Page 13 of Can't Miss Christmas

CHAPTER 4

Christmas Eve

Grace awakened to a crack of light peeking through strange curtains and the sensation of finally being warm in a cozy, wonderful way. As consciousness dawned, she stretched, bumping into a leg—a leg!—that was definitely not her own. Another tentative stretch told her the situation was far worse. An entire male body appeared to be wrapped around her. His deep, regular breathing assured her he was asleep.

Her every muscle froze in place. The large, masculine arm draped casually over her told her Graham had survived the night. And the very male part pressing into her back let her know he was definitely neurologically intact. A big bicep half covered by a gray T-shirt sleeve encased her solidly. Her gaze trailed from his arm down to his big, beautiful hand, his long, slender fingers resting on the comforter in front of her. Oh dear God, he was wrapped around her like a hot pretzel. For just a moment, she lay still, encased in his strength, breathing in his familiar scent.

Waking up wrapped around each other like this used to be habit. He still stirred her, now and always, in ways no other man ever would. Being near him was to be on fire, and that hadn’t changed at all. Underneath the flames, she recognized something even more disturbing—a sense that everything was right in her world, although the only thing that had changed was him suddenly being in it.

The big muscles flexed. The arm pulled away, and the masculine weight shifted. Grace quickly shut her eyes and pretended to sleep.

The bed lightened as Graham rose to use the bathroom. She heard the muffled sounds of running water, a soft voice talking on the phone. What would today bring? They were stuck in a small town without a car after a major winter storm. It was Christmas Eve.

She didn’t want this bubble to end. Being with him was like being covered by a soft blanket, or wearing a comfy pair of jeans—unlike anything she’d felt before, except with him.

She was rummaging through her suitcase when the bathroom door opened and Graham walked out, hair damp, smelling like heaven. He wore jeans and nothing else, which made her stomach plunge down to the floor and her cheeks blaze. She tried to avert her eyes, look anywhere but at the hills and valleys of muscle, the light coating of dark hair, the way his jeans hung low on his lean hips.

Somehow, she managed to pass him and get in the bathroom, where she used the time to try to calm the hell down. If she didn’t come up with an excuse to leave this room, something combustible was going to happen between them. She had to get out while she still had all her wits about her.

When she’d finally got her breathing under control, she left the bathroom, walked toward her suitcase, and stubbed her toe on the bed.

She let out a curse and hopped around a little, imagining what she must look like with her bedhead hair, red plaid flannel, and Christmas socks. Very sexy. Unlike the delicious, muscular god walking toward her.

She tried to use the pain to distract herself from how her mouth had suddenly gone dry and her knees felt as wobbly as a one-year-old’s, but it wasn’t really working. Worse, Graham stepped a little closer.

She splayed out her arms, warning him back. All that lean muscle, all that raw, masculine heat—it couldnotcome near her. She would throw herself at him, smooth her hands over all that hard, bountiful muscle, and beg for things. Her body could not be trusted. “I’m fine. Really. Just stubbed my toe.”

“Want me to take a look?”

His gaze was torching her, like paper in a fire that turns immediately to ash and blows away.

The fact that he was now inches away with his lips quirked into the slightest smile told her he didn’t heed her warning, or give a damn about it. And oh, she did not want him to. He was so close now, she could smell the soap from his shower, see the little beads of water on his shoulders. His fingers gripped her elbow, and she swore it tingled from his touch. Other parts of her were sort of on fire too. So not good. “Let’s see it,” he said, the smile morphing into a wicked grin.

“Graham, I’m fine.” She tried to shrug away. He dropped his hand, but still she felt pinned in place, unable to move or even breathe. Electricity buzzed and snapped between them. She didn’t want him to see how much he affected her, yet she was helpless with him so near.

His gaze homed in on her lips. He was going to…yes, he was. Kiss her. Her heartbeat thrummed in her throat, and every muscle froze in anticipation.

She wanted it. Wantedhim. So, so badly.

Graham lowered his mouth. The dip of his head was so familiar, yet it made every nerve stand on end. At last, their lips met. His were soft and pliant, and they brushed against hers, carefully and slowly. Her hand was trembling as she wrapped it around his neck and pulled him toward her until their bodies were flush, fitting together like they were always meant to.

That simple move blew careful and slow right out of the water. His mouth crushed hers, devouring her with deep, sensual kisses. His tongue slid inside her mouth, and she met it with equal vigor, desire roaring and crashing between them, unleashed like a storm surge, uncontrollable and insatiable.

Suddenly, Graham pulled back, out of breath. He cradled her face in his hands and looked at her tenderly. “I missed you,” he said. “I missedthis.”

His words terrified as well as kindled hope inside her. In her life, people didn’t stay. And when they left, they sure as hell never came back.

“I think about you all the time,” he said. “I came to your book signing because I had to see you. I tried to tell myself it was for Emmy, but it wasn’t. It was forme.”

Grace reached up and circled his wrists with her hands. “When you were slumped over that wheel, all I could think of is how we wasted our chance together.”

“It doesn’t have to be too late for us,” he said. Oh, how she wanted to believe those sweet words. When he kissed her again, deep and hungry, her knees buckled, and they both fell back onto the bed. Thoughts about divorce and mistakes and tragedies fled, and she got lost in the feel of his lips and hands as they roved all over her body.

He rolled them both over until he was on top of her, pulling up her flannel in handfuls, stroking the skin of her sides and back. He helped her drag her nightgown over her head, kissing her lips, her neck, the sensitive skin of her collarbone. She reveled in the way he held her, whispered soft words to her, nipped and licked and kissed her while she lay there clinging to him, unable to get enough.

Grace threaded her fingers though the coarse silk of his hair, ran her hands along the ridges of his back and the smooth, lean muscle of his chest. Every touch was precious. She took nothing for granted. His touch was the same, familiar, expected, and yet different—more hungry, more desperate, making her tremble as if it was their first time together.

“I missed you too,” she whispered as he kissed her breast, flicked her nipple with his tongue, and took it into his mouth. Before she could even let out a coherent sound, he traced the band of her panties with his fingers, back and forth, teasing, until her body felt like a guitar string, taut and quivering. She was close to tears, overwhelmed with the joy of being in his arms. A joy she never thought she’d experience again.

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