The Christmas Cookie Crush (Arcadian Falls Christmas #4)

Chapter 37

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Nora

Austin kisses me deeply, one arm cinching around my waist and holding me tightly against him, the other arm still cradling my head. When he holds me like this I feel … safe. Warm.

Loved.

It’s too early for that. I know it’s too early. I won’t say the words. Not out loud.

But I can show him how deep my feelings for him run. Because I know that’s a big part of what’s behind the depth of his hurt. He felt like he was the only one who wanted a future together. Like I gave up at the first sign of difficulty.

He wasn’t wrong. Not exactly. I wasn’t ready to give up, but I certainly wasn’t all in either. Not like he was.

But now that I know I’ll be coming back to Arcadian Falls, that coming back here is something I want, not something I don’t have a choice about, and not something I’m doing to make someone else happy, I’m open to the possibilities.

It’s way too early to know if we’ll be able to last through the long-distance period that we have to get through. Or once that’s over, how we’ll deal with being able to see each other daily again.

Some part of me worries that what I said to Dylan is right. Maybe a long-distance relationship is the only kind I can handle.

But if my time with Austin is anything to go by, I don’t think that’s true. Seeing him every day was the highlight, not a burden, even while we only had snatches of time that we had to carve out of busy schedules. He was ready and willing to keep that up. To keep figuring out how to make time for one another despite whatever constraints were in the way.

I owe him the same thing.

And I need to show him that I’m all in.

“Where’s your bedroom?” I ask.

His eyes widen in surprise, and he looks around like he expects his grandparents to jump out of the closet or something. But we’re alone. They left to give us space. I’m not sure what he told them or how much they know, but they clearly knew we had something to work through.

Lips curling in a wicked grin, he steps back, reaching down to adjust himself. I smile at the sight. It’s silly, and would probably be embarrassing in other circumstances, but I like knowing that I can make him hard so easily. That he finds me that attractive.

It’s hot.

Lacing his fingers through mine, he leads me down the hall to his room. Once inside, he closes the door behind us, leaning back against it for a second, his eyes roaming up and down my body.

Trying to play it casual, I take off my coat, draping it over the ladderback chair at the old-fashioned secretary desk in the corner. That’s when I take the time to look around at all the photos on the wall, the old-fashioned daybed with its yellow, pink, and purple floral print comforter and matching pillow shams, and the lamp that looks like something in my own grandparents’ house.

There’s very little of Austin in this room. It’s neat and tidy with only a few items lying out—a sketch pad and pencil on the desk next to his laptop, a charging cable lying across the nightstand, and a blue flannel shirt draped over the foot of the bed—that indicate he’s the occupant of this time capsule of a guest room.

When I meet his eyes again, he grins. “I never thought I’d have you here in this room.”

Laughing, I run my hand over the shiny gold-plated bed frame. “I can see why.”

He shrugs, pushing off from the door and reaching for me. “It’s a room. It’s free. I can’t complain.”

I loop my arms over his shoulders, and his hands rest on my hips, his fingers finding their way under my sweater, though the cami I’m wearing keeps him from getting to my skin.

He makes a disgruntled face that has me laughing. “What’s that look?”

“You’re always wearing so many layers. I just want to touch your skin.”

“That’s ‘cause it’s winter. It’s cold out. I don’t like being cold.”

He bunches up the cami, tugging the fabric up and out of the way, and sighs with relief when his palms rest against my bare sides. “There. That’s better.”

“You could just take it off, you know,” I whisper, kissing the corner of his mouth.

He rumbles agreement. “That’s true.”

And then my sweater is up, covering my face, and I’m laughing with surprise and joy, grateful that we’re so quickly returning to our equilibrium. When I’m free of the sweater, he’s smiling at me, his eyes warm with affection and a deeper emotion we’re not naming yet.

Too soon , I remind myself. Too soon .

But it’s that look he’s given me so many times before. A look I didn’t realize how much I’d missed until this very moment.

