Page 172 of A Merry Mountain Christmas

He is the one who made me realize that the world doesn’t always have to shatter in a bad way, that it can shatter in ways that send light radiating through your being and pleasure quaking through your body, down to your very molecules, in a way that makes you feel like you are at once flying and falling.

Losing control is more pleasurable than I’d ever thought it would be.

That tattoo I wanted to trace before, when I was fantasizing about him, it’s a rope attached to an anchor, the rope twining down his arm to his abdomen. No doubt something prompted him to get it, and I long to know what. There are others too—a large dragon and a compass star. And a small purple butterfly. Is that one for his nephew, Ben? Or—the thought shudders through me—a woman?

I know what he feels like inside me, the fullness of having a man that large within me, his big hands coaxing wave after wave of pleasure from me. It’s like someone’s been playing me as a guitar for years, only Jace discovered I’m really a violin. And yet, there’s so much I don’t know about him.

So much I want to know.

My gaze lands on a container of Dinorific bath bubbles sitting on the corner of the tub, and I suddenly feel dizzy.

What the heck am I doing?

I can’t start a relationship with Jace, no matter how good he makes me feel. For one thing, he’s probably not interested. I basically threw myself at him, and while I’m pretty sure he had a good time, I have to assume that 99% of single women would willingly give him their panties. Who wouldn’t want a man like that? For another, Aidan is attached to him, and it would absolutely crush him if Jace stayed away because of me.Look what happened the other day. I can’t do that to my son. I just can’t. Not after his father abandoned him. And the practical side of me, which insists on having her say, points out that I’m not technically divorced yet. I can’t be until January. There’s propriety to think of, right?

But the thought of telling Jace that we can’t do that again, when I already know it’s all I’m going to think about in whatever snatches of free time I have…

That’s when I remember Nicole’s idea.

Fuck buddy.

I’m fairly certain I can’t bring myself to say that, but maybe we could be a special kind of friends. Two consenting adults who enjoy—

Mind-blowing sex?

I think again of the way Jace touched me as he thrust into me, doing everything in his power to make sure that I cameagain, and a strange sound bursts from me.

“Mary?” he calls. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes! I’ll be right there,” I say, my cheeks going pink before my eyes.

Taking a deep breath, I leave the bathroom. I’m not sure what I expected, but he’s still in bed, the sheet only partially covering him. The sight of him makes that breath I sucked in come whooshing out, because he’s such a man, his hair mussed, his body hard and sculpted, his big manhood semihard. Such a man. There’s just no other way of saying it. And he’s inmybed.

I’m halfway there before I remember that I’m naked too. I start to lift my hands to cover my chest when he gives a slight shake of his head.

“You have nothing to be ashamed of,” he says. “You’re beautiful.”

“So are you,” I say honestly, before I can think better of it.

Feeling tentative, I lower onto the bed next to him. As if he can sense my hesitation, he doesn’t touch me. He just stays close, looking at me with those warm blue eyes like the sea in summer. Making me feel a strange longing for him, even though he’s right next to me.

“I’m not so sure I don’t have anything to be ashamed of.” I play with the edge of the beige duvet cover. Which I may very well burn after the green one arrives tomorrow.

I’ll bet Nicole would dance around the fire with me.

“Why’s that?” he asks, bringing me back into the moment.

“You know. Because I’d never…” Even now, even after what we’ve done, it’s hard to get the words out.

He reaches over and lifts my chin. I look into his eyes and am surprised by the intensity of his expression, although I’m not sure why.

“If anyone should be ashamed, it’s Glenn.”

He actually seems angry, and seeing his anger on my behalf, I can’t help it, I reach up and kiss him, savoring the firm press of his lips, the brush of his whiskers against my cheeks, and the slight nip he gives me at the end.

“He called me frigid,” I say as I pull away, not quite sure why I’m telling him that.

He actually laughs, his Adam’s apple bobbing with it.

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