Stocking Stuffer, page 9
“I missed you, Bailey. I missed everything about you, and all I want now is time with you, however long life gives us.” His voice was low and rough with emotion, and Bailey’s eyes burned.
“I missed you too, Mack. So much it hurts. You don’t know what it’s been like.”
“I do, honey, I do. It’s lonely. It’s cold. It’s like the North Pole without a hint of Santa Claus. It’s no life at all, with nothing to believe in.”
Tears escaped her eyes to roll down her cheeks, and he gently wiped them away.
“No, it isn’t.” She’d tried convincing herself for years that the time they were apart was full, complete, that there wasn’t a gaping hole in her chest that had never healed. But the truth was, what she’d felt at sixteen for Mack, had never gone away. It wasn’t a teenage infatuation. It was real. She’d found the mate to her soul so early in her life and had lost him too soon.
Mack kissed her cheek, then her forehead before finally kissing her mouth.
“I would give anything to go back to that night and kiss you . . . and never let you go. But if I did . . . if that was possible, I might never truly have learned how much you mean to me.” He touched his forehead to hers, but this time he wasn’t letting her go—he was holding on.
Pain and joy tugged her heart in two directions. The girl she had been would always remember that night and every lonely night that had followed. But the woman she had become felt a vast and infinite joy as powerful as the pain. Wasn’t that life? To truly appreciate the joy by embracing the chance of sorrow as well?
“Promise me no more tears,” Mack murmured. “I can’t bear to see you cry.”
She sniffled and tried to nod, but it was a promise she couldn’t keep, and they both knew it.
“Perhaps I need to distract you.” He peppered her face with kisses until she was giggling and writhing beneath him.
As she lost her breath he slowed, his hands sliding beneath her sweater. She wanted to be free of her clothes, and so did he. Despite their need, neither of them rushed this now. Clothes fell to the floor piece by agonizing piece, and only when they were skin to skin beneath the covers did they come together. Mack sank into her, and she threw her head back. Her only sounds were soft gasps and stifled moans as he filled her. The claiming was infinitely tender and infinitely perfect. This moment was about so much more than sex. It was about loving each other in every way they could. Making vows with their hearts, bodies, and souls.
Mack captured her hands against the bed on either side of her head and laced his fingers through hers, fusing them together. As excitement built in her body, everything around her seemed to intensify. The snowflakes falling in the moonlight outside were glittering fractals, and the feel of Mack’s soft breath upon her face was comforting and exciting. His eyes were luminous in the dark, blazing for her alone. In his gaze she saw their future spiraling out ahead of her like a kaleidoscope with a thousand new dreams. All of them had Mack by her side.
“I love you, Bailey,” he breathed. “I love all that you are, all that you will be.”
She had no words left, only actions. She leaned up, her lips seeking his, kissing him with the fire of her love burning inside her and knowing he would taste that love upon her lips. Perhaps . . . perhaps Shakespeare did know a thing or two about love after all. When she came apart beneath Mack, the pleasure was so exquisite, so sharply perfect that she knew something inside her was changed forever. There was no going back. It was all or nothing with her and Mack.
“My God,” he groaned and dropped his head to the bedding beside her as they stayed fused together, their bodies a tangle of exhausted limbs. “Everything about that was magic,” he murmured.
“What?” she whispered in exhausted confusion.
He slowly withdrew from her body and tucked her against him, pulling the covers tight around them.
“Magic . . . it’s so deep within you . . . it’s who you are.” He smiled drowsily. “You’re proof magic is real.”
Bailey still didn’t understand what he meant, but maybe she could puzzle it out in the morning.
“Stay with me?” She slid her arm around his waist beneath the covers, holding on to him.
“Always,” he vowed.
Always . . . The word led her into a snowy world of dreams, with the Christmas dawn just hours away. Outside the snow continued to fall.
