Holding Out For A Holiday Hero

Chapter 3

Chapter Three

“Who needs mistletoe? I’m kissing her. Right here. Right now.” – Jake Hale

Jake was kissing her. She was kissing him. And it was the most incredible kiss of her life. Off the charts hot. Body scorching. Lust ignited within True. He’d freed her wrist, and both of her hands flew up to tightly grab his powerful shoulders as she tried to pull him closer to her.

A kiss wasn’t supposed to feel like this, was it? Because if it was…oh, if it was, then she’d been doing it all wrong for years. Because a kiss had never, ever been this explosive. This body-melting. This—this panty-wetting.

She was turned on. Hot and wet for him.

From a kiss.

True jerked her head back. She stared at his shadowy form in shock even as her panting breaths filled the air.

“Was it good for you, too?” he growled.

“That was the best kiss of my life,” she told him honestly, breathless. “Can we do it again?”

He growled once more. Or cursed. Maybe both? Then his mouth was taking hers again with a feverish intensity. As if he wanted to gobble her right up. He stroked and teased with his tongue, and she moaned helplessly even as her body rubbed eagerly against his.

His hands curled around her waist. He lifted her up—like she weighed nothing and that was even hotter because he was so strong—and she gasped against his mouth. He stole her breath. Gave her his.

So sexy.

“Wrap your legs around my waist,” he ordered.

Oh, yes, sure. She could do that. She did do that. And then he started carrying her back through the condo. Back toward—the bedroom? Yes, they were heading toward the bedroom. Things had accelerated from zero to explosion super, super fast. This was way beyond the norm for her.

Was it the norm for him? Was this like a typical Friday night? You kiss a woman, and she goes crazy for you?

Uncertainty blossomed in her even as he lowered her onto the bed. A king-size bed that did, indeed, have black sheets. She’d left the bedside lamp glowing when she finally got the nerve to exit the room and tiptoe into the den for her big confession. Now, she could see Jake and seeing him was…

He looks like a predator. Like he really does want to eat me alive.

He stood beside the bed. His hands were at his sides. His eyes on her. Or, rather, on her legs. The oversized t-shirt she’d taken from his drawer had risen up, and it skimmed the tops of her thighs. His focus was one hundred percent clear.

Did we just go from a kiss to sex? “We haven’t even gone out on a date,” she blurted.

His gaze rose to her face. Lust burned in his stare. “You want me to date you?”

That was the normal order of things, wasn’t it? At least in her world. Her world of limited experience. Was this the part where she should confess to having limited partners? As in, two total? One in college, and then after—the guy she’d gone on to foolishly marry?

“Date you before I fuck you?” A harsh growl from Jake.

She jerked upright into a sitting position and immediately yanked the hem of the shirt down. “It was a kiss!”

He watched her with those blazing, dark eyes of his.

“I don’t…even if it was the best kiss ever, I’m not ready for—” True stopped. She tried to regain control of herself and the situation. “I don’t know what’s happening.”

“I didn’t bring you in here to fuck you.”

He…hadn’t?

“I brought you in here so I wouldn’t fuck you.”

Um, he’d brought her to the bedroom, put her on the bed…so they wouldn’t have sex? She was completely confused. And…True notched up her chin. “I don’t remember asking you to fuck me.”

He took a step away from the bed. “My control with you is razor thin. You tasted like my fantasies, and now I just want to taste all of you. Every single inch.” His gaze had dropped. Once more. Focused on the juncture of her thighs. “Over and over again. Until you come against my mouth.”

Oh. Wow. “Uh, Jake?”

“You’re not ready for that. You’re not ready for me.”

She could agree with one hundred percent certainty that she was not, in fact, ready for him. But she still wanted him. Very badly. Their kiss—kisses—had unlocked something within her. Something that maybe she’d been chaining up for far too long. Playing by the rules her whole life had gotten her heartache. What would it be like to forget those rules? Just once?

“You’re scared. You’re running on adrenaline. And I will not be the bastard who takes advantage of you. That’s not who I am.” Another step back. “I am going to leave you, safe and sound, in my bed. You get some rest tonight. Something tells me that you have not experienced a good night’s sleep in a while. Tomorrow, you’ll wake up with a clear head. And if you still want me tomorrow, then I will fucking date you. I’ll play by your rules.” His eyes glittered. “Then I will have you.”

