shocked at how much she’d done, how quickly she’d done it, and how good it looked.
“I’m glad you’re the healthy type and your microwave popcorn wasn’t buttered. That would have been sticky,” she said as she plucked another piece out of a bowl and stuck it on the edge of a needle. A whole thread full of them dangled on her lap. “Oh, and I hope you don’t mind me digging through your kitchen drawers. I was pleasantly surprised to find that sewing kit.”
“Old tenant,” he murmured, still a little stunned.
“Well, thanks to the former tenant then. Unfortunately he didn’t happen to leave any twinkle lights or pretty red bows behind. But luckily, I hadn’t cleaned out my camera bag,” she added. “I had picked up some construction paper, glitter and glue to make decorations for the studio where I’m interning.”
She’d used all those things to full advantage. Right now, glittery snowmen and Santa shapes dangled from several branches, apparently with directions for making mac-and-cheese on the other side. She had also managed a long strand of construction paper garland, like the kind he’d made as a kid. Red, green and white loops encircled each other, making a colorful chain that draped around the tree.
But that wasn’t all. His pot-pie pan-topper had actually been cut into a star shape. And there was some kind of red-and-white fabric tucked around the bucket, creating a tree skirt. Having no clue where she could have gotten that, he quirked a questioning brow.
She chuckled. “My elf tights. I had two pair in my bag.”
Good God. Tight, shimmery fabric, usually used to encase what he suspected were a pair of beautiful legs, was now hugging a dirty bucket at the base of an old, dead tree?
“I didn’t have any lights, obviously, but I think this’ll work. Hold on.”
He watched as she crawled around the baseboard and fiddled with something on the floor. Suddenly the tree was bathed in a soft, reddish light from below. “Glad I had the red gel on me!”
Not knowing what she meant, he bent to peer at the light, which he realized was a camera flash with a sheet of red plastic over it.
“Voilà!”
He reached for her hand, pulling her to her feet and together they stared at her masterpiece. She’d taken a pretty pathetic stick, added a bunch of random objects and Mac-Gyvered the whole thing into a work of art.
“Wow,” he whispered, genuinely impressed. “It’s amazing.”
She shrugged. “But it’s still not exactly traditional.”
He heard the tremor in her voice and knew where her thoughts had gone—to that dirty word, traditional. For four years, she’d tried hard to distance herself from happy holiday traditions, keeping those sweet memories at bay for fear they’d be accompanied by sad ones. Yet now, she’d stepped out of her comfort zone, doing things she probably remembered doing with the parents she’d lost, even though it was painful for her.
And she’d done it for him.
He turned to her, dropping his hands to her waist, pulling her close to him. Lucy looked up at him, her eyes bright, shining in the holiday light, and he’d swear he had never seen a more beautiful face in his life.
“Thank you,” he whispered. Then he punctuated the thanks by dropping his mouth to hers, kissing her softly.
She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her soft body against him. He’d kissed her earlier, but they’d both been wearing coats, and layers of clothes. Now, with just his T-shirt and her blouse, he was able to feel the fullness of her breasts against his chest. she moaned lightly, moving one leg so their thighs tangled.
As if needing to feel his skin, Lucy moved her hands under the bottom of his shirt, stroking his stomach. He pulled away enough for her to push it up and over his head, liking the way her eyes widened in appreciation as she began to explore his chest. She scraped the back of her finger over his nipple, and Ross hissed in response. This time, when he pulled her close to kiss her again, he could feel the rigid tips of her breasts, separated from his bare skin by only by that silky blouse.
Saying nothing, Lucy began to pull him with her, toward the couch. Rather than follow, he bent and picked her up. Cradling her in his arms, he crossed the room and sat down, keeping her on his lap. They never broke the kiss. It just went on and on, slow and deep and wet.
Unable to resist, Ross reached for her stomach, trailing his fingertips over the blouse, hearing her purr in response. She arched up to meet his touch, telling him she wanted more. He tugged the material free of her pants, almost shaking in anticipation, knowing he’d been dying to touch her since they’d met.
As he’d expected, Lucy’s body was silkier than her clothes. He took pure, visceral pleasure in the sensation, delighting in the textures against his callused hand.
“Oh, yes, more,” she whispered against his mouth.
Glad for the invitation, he began to slide the buttons open, exposing more of Her warm, supple skin. Lucy shifted a little, helping him tug the blouse free of her pants, so that by the time he unfastened the last button, the shirt fell open completely.
Ross stopped kissing her long enough to look at her, soaking in the breathtaking sight. Her breasts were high and round, every inch of her creamy smooth. Her lacy bra did nothing to conceal the tight, puckered nipples. And the way she arched up toward him told him what she needed.
He happily complied, covering one taut peak with his mouth, before tasting her with his tongue through the fabric.
She jerked, tangling her hands in his hair, pressing his head harder to her breast. Ross heard her tiny, raspy breaths, the little whimpers she couldn’t contain, and knew she was loving every bit of this.
So was he.
With care, he lowered one of her bra-straps, releasing her breast and catching it in his hand. Her tight nipples demanded more attention, and he licked and kissed her there, sucking deep until she was squirming on his lap.
That squirming drove him a little crazy. His cock was rock-hard beneath her sexy butt, and the way she slid up and down on him told him she knew it. It also told him she wanted to keep going.
Needing to feel her heat, to see if she was as tight and wet as he suspected she was, he unsnapped her pants and slid the zipper down. He was careful in his movements, intentionally scraping his hand against the skimpy yellow panties she wore beneath. Satin over silk.
She didn’t pull away, instead pushing against his hand, practically demanding that he touch her more thoroughly. As though he needed to be asked?
His mouth still on her breast, he could feel the raging beat of her heart and knew she was almost out of her mind with excitement. Breathing deeply to inhale that musky, feminine scent that practically drugged him into incoherence, he tugged the elastic away and moved his hand to the curls covering her sex. She whimpered, digging her nails lightly into his bare back. She was begging for more, though she didn’t say a word.
Needing more, too, he slipped his finger between the warm, soft lips of her sex, almost groaning at how slick and wet she was.
“Oh, God,” she cried, her eyes flying open. “Please, don’t stop.”