Eight
John Willis stepped off his front porch on Christmas morning and inhaled the fresh clean scent of snow in the air. There was no smell like it in the world. It was pure. That was the best way he could describe it. There was a purity of nature in snowfall. He walked down the driveway and then looked toward the Macholans’ house. He noticed a set of footprints that led from the back of the neighbors’ house toward the window below Bailey’s room. A tall ladder leaned against the brick of his house, stopping just at the second-story window of his daughter’s bedroom.
“Huh . . .” He walked over to the ladder and brushed the snow off its rungs. The name Macholan had been written along the flat part of the ladder in black marker. He moved his gaze between Bailey’s window and the window that faced hers in the Macholans’ house. Mack’s room.
With a slow smile, he chuckled and shook his head.
“About damned time.” He picked up the ladder and carried it toward Mike Macholan’s backyard shed, whistling as he did so.
Mack woke slowly, as though the pleasant dreams he’d had all night held him gently in that place between waking and dreaming. Snow-white light illuminated Bailey’s bedroom. As he gazed down at the top of her head, which was pillowed on his chest, he was overcome by that same overwhelming, unbearable joy. Maybe it was possible to die from happiness. He wasn’t used to this level of euphoria, but he welcomed it openly. He stroked a hand over the strands of her brown hair, which held a golden tint in the morning light. She stayed wrapped around him, cuddling against him like he was a treasured stuffed animal. For some reason, the thought made him smile. He liked being Bailey’s favorite toy. Oh yes, he would be anything she wanted him to be.
When she finally stirred from sleep, she yawned and then froze, as if reality had just dawned and she suddenly realized where she was and who she was wrapped around.
“Mack.” Her sleep-softened voice and those beautiful hazel-brown eyes fixed on his face, and his heart hammered wildly. He really had been blind to live next to her their entire childhood and never see her for who she really was. His future. His beginning, his end, his everything in between.
“No regrets about last night?” she asked, worry darkening her face.
“Only that I didn’t come to you sooner.”
Relief illuminated her soft hazel-brown eyes, and she let out a soft breath that warmed his skin.
“Let’s not talk about what we should have done. Let’s think instead of what we will do,” Bailey said as she scooted up his body a few inches and straddled him. Mack groaned as she rubbed her naked body against his.
“I loved last night,” Bailey said as she tiptoed her fingers up his chest. “But promise me that bad boy Mack will always be there when I want him.” She let the covers drop to her waist and arched her back. Her breasts, so perfect, taunted him.
He sat up and wrapped one arm around her back as he leaned in and took one nipple into his mouth, sucking hard. She clutched the back of his head, digging her fingers into his hair and whimpering softly as he lightly bit her nipple. Then he kissed a path to her other breast, and she wriggled as he slid one palm under the sheet and smacked her plump little ass. God, he was going to enact so many fantasies about her ass.
“You want bad Mack?” He fisted a hand in her hair, and then before she could answer, he kissed her hard and hungry. He didn’t let her have a moment to breathe until he was satisfied with his kiss. Then he lifted her off his lap and growled softly, “On your hands and knees, babe.”
She complied, and he knelt behind her on the bed, one hand curled around her hip. His other hand fisted his cock as he guided himself into her.
“Fuck, you’re so tight.” He saw stars as he thrust inside her. She squeezed him, the wet, hot feel of her too perfect to be real. He slid his hand around her thigh to find her mound. Then he stroked her until he found the little bud of her clit. She jolted and gave a little half gasp, half squeak, and he chuckled. He wasn’t going to let her come until he was certain he would overwhelm her. He wanted her to remember this Christmas morning for the rest of their lives.
He withdrew and slammed back into her, working her into a frenzy. She dropped her face into the pillows in an attempt to muffle her sounds as he pounded against her ass. God, he’d never felt this connected to anyone during sex. It was like he and Bailey fit more than just physically. The pleasure this gave him wasn’t just physical. So much more of it was emotional now.
