Page 17 of A Cursed Noel

A brief gasp catches inher chest, but not much more. She responds with equal force, the wayher hands glide along my back, promising to never let me go.

My hands yank hercloser, dragging up her spine to bury my fingers in her mound of wetcurls. I can’t get enough of her. Ecstasy consumes us and oursurroundings fade away.

Celia’s lips featherover mine. “Aric,” she moans between breaths. “MyAric.”

Yours.Justas you’ll always be mine.

I don’t tell her asmuch in words. I show her. My passion for her, and my time withouther, spurring a lust that awakens like a caged beast.

The kisses we firstshared, back when we were fifteen and naive to the heartbreak thatcomes with first love, were sweet, overwhelming, and awesome in alltheir innocence.

This kiss is nothinglike the ones we exchanged all those years ago. Longing replacessweet, and need devours any semblance of innocence.

I groan, pulling hercloser, only to laugh when she responds with a purr.

Celia breaks our kiss,hurrying to stand. I kip up to my feet, reaching for her hand so shecan’t get too far.

She shakes her freehand as she giggles. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I don’t knowwhere that came from.”

My voice is unusuallygravelly. “I think I do,” I reply.

She stills, her gazesearching mine as she wrestles with how to respond.

A deep shade of redovertakes the soft pink coloring her cheeks. Her shyness is myundoing. “I miss that blush,” I tell her, my sincerity softeningmy voice. “I don’t know how I’ve survived without it.”

She lifts up on hertoes and strokes my cheek so gently, I almost don’t feel it. It’smore than I deserve after all the shit I’ve done. Would she runfrom me if she knew the torment I’ve inflicted since I last heldher?

“You forgot about me,didn’t you?” She eases back down to plant her feet, the weight ofher sadness trickling into her voice. “Just like I somehow forgetabout you.”

The manner she bites ather bottom lip destroys me. She’s trying not to cry but herglistening eyes demonstrate the depth of her misery.

“You’re not herefor me, are you?” She sighs when I don’t respond. “I take itthe world isn’t ready for us yet?”

“No. Not yet,” Iadmit.

My words only worsenher unease. I hate the pain that claims her—that claims me. No,this isn’t our time.

But I am here for her,and I’m not ready to let her go.

Every emotion thatclaws my heart can only be soothed by her touch. Using more patiencethan I possess, I draw her to me, lifting her chin to kiss her oncemore.

Our kiss deepens,turning my insides in all the best ways. Celia doesn’t purr thistime. A luscious whimper mixed with the tinniest of groans vibrateagainst my chest and heads south.

Something is verydifferent since the last time we were together. I feel it in everypart of the male I’ve become. I don’t have a lot of experience.What I do have comes solely from my brief time with Celia. What weshared was sacred and loving. What we share now is more akin to theadult mates we are.

The need to rid myselfof my clothesandhers overtakes me. I reach for the frontzipper of her jacket when the other male’s voice reminds where weare and that we’re not alone.

“Celia?” hepresses, his tone off.

Celia edges away fromme. I follow, quick on my feet and just as fast to snatch her waistand press her back against my chest. The thick clumps of snow fallingfrom the sky thin, morphing to an icier more dangerous blend. Itmelts against my dark hair as I nibble on her neck.

That male, the doctor,doesn’t move, sheer indignation cementing him in place. “Whathappened?” he demands, his confusion adding to his resentment.“There was thunder and what sounded like a bomb exploding.” Heregards me like I have no business anywhere near Celia. “Who areyou?”

He’s challenging mein his own pathetic way. I almost laugh. He’s as much of a threatto me as the snowflakes clinging to Celia’s beanie. Still, humorisn’t what lures my beast closer to the surface.

We don’t like the wayhe’s watching Celia. This isn’t a man trying to keep his youngcoworker from harm. No, this is something else.

“Um, this is Aric,Dr. Bantam,” she stammers. She glances up at me, trying to figureout what to say. “My, uh, boyfriend.”

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