A Very Grumpy Lumberjack Christmas

11. Noel

11

NOEL

R ough calluses skate over my skin, sending shivers down my spine. The familiarity of those gritty patches makes me lean into Luke’s touch when, really, I should be pulling away.

Just like I never should have come into this room.

I should have left him alone.

Because he can certainly take care of himself.

His rock-hard, work-honed body proves that—at least physically.

But the way he talks proves he’s as vulnerable and feels just as deeply as I do.

And it’s too late to regret letting him touch me now, too late to go back when I’m standing in front of him and he has this yearning in his eyes, the same one that always unraveled me, that I don’t stand a fucking chance against.

His intention is abundantly clear—as are the reasons we shouldn’t.

“I…but…what about—”

Luke slides his thumb across my lips, silencing me, and instinctively, I open and let it slip between them, biting down in a way that makes his hard cock jump against me.

“Whatever you were about to say. Don’t.”

He’s asking me—no begging me—to forget all the reasons this is a terrible idea, all the reasons we should never have gotten back into each other’s orbits, let alone allowed ourselves to be drawn in this close.

I so badly want to go along with it.

To fall back into his arms.

His care.

To experience his touch and his kiss again.

To have all those things I lost and never regained in the eight years we have been apart.

To take what he always so freely gave me.

He pulls his thumb from between my lips and glides his other hand down to my hip, squeezing there gently. “All you have to do is say the word, Snowflake.”

Damn him.

Another shiver arrives with the old nickname, which seems so fucking ironic now, considering how we got into this situation. The storm that has us trapped together—confronting the past and our feelings for each other—continues to rage the same way the war inside me does.

He dips his head, feathering his lips across mine.

A question.

Not demanding anything I wouldn’t freely give him.

And all it takes is that soft touch, that whisper of a promise for me to unravel completely.

Any willpower I may have had to resist him, any anger I may have harbored for how things went down, any lingering doubts…all of it evaporates the moment I push up onto my tiptoes and press my lips to his fully.

He groans into my mouth, using his strong arm to tug me up against him completely. His cock twitches between us, and heat flares at the apex of my thighs, the ache confirming my body is clearly one hundred percent on board with what my mind has decided is somehow a good fucking idea.

Even when we both know it isn’t.

This won’t change anything.

About where we are in our lives.

About where we stand with each other.

It’s simply giving in to old feelings that we maybe never resolved.

I should be more worried about it, but I can’t be as one of his hand tunnels through my hair to support my upper back and he uses the other to reach down and lift me easily into his strong arms.

My crotch settles against his, and I wrap my legs around his waist, groaning when his hard length presses in exactly the right place to make me throb.

The pressure there only builds as he stalks from the bathroom out into the main room of the cabin, but instead of heading for the bed against the far wall, like I would have anticipated, he beelines for the fireplace.

What he knows has always been my favorite spot.

Both just to sit and read.

To soak up the warmth.

And also, to make love.

Something about the bearskin rug spread out in front of it and the heat emanating from the crackling fire has always fueled my passion.

Luke apparently plans to take advantage of that—and I have no plans to stop him.

It only takes a few steps to get us there, and he easily sinks to his knees, then uses his hand at my back and behind my head to lower me down gently while his mouth takes mine torturously.

Long, languid strokes of his tongue drag a little frustrated mewl from deep in my chest, and I grind up against him, seeking more friction, more of him .

He grins against my lips, then pulls back, his eyes filled with lust and the tiniest hint of trepidation.

I know why it’s there, after what he just said to me. The true pain I felt emanating from every single word is still very real for this lumberjack. Now I understand that Luke was destroyed by me leaving, by the end of our relationship, maybe even more so than I was, and that agony never left him.

It was something I always carried deep inside my chest—a scar that wouldn’t heal. But for him, it was so much more—a gaping wound that festered and became infected with the bitterness I’ve seen from him since I arrived back in Mistletoe.

And all of it was my fault.

The real pain still etched on his face as he stares down at me makes my breath catch.

