Page 48 of Stella's Christmas Rescue
My heart breaks when his voice cracks, and I realize that in addition to everything he just said, he sees this as another family’s Christmas ruined. “Any idea what caused the fire?”
“Flame rollout from a cracked heat exchange in the furnace. That’s why maintenance is important enough that we host a town hall on HVAC upkeep every year. But heat exchanges can also just crack without any neglect, so there’s really only so much we can do. I mean, it’s really rare, but it happens. And now, I’m rambling. I’m sorry.” He stands up. “I need a shower.”
“Okay. Let’s get you in the shower.”
“If you don’t mind,” he holds his hand out at me in a stop gesture and shakes his head. “I’d like to shower alone.”
“Not at all. Whatever you need.”
He stalks up the stairs, while I gaze at the space where he was. He is so passionate about helping other people that I’ve never thought about the toll it takes on him afterward. Everything comes with a cost, I suppose. I sigh, then decide to go to bed, because I’m not sure if there’s anything else I can do.
I’m glad he decided to shower. I wouldn’t want my sheets to be as smoky as he was when he got home. The white noise of the water begins to knock me out, but then I hear the shower turn off. The bathroom door opens, and Jordan stands there, backlit. He’s hulking, and the edge of his silhouette glistens. I wait for him to speak, but he’s silent. “Jordan, what is it?”
He strides to the bed, then launches himself on top of me, squirming to get under the blankets and closer to me. It’s nothing I had expected, certainly not after everything he’s been through. His mouth still tastes like bourbon, as his tongue brushes mine. No smoke scent, thankfully.
Once he’s under the blanket, he rips at my pajamas until they have a hole in the seam between my legs. Like he’s frantic to be next to me, skin on skin. His drive is making me wet. While he’s working my clothes into shreds, I reach for a condom. I pass it to him, and as he puts it on, I pull my T—shirt off. By the time we’re both naked, he thrusts inside me.
We cry out together, as he fills me up. There is shock on his face, like he’s never felt any of this before. Jordan scoops his thick arms under my back, then lifts me close to him. I’m sort of riding him, but it’s more that he’s bouncing me on his cock while he’s on his knees. Before I know it, he turns and lays down, all the while keeping me on him.
I’m fixated on Jordan’s brown eyes. I can’t look away. Neither can he, it seems. His hands interlock with mine, and I gallop on him. Up and down, my hips have a mind of their own. I burn for him, like there’s a fire inside that only he canextinguish. When I roll my body on his, it’s like he adds kindling to the flame. My every movement is inspired by the pleasure from his body, inside and out. Then he catches fire, too, and his body rolls to meet mine.
We’re too far away. We need to be closer.
I pull my fingers from his, then lean down and kiss him. His growls flood my head. With me bent forward like this, he cocks his hips up and thrusts into me from underneath. My moans become shrieks. Every thrust hits the right spot. I’m so close that my pussy pulses against him. I start to shake, but then Jordan thrusts deep into me and stops. I whine without words.
He rolls me onto my back, then folds me in half with my legs near my ears. I didn’t know I could bend like this. I’m so much tighter now. God, it’s so good. All his weight and heat and energy come down on me.
He growls. I love it. But I can’t breathe. His growls become louder, too.
My back arches to try to make space to breathe. Jordan releases my legs. They hit the bed. He dives on top of me again. His body hair is rough against my nipples, and each pump is another abrasion they crave.
Jordan leans down. His mouth crashes into me. I breathe him in and run my fingers through his damp hair. God, I want his everything. His hopes, his fears, his yearning. I want it all inside me. I need it. When I realize that I need him, my orgasm hits me like a truck. My lungs squeeze tight as I gasp, forcing me to suck in his air.
He breaks our kiss to breathe, but I pull him back down to me. He pounds deeper into me. His body tightens. He’s going to come, I know it. I’ve learned his sounds. I grab his muscular ass and pull him deep inside right before he comes. He groans and roars, his body jumps into me repeatedly. He gradually settles down, gasping in my face.
Jordan stares into my eyes, his breath blowing my hair in little puffs. I lean up and bite his bottom lip. He half—giggles, then kisses me. Finally, he quietly says, “Let me go clean up. Again.”
“I don’t know about that. I like you here.”
He grins. “Me too. But if I don’t pull it out now, it could go badly. Or at the very least, messy.”
“Fine, fine. Off with you.”
He goes back to the bathroom, and I stretch out. My skin is singing with his energy and my colossal orgasm. By the time he comes out again, I’m almost asleep. He curls around my body, like the best big spoon ever. Then he murmurs in my ear. “Stella Collins, I love you.”
My heartbeat thunders in my ears while my body freezes up. I have no idea what to say. So, I don’t say anything at all. I hope he thinks I’m asleep. It’s not that I don’t care about him, but I’m a ‘Love Virgin’. I’ve never said the big L, and I’m not sure that I ever could. Especially not now.
How can I be in love while I’m in Witness Protection? With my neighbor, who is way older than me? Who is also my bodyguard (sort of)? And who I have nothing in common with?
How can I not be in love with him? Timing doesn’t really matter, not in the grand scheme of things. I’ve always heard love comes at the worst time. His age just means he’s seen more than me and would probably be a better father than some guy my age. Plus, he’s so protective. I know he’d keep our children safe. And we do have something in common. We both want me to stay alive.
He’s asleep before I can even respond. Thank God. But for me, sleep never comes.
17
“Didn’t sleep well?” I ask the sleepyhead flopping her way down the stairs. Her pajamas are cute plaid things, and I wonder just how many sets of pjs she owns. I have never seen her in the same set twice. I guess that’s the difference between men and women.
I have two pairs myself.