Mack lifted her up so they were both on their knees, and then he turned her face to the side and claimed her mouth with a hot kiss as he rammed his hips faster and faster against her backside. When he stroked her clit again, she cried out against his mouth. He swallowed her scream of pleasure and then released himself inside her. It was only when they collapsed on the bed that he remembered a condom and the fact that he hadn’t used one.
“Bailey . . .” He closed his eyes. “Sorry, I forgot to use a condom.”
She pressed a kiss to his jaw. “I’m on birth control. It’s okay.”
He let out a breath of relief, then realized how bad that might seem. He cupped her face. “For the record, I’m all in for kids. I just want you to be ready too. We should have a year to travel and enjoy being married before we add to the Macholan clan.”
“You mean the Willis clan,” Bailey corrected with a rebellious laugh.
“The Willis hyphen Macholan clan,” he compromised, emphasizing their joined names.
“Perfect.” Bailey kissed him. It was a soft, lingering kiss that was full of love, so much love his heart quivered in his chest.
“I love you,” he whispered when their mouths parted.
“I love you too.” She bit her lip shyly, and he pulled her even closer to him.
“Let’s stay in bed all day.”
“Our parents might object to that,” she giggled.
“Fine.” He stroked a fingertip down her beautiful nose and then traced her lips. “We eat turkey, open presents, then go to bed, and then we eat cookies and then go to bed again.”
“Bailey! Come down for breakfast,” her mother shouted from the bottom of the stairs.
“Shit. I better escape out the window.” Mack gave her one more kiss before he got out of bed and began pulling his clothes on. When he finished pulling on his jeans, he paused by the window. “What the hell?”
“What is it?” Bailey sat up, clutching the sheet to keep herself warm and covered.
“My ladder’s gone.”
“You’re kidding.” Bailey flopped back on the bed. “I guess someone knows you’re in here, then.”
“One of our dads, that’s for sure,” Mack muttered, and then when he turned back he bumped the nightstand and something hit the floor, making a clear, crisp jingling sound. He bent to pick it up. It was a large silver bell. He gave it a little shake and grinned at the stunned expression on Bailey’s face.
“Yours?”
“Yeah . . . the one you gave me for Christmas when I was twelve. It stopped working. It used to ring.”
Mack stared at the bell in his palm. The silver was so bright that it seemed almost white. He swallowed hard as a strange emotion he couldn’t name took hold of his chest. “Bailey, the one I gave you all those years ago was broken from the start.” He shook the bell, hearing the crisp, clear jingle. This one was definitely not broken.
“Last night, when I thought we would never . . .” Bailey swallowed hard. “It wouldn’t ring. It was silent.”
He understood what she meant. A bell that didn’t ring, a silence that seemed more silent than imaginable. It was a silence of the heart, one that you felt, not just heard. It was why he’d called Bailey “Bells.” Because for him, she’d always been the ringing sound of a Christmas jingle bell. A beautiful sound that filled him with love and hope. He’d almost forgotten that…until he heard this bell ring.
He shook the bell again, that beautiful sound filling the air as though everyone on earth could hear it. A broken bell that was no longer broken . . . a bell that rang into the bright, endless Christmas morning. Bailey’s eyes were wide and full of questioning wonder as she stared between him and the bell.
It was then that Mack realized he believed.
Mr. McGinty sat on a wooden park bench that faced the rows of houses on the street where he’d lived the last twenty-eight years. He held his cane, his black leather gloves trimmed with white ermine fur. He blinked away the falling snowflakes that clung to his lashes. It was another perfect Christmas. Now it was time to move on, time to find the next place that needed a little more magic.
He slowly rose from the bench, his eyes still on the Willises’ house as he heard the clear sound of a jingle bell ringing. His smile grew and he let out a deep belly laugh of pure joy that echoed in the air.
“It only took you twenty-eight years to believe in me, Mack.”
Only the snowflakes witnessed the twinkle in Mr. McGinty’s eyes as he vanished into the beautiful snowy Christmas morning.