Luke really was suffering, and I never made any attempts to ease his pain, to bridge that chasm I created by leaving him and this town.

All this time, I let myself believe he wanted it to end, that he sabotaged us by refusing to even consider moving with me. But that decision killed him just as much as it did me.

I reach up and thread my fingers through his thick, dark hair. “Can you ever forgive me?”

If he had been the one who left, if I had remained in Mistletoe as miserable and hurt as he did, I’m not sure I could easily forget. Clearly, he hasn’t. But I need his forgiveness as much as I need him to understand that I never meant to hurt him.

Luke slips his leg between mine, wedging it up until his hot skin presses against my core—the thin material of my leggings allowing that warmth to seep through easily. He dips his head, grazing his teeth along the shell of my ear.

A full-body shiver makes me arch into him, my clit brushing against his thick, heavily muscled thigh as his cock presses into my belly.

His breath flutters the hair at my nape. “That depends on how well you beg…”

“Beg?” The word comes out breathy, almost a moan, but my brain struggles to process what he’s asking for. “Beg for forgiveness?”

His tongue snakes along my neck, raising goosebumps in its wake as he grasps my hip tightly in one hand and fists the other in my hair. “No, Snowflake, for my cock. I want Mrs. Parsons to hear you at the base of the mountain.”

“B-but that old bat couldn’t hear a freight train barreling down on her…”

Luke nips at my ear, sliding his hand from my hip to my waistband, then down the front of my pants to cup my already embarrassingly wet pussy that he can undoubtedly feel through the thin barrier my thong offers. “Then you better be… Really. ” Nip. “ Fucking. ” Another. “ Loud .”

He bites down hard enough to make me jerk under him.

Oh, God…

This is the Luke I’ve missed.

The confident, rightfully arrogant, masterful lover who always gets what he wants but ensures I get mine first.

He always demanded so much from me, yet he never left me wanting. Ensuring my own pleasure over his.

But only if I complied.

He pulls back long enough to tug the waistband of my leggings and my thong down my legs and toss them to the side, leaving me in my sweater in the firelight. “You still have far too many clothes on—though, I really do want to fuck you in this thing.” He flicks Santa’s bulbous red nose with one finger playfully, then grins. “Maybe next round.”

Fuck.

Luke is already planning rounds.

That means I am in big, big trouble this Christmas.

He grasps the hem of my sweater and tugs it up and off, letting it crumple next to us on the floor. His blazing green eyes rake over me in the dancing light from the fireplace, the heat in them matching that emanating from the stone hearth.

How did I ever think they looked cold?

His warm, hard body pressed to mine proves he’s not the man who gave me that icy reception back to town. He’s gone, replaced by the scalding inferno of shared need.

Bracing himself over me with one hand, he drifts a rough palm up my inner thigh. Goosebumps break out across my skin, and I tremble as he inches closer to the spot I want him so badly.

He reaches my slick core and slips two thick fingers inside me easily, curling them up in a come-hither motion and slowly gliding his calloused fingertips along the perfect spot only he’s ever been able to find.

“Luke…” I moan and shift, lifting my hips to give him better access even as I need to voice my protest. It’s been so long. I can’t disappoint him. I won’t. “I don’t know if I can—”

He feathers his lips across mine, sliding his thumb across my clit and making me buck on his hand. “You can , Noel. You used to come so beautifully like this all the time for me.”

Only, this man isn’t trying to make me come.

Luke is trying to make me squirt …

“I haven’t since—” I bite back the admission, tightening my thighs around to try to stay his sensual assault.

His eyes meet mine, dark brows furrowing. “Since when, Snowflake? ”

A single tear trickles from my cheek—all the pent-up need and anguish about to boil over. “Don’t make me say it.”

He kisses it away. “I need to hear it, Noel. Just like I need every whimper, every moan, every gasp, every scream. I need them all.”

“I haven’t come like that since the last time we were together.”

A slow grin spreads across his face. “Then loud shouldn’t be a problem.”

Fuck.

