Never Sleigh Never (Man of the Month Club: Christmas Novella)

8. Thomas

Thomas

T he second I graze her soft pink lips, the dozens of reasons not to kiss Cara Livingston that have rolled through my mind, again and again, for the past twenty-four hours wash away like a sandcastle on the beach when the tide comes in. The touch is at once like nothing I’ve ever experienced before but also a sensation I’ve been waiting my whole life for without even knowing it.

And the erection I’ve sported all day, despite thinking Cara wasn’t interested, hardens like granite. Because there’s a chance that assessment was wrong, even though she took off like a shot. Not that my dick cares either way. The second Cara hesitated at the door before asking if I could help her start a fire, I knew I was done for.

Even if it’s, as she said, “just for tonight.”

I tug her soft curves against me, hungry for more. As I drove over here tonight, I knew dropping by was likely the worst idea I’ve had in a decade. If there was something she really needed, Cara would have texted. But the second Brad mentioned the blonde across the street had stopped by, looking for me, I knew I’d be heading to her place, rather than going to my own dark, empty house, after I locked up at the store.

Because I’m a glutton for punishment, putting myself directly in the path of temptation and a guaranteed broken heart. I wouldn’t be here now, pulling her into my arms in front of a blazing fire if I didn’t have real feelings for her. That’s just not the kind of guy I am. And even if she doesn’t feel even a fraction of what I do, the sparks are undeniable. I can’t resist her anymore.

My fingers weave into her hair as her nails dig into my shoulders. Her lips are demanding, needy. Her teeth nibble my lower lip while my hands slide down her back to cup her ass and haul her onto my lap where she fits perfectly wedged against me. Her legs wrap around my waist and she settles in and wiggles like a loose screw in an old rocking chair as she seeks friction. And I’m happy to deliver.

My cock presses uncomfortably against the confines of my jeans, but I buck my hips, thrusting my tongue into her mouth when she gasps at the contact. She matches me stroke for stroke, griding against my length while I savor her taste. Our breath mingles as her fingers trail up my neck and tangle in my hair, tugging hard.

“Thomas,” she whispers against my lips, her voice husky, “I want…” She trails off, not finishing the thought, but it doesn’t matter. Her heaving chest, lowered lids, and peaked nipples, as hard as pebbles pressed against my chest, tell me everything I need to know.

“Lie down,” I command, shifting forward to lay her gently to the carpet, so I can replace the fire grate. Her legs may be wide open and straddling me, and I may have a one-track mind at the moment—learning every inch of this woman to discover exactly what makes her come undone—but safety first. Then I can get down to business.

She lifts onto her elbows, watching me move the grate into place. A saucy smile spreads across her face, and the second we’re protected from flying embers, I eye her suspiciously. “What?

She gives the slightest shrug of her shoulder. “You sure know how to start a fire.”

“That so?” I ask, arching an eyebrow.

“Mm-hmm.”

She’s not talking about the fire in the hearth. And neither am I. “And here I was thinking you were the one who set things smoldering.”

“Me?” she says, feigning innocence.

“You,” I confirm, relishing the way her gaze drops and her lips part as I unbutton my flannel and slip it off. I toss it aside before tugging off my white T-shirt in one smooth move.

“I…I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she insists, licking her lips and driving me wild.

“No?”

Planting a palm on either side of her head, I shift until my bare chest is hovering only inches above her and my cock is pressed against her core through entirely too many layers of clothing.

“No,” she insists, even though she’s squirming and her back is arching.

And I can’t help it. Because I’ve learned ruffling Cara Livingston’s feathers is more fun than cracking open a cold beer after a long day. I bend and tug her earlobe in between my lips, humming a murmur of approval before I lick my way down to her collarbone.

“Then maybe I should stop,” I threaten against her warm skin.

“No!” she cries, digging her nails into my flesh as I press up. Until she realizes I’m only shifting so I can unbutton her pajama top and spread it open.

I circle a nipple with a single finger, mesmerized by the sight of those generous globes laid bare before me.

“So, I should keep going?” I ask. As if I don’t know the answer.

The tip puckers, and her thighs clench around my hips as she nods vigorously. “Yes! Please.”

A warm sensation spreads throughout my chest as I brush my thumb against one nipple. I reward her moan of pleasure by sucking the other bud deep into my mouth.

Her eyes squeeze shut, and her breath hitches as she pins me in place against her.

“If you trap me here,” I murmur, nibbling gently, “I can’t work my way to where I want to be.”

As if I said the magic words, her thighs release instantly. With a chuckle, I kiss my way down to her bellybutton then slip a hand under each hip and tug down the reindeer-covered pajamas and the sexiest pair of black lace panties I’ve ever seen.

The sight of her wet, pink, swollen core makes my cock twitch. I can’t wait to bury my face, and more, in it. But I can’t concentrate when my jeans are cutting off my circulation, making a painful situation even more so. I kick off my work boots and tug off my jeans. Cara’s gaze drops to my cock before I sink back down to settle my head between her legs.

“Keep these legs spread,” I warn, my voice rough. “Wide open for me.”

“And if I don’t?” She licks her lips and bites back a smile as if I’m joking.

I’m not.

“I’ll stop,” I warn, a thousand percent sure there’s no way I could follow through on the threat once I draw a deep breath and discover the only scent in the world more appealing than fresh-cut lumber.

“You wouldn’t,” she gasps but presses a palm flat on each thigh as if to remind herself.

“Only one way to find out,” I murmur as I kiss one smooth inner thigh and then the other before dipping my chin and burying myself in her slick folds.

And damn, if she doesn’t taste as good as she smells. One long lick and I’m digging deep for control while I explore every inch of her, working my way up to the swollen bud, her cries getting louder by the second. Her hands fly to my head, nails scraping my scalp as I tongue her, and, within seconds, have her thighs trembling.

No way she can come yet. I’m just getting started. I ease the pressure, swiping with featherlight touches rather than going down as if her clit is a patch of uneven drywall and my tongue is the sandpaper.

“Thomas,” she moans, her voice strangled. “Please.”

I’m sweating, and I have never been as hard as I am right now. Sheer willpower is the only thing from keeping me from shifting and plunging deep into her. That and the fact I’m determined to make her come first because there’s no way in hell I’m lasting more than ten seconds once I’m buried deep.

Make that five. Because, still lapping at her clit, I push two fingers inside her entrance, thinking it will help satisfy her. Which it does. But her hot, tight channel clenches around my knuckles as she explodes, and the sensation is my undoing. That and the way her thighs are like a vise grip around my head, holding me against her, the tremors that roll through her body one after another milking what I’m giving her.

And it’s the most turned on I’ve ever been in my entire life. Until the pressure eases and she lifts her head, and I glance up to find her slack expression and those gorgeous emerald pupils dilated as she gazes down at me, and says, “You didn’t stop.”

Those three little words hit me like a ton of bricks. And I realize she’s right. It’s true. I didn’t stop. Because there was no way I could have. No way I’ll ever be able to when it comes to giving this woman anything and everything she wants. Forever.

I’m gone for her, but I can’t tell her that now. Maybe not ever. Because she’s just making the most of tonight . Which I’ll take if that’s all I’ll ever get. My heart pounds in my throat, and I can’t breathe. My chest is too tight, but rather than let on that anything’s wrong I pull a condom from the back pocket of my jeans and hold it up.

“Honey I’m just getting started.”