* * *
Thank you so much for reading Stocking Stuffer! If you want to warm up with a steamy enemies to lovers summer romance, turn the page to read the first 3 chapters of Summer Heat Wave!
Summer Heat Wave
PROLOGUE
Paradise Island, the Bahamas
* * *
The waves came rushing along the debris-strewn beach toward Blair Ashworth as the hurricane winds nearly knocked her down. Palm trees bent and whipped beneath the onslaught of the storm. The once pure blue sea was black, and the sand was cold and wet as it dragged her feet down in terrifying suction. Fear seized her heart in its claws, squeezing until she could barely breathe, as another wave surged toward her. They hadn’t seen the storm coming, not this fast . . .
Water knocked her off her feet, and she fell, her hands hitting concrete as she collided with the resort sidewalk. Strong arms grasped her body, lifting her up and bracing her against a wall of hot, determined male. The intense warmth she felt had nothing to do with the current danger of the storm and everything to do with the man who’d just saved her. A man who shouldn’t have saved her because he despised her.
“Can you walk?” Denver Ramsey’s deep voice rang out crisply across the howling wind, stilling her panic and the rush of chaotic thoughts in her head. His voice demanded that she respond, that she meet the challenge of being brave.
“Y-yes . . . I think so.” Blair ignored the stab of pain in her knees and forearms. They had to keep moving and get to safety or risk being pulled out to sea by the next wave.
“Let me help you.” An arm gripped her waist, holding her close to the hard male body it belonged to. She lifted her head to stare into the devastatingly perfect face of Denver Ramsey. The man she had been sent to seduce . . . into a business deal. A man who hated her with every breath in his body.
Yet here he was, saving her life as a storm ravaged the beautiful island he called home. Wind whipped his dark hair into his hazel eyes, which looked darker as they reflected the stormy skies above them. His once crisp white dress shirt soaked with the rain and surging seawater, clung to his muscled form.
“Just a bit farther,” Denver assured her as they trudged down the walkway toward the entrance to the private luxury apartments of the Seven Seas Beach Club. Water swamped the sidewalk, and he held her closer, keeping her on her feet when she might have been knocked down again. The doors opened, and two resort employees in raingear rushed out to help them.
“Are you all right, sir?” one of the men asked Denver as he handed him a small towel.
“Yes, thank you. Are all of the guests safe?”
“Yes, sir. All safe and accounted for. We have implemented the hurricane protection plan. All of the housing is secure as well. The National Weather Service has already downgraded the storm to a category one, and within a few hours we should have clear skies again.”
Denver still held Blair close, but she shivered as a chill from the icy ocean settled in her bones. Now aware of her shaking, he looked down at her, and without words he used the towel to dry her face and as much of her as he could manage before the towel was soaked.
“Miss Ashworth and I will be in my apartment. Call me if you need me.” He handed the towel back to the employee.
“Yes, sir.” The employee returned to the front desk.
Blair followed Denver through a hallway decorated with stunning seascapes portraying the many faces of the ocean, from gentle surf to raging waves. Just like everything at the Seven Seas, they were top quality, elegant, and like the club’s owner, the pieces also held a bit of mystery.
Denver released his hold on her waist and lifted his right wrist, which bore a silver metal band. He waved the band in front of the electronic door lock, and it clicked open. Then he opened the door and stepped aside, allowing her to enter.
It was a bad idea to go anywhere alone with him, though not because he was dangerous. He was dangerous, but not in a way that threatened her. Rather, Denver Ramsey was dangerous to any woman who wanted to keep her head on straight, her heart safe, and her panties on. On his good days, the man looked like a tempting water god, but right then he looked like a vengeful Poseidon. She inwardly flinched, knowing just how deep his dislike of her ran. Hell, one could almost call his cold disdain for her hate. But Denver didn’t know her well enough to truly hate her. No, his true hate was reserved for her father and her uncle.