And I have a lifetime of those looks to look forward to.

I strip off the cami, remembering the last time I wore one of these with the shelf bra and how much trouble he had getting it off me, leaving me in just my yoga pants and the naughty reindeer socks Sarah gave me for Christmas.

His smile fades as his hands skim up my sides, cupping my breasts. He bends, capturing a nipple in his mouth, and I gasp at the sensation, arching my back to give him better access.

When he finishes lavishing my nipples with attention, I’m wet and panting and needy, clinging to him, desperate to get our clothes off.

I grunt my displeasure at the fact he’s still wearing a shirt, and he grins, yanking it off one-handed.

“God, that’s sexy.” I reach for his chest, running a hand over his pec, up to his shoulder, and back down again.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Uh-huh.”

“What else?”

Reaching for his waist, I pop the button on his jeans and slowly pull the zipper down. His breath hitches.

“That,” I whisper. “That’s sexy too.” Then I reach inside his open jeans, palming him over his underwear. “And this.”

He pulls me roughly against him, his kiss and his body filling my senses, his need every bit as urgent as mine.

With one hand, he shoves at his pants and underwear, and I help him push them over his hips. Then he turns us, backing me against the bed, urging me down onto it, then grabbing the waistband of my pants and pulling them and my underwear off together.

He goes to the dresser and retrieves a condom from the top drawer. When he’s right in front of me, I reach for him, planning on taking him into my mouth. I want to make him feel good. So, so good. And I know he likes this.

But he evades my hand, shaking his head. “God, Nora. I’ll blow if you touch me like that. I don’t want this to end that fast. And I want to be inside you.”

“Okay. Come here, then.” I shift onto my back as he rolls on the condom.

He climbs onto the bed with me, and I scoot over as far as I can, leaving him just enough room on the edge of the bed. Propping himself up on one arm, he trails the fingers of his other hand up and down my body, fondling my breasts, then up to my face, where he tips my chin up so he can claim my mouth again. His hand slides down, his fingers tracing the seam where my thigh joins my torso on each side, then he cups me, pets between my legs, gently, insistently.

I part my thighs, giving him room to work, wanting him to touch me more.

Taking the silent urging of my body language, he does what I want, parting me and tracing gentle circles around my clit.

“I want to make sure you’re ready,” he whispers, his mouth next to my ear. He takes my earlobe gently between his teeth, and I shiver with arousal.

Then he slides a finger inside me, finding that spot that feels so good and rubbing it, softly at first, and then more firmly when I plead, “Yes, more.”

It’s not enough, though. I need him. Not just his hands.

“I want you,” I tell him. “I need you inside me. Please.”

Without any further urging, he settles himself between my spread thighs, holding himself up on his hands. He doesn’t reach between us to line himself up. Instead, he rubs the head of his cock up and down my pussy a few times, each time sliding over my clit in a way that feels oh, so good, and then he moves back far enough that when he pushes forward again, he sinks inside.

I arch into him, moaning with pleasure. “You feel amazing.” I reach for him, wanting him close, needing to feel him fully against me.

Dropping to his elbows, he gathers me against him, kissing me deeply as he moves slowly inside me. I cling to him, arms and legs wrapped around him, getting and giving exactly what I need.

He uses one hand to palm my ass, adjusting our angle just enough that he hits me in the perfect spot.

“Yes, there, oh god, don’t stop,” I pant, and he drives into me harder, giving me exactly what I need.

Between the undressing and the kissing and just him , I’m already so turned on, and he’s grinding against my clit with each thrust. He picks up the pace, and I’m vaguely aware that he’s as close as I am. “Don’t stop,” I pant again. “Don’t stop.”

He doesn’t, keeping the same pace, driving into me again and again, and my breath comes in shallow pants, the feeling building inside me until it explodes outward, my body trembling with pleasure.

“Fuck,” he growls, his hips losing their rhythm, and then he follows me over the edge into bliss.