Page 30 of The Hanukkah Hook-Up

“Nora, I’m going to be fine.” Beck had followed her, and was now standing shirtless in her bedroom doorway. “Really, it’s all good.”

“No, it’s not! It’s all my fault!” She slid her hands, slick with aloe, over his hot-to-the-touch shoulders. “I’ll make a terrible Jewish wife!”

“What?” he laughed, stilling her hands once they reached his chest. “Look. It’s already going away. Now that the air’s hit it. I’m fine.”

He was. Smooth, solid pecs. Cut, muscular stomach. The rash had all but disappeared.So fine.When she realized she was admiring the thin dusting of dark hair that disappeared into the button of his jeans, she jerked her head up.Oh gosh.Bedhead again.

Now his hands were sticky from touching hers. But she didn’t mind one bit as he traced his fingertips around the hems of her cold shoulder top, where the cut-out pattern exposed her skin. “Been wanting to do that,” he breathed. Cider and cinnamon still lingered as she tilted her head to softly meet his lips where they fell on hers in a velvet crush.

She pulled him with her, knowing the bed would catch them. Their mouths more eager now, hands exploring. She yanked at her own top, yearning to feel his bare skin hot against hers. Beck sat back only long enough to assist her, then was all over her again, mouth on her lacy bra strap, across her cleavage, fingers deftly popping the clasp at her spine. She sighed as he pulled her bra from between them, leaving nothing between the press of their bodies.

“Not your fault at all.” He let out a shaky breath as she worked to undo his button fly where his hard ridge strained against it. “The sweater either.” He grinned. “I should’ve left my T-shirt on…as a barrier.”

“Speaking of…” Nora remembered between kisses, shucking his jeans as gracefully as she could. “…I’ve got a few in my purse, courtesy of Jonah Klein.”

“Such a mensch, that guy.”

She reached back toward her nightstand where she had left her clutch bag, but Beck took full advantage; sliding down the stretch of her body, peeling off her leggings. Next, her new socks, one by one. “No need for future Jocko to bear witness.” Then, drugging her with kisses along her inner thigh as he worked his way back up.

“And no rush,” he whispered, his mouth hot and tantalizingly close to her most sensitive spot. She sucked a breath of air as his tongue touched down. “I’m all for making it last.”

* * *

Even Alex’s imagination – and his dirty mind – couldn’t hold a candle to what reality had dropped in his lap. Literally. Nora, all of her. Mewing, sighing, quivering Nora beautifully above him. That first wave of attraction upon first sight of her had Tsunamied as he had spent more time with her, gotten to know her. Tonight, being able to touch her, taste her…feel her break against him. It had been her name on his lips as he lost himself in her.

He’d always taken his time with other girlfriends. Hell, he and Sheila took six months to finally get around to it. Lights off, covers up, that’s-the-way-she-wanted-things Sheila. It was different with Nora. And not just because she had set every bulb ablaze in her tiny apartment during her first-aid quest and they hadn’t bothered to shut them off. Although to watch her…damn, he was getting turned on again.

Nora was different, period. Time had done that slow-down trick again, as he held her in his arms, tracing circles on her fully bare shoulder. Waiting for his heart, at least, to return to its normally scheduled programming. He didn’t think his life was capable of it.

“So what was that comment, earlier? Something about a Jewish wife?”

Her mussed hair rubbed against his cheek as she moved to cover her face, groaning a laugh.

“I just had this…oh, it’s stupid. I let my mother get in my head about something. Don’t worry, it didn’t follow us into bed.” She knocked on the wooden headboard for good measure.

“Kina hora.”

She looked even more glamorous, sitting up and looking at him with the sheet crumpled against her boobs and a long bare leg bent between his own, than in that dress — on that boat. The color in her cheeks, dark eyes alight. But she didn’t say anything further on the subject.

“I like you like this.” She ran her fingers through where his hair now curled at the ends, rumpling it. “The all-sexed-up with no sleep look.”

“All you.”

“Hmm, the aloe may’ve helped.”

She happily stretched up against him as he laughed.

“Did I tell you about the time my mom almost killed my dad with a deli sandwich?”

Nora gasped, shaking her head against his chest.

“She wasn’t even a Jewish wife yet. They were dating, and he was working endlessly on his Ph.D. dissertation. She’d promised to bring him lunch, but…you know, she’s an artist. She got deep into a project, lost track of time. So he calls her, he’s starving. She runs out, stopping at the deli near the campus, forgets to bring money…”

“Artists,” Nora tsked.

“When she explained her plight the owner said no problem, that my dad was a good customer. And did she want his usual. Which she gratefully accepted.”

“But let me guess. He had no usual?”

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