I am in so much trouble with this man.

The moment I let him touch me, I knew I was done for.

And I’m right.

He has always played me so well, using his hands and wielding his cock as expertly as he does his axe. Driving to exactly the right spot. Sinking deep. Striking over and over again until I split in two.

Which is clearly his goal now.

The glint in his eye is one I recognize means trouble for me if I want to maintain any semblance of control.

But who am I kidding?

I gave over control to him the moment I fell in love with him, and I never got it back. Evidenced by the way my body so easily responds to his ministrations. How quickly it remembers that calloused touch and what it can do.

How it yearns for it.

Aches for it.

Demands it.

My hips roll up against his hand, seeking more as he glides his thumb around and across my clit. Coiling me tighter. Drawing me higher. His fingertips deep inside me working that magical spot.

He watches my face, his brow furrowing. “I’m not hearing you, Snowflake. Stop biting that lip and let it go.”

Hell.

I hadn’t even realized I was doing it.

But sure enough, my bottom lip aches where its pinned under my teeth, and I release it at his command.

Almost instantly, a needy, undignified groan slips out, and he captures it in his mouth in a soul-searing kiss that steals my remaining breath.

When he pulls away, that grin returns. “That’s better.” He dips his head low to flutter a barely there kiss across my lips. “And I know what will really get you to open back up to me.”

Open what?

My mouth.

My legs.

My heart?

His intent is clear on the first two, but it’s that final one that makes me tense under him.

I don’t know that I’d survive giving that to Luke Crisp again.

But I don’t have time to consider it any further before he slides back and pushes my knees wide with his strong, broad shoulders. He drags the flat of his tongue across my clit in one long, slow motion that almost snaps me in half.

I arch into it, seeking more, needing it all in one greedy instant. “Oh, fuck!” I gasp, struggling to suck in any air. “Oh, God! I need…”

The words fail me, replaced by a strangled groan.

Yet I know he will give it to me.

That was one thing Luke never failed in—providing mind-bending pleasure that bordered on pain. The kind of hot, sweaty sex that left me boneless and floating in a haze I never wanted to come out of.

We were practically kids then—only twenty-two when we parted ways. I can’t imagine what new tricks he must have learned since then that he plans to torture me with .

He swirls his tongue in tiny, tight circles over that nub, his fingers gliding back and forth inside me, applying hard pressure perfectly to ensure he will get what he wants—me screaming as I come down his throat.

It’s already starting.

That low heat that slowly spreads out until it ignites into an inferno that can’t be contained—a rush that the man crushed between my thighs can never get enough of.

The wind buffets the cabin, rattling the windows and whistling down the chimney, but all I can hear is the sound of my own unsteady breaths, Luke’s approving moans, and the needy mewls that keep slipping from my lips.

Luke laps at me around his fingers, moving them faster, dragging harder, flicking his tongue against my clit rapid-fire until my head is thrashing back and forth against the bearskin rug beneath us.

I bury my hands in his hair, tugging on the strands as I cry out an anguished plea. “Please. Fuck! Just…fucking hell, Luke…”

He chuckles against my flesh, clearly enjoying the way he has me dangling over that dangerously high precipice. “Come for me, Snowflake.” Another flick over my most sensitive spot. “I’m dying to taste you again.” A languid glide across it. “To drink you down.” His searing gaze meets mine, holding me captive as much as his strong body is. “I’m a fucking parched man who needs the life-giving waters your cunt provides.”

Sweet, bloody Christ.

There it is.

That spark.

That rush of heat.

The snap of the tension before it explodes.

My head drops back, my mouth falling open on a scream as I finally come, unleashing everything that’ s been pent up for the last eight years on the man who demanded I do just that.

Luke groans his approval, drinking me down, lapping up every fucking drop of my orgasm as he continues to work his fingers inside me and across my hypersensitive clit to drag out my release longer than I thought possible.

Before I even start coming down from it, he shifts over me and pulls away his hand, replacing it with the head of his cock.

He pushes inside me in a single, hard thrust.