Her heart still raced far too fast.

He turned and headed for the door.

“Jake?”

He stilled.

“I’m going to want you tomorrow. I’ve wanted you since I was sixteen, and that want hasn’t changed. So I don’t particularly think I’ll wake up in the morning and the need will suddenly be gone.”

Jake glanced over his shoulder at her.

She licked her lips. “So I guess I’ll be having you soon.”

His jaw clenched. “Ice skating,” he bit out.

“Excuse me?” Was that some sort of euphemism that she was not getting?

“We’ll go ice skating for our first date.”

Not any euphemism. He meant actual ice skating. And an actual date. A gentle glow seemed to build inside of her. “Sounds like a plan.”

His head jerked. Then he faced forward. He crossed over the threshold?—

“Good night, Jake.”

His body paused. “Good night, sweets.”

Jake hauled the door shut. Then he looked down at his hand. His fingers were shaking. Need flooded through every cell of his body. He could never, ever remember wanting someone this much.

She’s not just someone.

True Blakely.

And he’d kissed her, and she’d told him it was the best kiss of her life.

“Cold shower,” Jake muttered. “ Cold. Shower.”

Yep, just as he’d thought before…it was going to be one long-ass night.

If Rosewood had a fancy part of town, then, of course, True would live in it. The two-story house waited on a small cul-de-sac. Gated yards. Perfect lawns. Houses that gleamed and shined in the morning light.

Houses that were far, far away from the home he’d grown up in.

They’d been worlds apart as teens.

Now their worlds were colliding.

True doesn’t know it, but I’m not some piss-poor punk any longer. He’d more than made his own fortune over the years. He could afford to buy the biggest house in town, if he wanted. He could have a luxury car. Five of them. Go on trips to the best places in the world.

But he didn’t do that shit. Because he was fine just as he was.

Alone?

The last thought slithered through his mind. Might have made him shift uncomfortably.

“I’ll just…change clothes real fast.” True was back in her red dress as she bent over the front door’s lock. “Give me a few moments to freshen up, and we can hit the museum. I’ll show you exactly where I was when the crash occurred.”

He trailed behind her as she opened the door and slipped inside. Anticipation filled him because he was quite curious about what the inside of True’s house would look like and?—

And it looked as if Christmas had exploded.

He nodded. Yep. That fit.

She’d wrapped green garland—with red bows—around the banisters that led up to the second floor. Two small, fully decorated trees were strategically placed on either side of the staircase. He could have sworn that he even smelled cinnamon hanging in the air. Of course, the woman’s house would smell delicious. How could it not?

“I’ll run upstairs. Please, make yourself at home.”

He strolled toward what he took to be her den. His eyes went first to the massive Christmas tree near her fireplace. Eight feet tall? Ten? And how had she gotten the bows to flow down the tree that way? His gaze followed the ribbon and bows as they twisted and flowed down to the bottom of?—

Shock rolled through him. “True?”

He could hear her steps on the stairs.

“True!” Louder. “I need you.”

And those steps immediately rushed back down the staircase. Her boots padded over the hardwood of the small foyer and then into the den as she breathlessly asked, “What is it?”

“Oh, you know, the usual. A giant Christmas tree. A stocking hung with care.” He took a step back so she could take in the full sights in the den. “And a dead body tucked in with the holiday presents.” When he made that last, bald statement, Jake was watching her face.

Absolute horror flashed across her expression even as she opened her mouth and screamed.

Jake nodded. “Right, guessing he is not supposed to be there.”

“What?” Another shriek. “Of course, he is not supposed to be there!”

“Then we have a problem.” When she lunged toward what was clearly a dead body, complete with a bullet hole in his chest—did the woman think she was gonna help the guy, now?—Jake wrapped his arms around her stomach and hauled her back. “Let’s not touch the body, sweets. Better to not contaminate the scene.”

“There is a dead body under my Christmas tree!” True shrieked.

Jake lifted her up and carried her back toward the front door.

“Jake, there is a dead body under my Christmas tree!” Slightly hysterical.

“Yep, I did notice it.” Hard to miss it, in fact. “Pro tip, sweets, I’d probably throw out all of the presents that have blood on them.”

She shuddered in his arms.