Page 22 of Planes, Trains, and Candy Canes

“Right. Or longer.”

“Let’s see. We’ve had breakfast, lunch, and dinner together already.” Wet hands landed on his chest.

“And a kiss. A little one.” Derrick’s nearsighted eyes focused on the rest of the body being revealed. Sleep was forgotten. His body went on high alert, jumping when one hand slid down to his jeans.

“So, three dates in the books, and three dates planned,” she teased.

“More than that, okay?” One hand slid past her, rinsing the creamy mess from his fingers.

“Okay.” Her smile was blinding, ripping through layers of carefully controlled plans and ideas to brand his heart. “Want to know a secret?”

“Absolutely.”

“I told God—or Santa—or both, that I wanted you for Christmas. And I didn’t just mean sex with you. I meant... You. Like, you’re the kind of person I’ve always wished would come into my life, and here you are. I don’t want someone like you. I want you.”

Derrick switched hands, his clean hand now joining hers at his waistband and pushing his jeans to the ground. He used his feet to push off his socks, then finally slid into the warm wetness beside her, scooping her right against his chest for two reasons. One, so she couldn’t stare at his average-ish body, and two, so he could finally hug her and hold her like he’d been wanting to do for hours.

“Say something?” she whispered, kissing a line along his shoulder.

“You are nothing like I wanted for Christmas,” he confessed and felt her stiffen in his arms. “You are the surprise. And the surprise gifts are the best ones, Reese. I would never, ever, ever in a million years have imagined I could find someone as amazing as you.”

Tense limbs relaxed against him, and she pushed him back enough to retrieve her bag of burst toiletries. “Want our fourth date to be at the spa?” she asked with a playful wink.

“Spa? Here?” Derrick’s eyes widened as Reese removed a bottle of body wash from the bag and poured a generous amount in her palm.

“Mmhmm. Massages on the house.”

REESE HELD HER BREATH. Impulsive behavior had never led her to impulsive flings before.

This isn’t even a fling. This is for real. Derrick isn’t the flinging kind.

“Ohhhh,” a relieved moan tore out of her throat as his hands massaged her spine, soapsuds trailing down her cheeks and thighs.Be a big girl. Ask for what you want.

“Tell me what kind of a massage you’d like,” Derrick asked, his chest against her back.

She could feel his hardness against her cheeks, and her pussy jumped.

“I don’t want you to skip any places,” she gasped out as his hands began to knead her breasts.

His touch was firm, not demanding, touching and rolling her flesh until every inch of her torso felt like it was lit up and her nipples were so hard they hurt. Her fingers started to sneak between her thighs, only to find her arm captured.

“Let me try,” he whispered, and his hand took her place.

His fingers glided across her folds, exploring.

“You’re so soft. And so wet.”

“Mmm!” She could only manage a mewl when his thumb found her clit.

“I bet you taste as sweet as you feel.”

She bore down against his hand, her own hand sliding back and gripping his cock. “Oooh, I thought Santa was mad at me this year!”

Derrick rubbed more insistently against her, one hand between her legs, the other teasing her nipple, working together in a flawless, even rhythm.

She wasn’t surprised. She’d expect nothing less from him.

“But he wasn’t?” he led.

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