Page 10 of One Night at Christmas

He tugged at the front of his jeans, which he hadn’t removed yet. She couldn’t miss the tent there and then began to wonder just how big he was given his body size. Just because a man was tall didn’t mean he was hung. She’d learned that from a past lover. Not that she needed Bryson to have a huge dick.

He shoved both hands into his hair and stumbled back a step. “I’m having a real hard time not touching you. I knew you were beautiful, but wow, your body is… I’m about to explode.”

She grinned and sashayed by him. “Good.”

At the side of the bed, she put one knee up. Bryson moved behind her and dropped his hands onto her shoulders. She almost lost it when the heat from his body warmed hers. He stepped closer, and her skin tingled. She felt his thigh brushing her ass. Her phone rang, and they looked over at it on the bedside table. Morris was calling.

Bryson squeezed her shoulders. “I feel bad for him. Did you tell him you were coming here?”

“Of course not. We’re not together. You know that.”

He turned her to face him and raised her chin. “I know, but there’s no way he’s stopped caring about you.”

“Are you trying to make me feel guilty?”

He planted a featherlight kiss on her lips. “No, I want to know that you’re sure and that this is what you want. I don’t want to think you’re doing it only because I want it. I refuse to influence you in a bad way.”

“You’re not.”

He couldn’t get any sweeter. Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them away.

“I want this. When you get married, I’m not going to be your secret friend anymore.”

“I definitely don’t want that.”

“We agreed, Bryson.”

“We didn’t, but I respect your decision.” He reached over to grab the phone and put it in her hands. “Mind not answering? Just for tonight?”

She agreed because this experience was for the two of them. If she could convince herself that this was a final goodbye to Bryson, then she could move on. Maybe what feelings she had for Morris would develop into the emotions a wife has for her husband. If not, then at least she was free to walk forward.

She silenced the phone, tossed it aside, and then reached for the straps of her bra. He covered her hands with his, stilling them. A gentle kiss on her shoulder sent chills racing up her spine. He brushed his fingers over her skin, and she trembled. His warm breath stirred sensations in her belly. She tilted her head to the side when he began tracing tiny kisses along her neck.

“Bryson.”

She breathed his name on a pant because he excited her with just a touch. His fingers tangled in the straps of her bra, and he dragged one off her shoulder. She gulped, trying to calm down. Looking into his eyes increased her fear and then melted all resistance. He covered her mouth with a kiss that burned her alive.

Gently he prodded with his tongue, and she opened to let him in. Tongue-kissing—she was tongue-kissing Bryson, the man she loved with all her being. She arched toward him, and he knelt on the bed and ran a hand along her back. While they continued to kiss each other hungrily, he pulled the bra strap lower. Her breast popped free, and he drew back to get a look.

“Your breasts are amazing,” he moaned. “So soft.”

She shut her eyes, enjoying his touch. A tiny pinch of her nipple stung, but they were always sensitive when she was turned on. Bryson leaned down to run his tongue in a circle around the exposed nipple. She tried to watch in fascination, but the pleasure got too good not to shut her eyes again and just feel.

He moaned and took the stiff peak into his mouth. A gentle suck had her whimpering, and she sank backward onto the bed. He followed her down. She squirmed with her desire rising by the second. He leaned an elbow beside her and slung a heavy thigh over hers. She felt trapped but welcomed it. Running her hand up his arm, she moved to his hair and tangled fingers into it. How many times had she seen it wet from a shower and wondered what it would be like to touch it? Now she did, and it brought the satisfaction she hoped for.

After playing with her breast for a while, Bryson raised his head and flattened a hand on her belly. His fingertips slipped just inside the band of her panties.

He paused. “Do you have protection?”

“I’m on the pill.”

He nodded. “We should discuss me wearing a glove. I swear I’m clean.”

“So am I.” She had been tested not long ago, but she was intimate with Morris since then. If she were smart, she would insist he wear a condom. She didn’t want to, and she should be ashamed of the fact. A desire to be as close to Bryson as possible was too strong a temptation.

Be smart, Charon.

He gazed into her eyes and flashed that smile she saw so little—the nervous one. “I…uh…I have something else to tell you.”

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