Page 54 of Romancing Christmas
“How about a pie?I make a chocolate pecan pie that’s pretty amazing, if I do say so myself.”
“You’d do that for me?”
She grins, shaking her head.“Oh no.We’re making ittogether.I’ll teach you.”
“I’m in your debt.”
She slides her key into the door, and when it opens, she sends me a seductive grin.“Do you want to come inside and find some way of repaying me?”
“I’d love to.”
I follow her straight up her stairs and into her bedroom.It’s the first time I’ve been in here, and for some reason, I hesitate.
It’s—such a sweet room.I glance around me at the subtle, rose petaled wallpaper that looks like something you’d see in one of those B&B hotels that guys like me hear about but never go to.The bed is topped with a duvet with a pink checkered pattern and the sheets are thin stripes of pink.And then there are the pillows…
“You must really like pink,” I say cautiously.
She laughs, reaching for me as we arrive at the side of her plush bed.“I don’t, actually.Bryant hated pink, though.And right after the divorce, covering this room in a giant pink nightmare was kind of my way of lashing out.”
I laugh.“I love it then.”My smile broadens in surprise as I think of this other side of her—a side I can’t even imagine.
Angry Ava.I wonder what that’s like.
“You do?”she asks, giving me a perfectly coy look as she tugs off my coat, then my shirt, and tosses them both on the floor.She tops the pile with her own shirt, letting me enjoy the sight of her bare skin in a lace bra that looks like the perfect blend of practical and sexy.
“I’m secure enough in my masculinity that I can handle some pink,” I joke, glancing briefly at the pile of clothes that is growing at the foot of the bed.And again, I’m surprised.Until now, I would have guessed she was the type to always put everything away neatly.
I like this side of her even more.
It makes me realize all the sides of Ava that I haven’t yet seen.And I want to explore every one of them.
My mouth meets hers, and the feel of her flesh against me as I kiss her upends me.The work day seemed longer than ever, knowing that I might get to do this again with her tonight after caroling.
I wasn’t honestly sure she’d want to.I’m not really sure of anything where Ava is concerned, always feeling like I’m embarking on uncharted territory.
I’m not her type, and I know it.And if I ever needed verification of that, I only needed to go caroling with a bunch of my firmly rooted neighbors and see just how much I don’t fit into this post-kid crowd.
But right now, as my kisses move from her mouth to her neck to her collarbone, and I enjoy the delicious purr I hear form in her chest, I’d really like to fit in for as long as she’d let me.
I unzip her jeans and then lift her up, placing her gently on her bed.Her body sinks into the layers upon layers of fluffy softness.I pull her jeans off of her and my eyes are met with the sight of lace panties that match her bra.Again, they’re the panty equivalent of a generous helping of practicality with a side of frivolity.
I pull off my own jeans, taking a split second to first pull a condom out of my pocket.
She grins.“Well, now, clearly you assumed that caroling events always end in the bedroom.”
“I didn’t assume.I just hoped.”I set it aside.I’m so ready to take her right now, but I don’t want to rush this.
So I don’t—taking my time to pay my respects to every glorious swath of skin as it is revealed to me.First, that soft, pale skin just at the top of the lace on her bra, then her breast itself, moving the small mound with my mouth, my tongue, my hands.
It’s easy to take my time in a bed like this—a bed we’re positively sinking into.And now I realize why women must think a soft, fluffy bed is the epitome of romance.
It’s because foreplay tends to take a long time in it.
I’m not complaining, though.I’m soaking up the sight of her, her brown hair spanning across the pillows, making her look like a goddess.I’m loving the way her body moves beneath me, the way her breath catches slightly when I take a nipple into my mouth, the way her pelvis arches, seeming to beg for attention.
My hand moves there and I touch her gently, just a hint of pressure first, enjoying the silent demand I see in her eyes—a request for more.
Then I give her what she wants, sliding my fingertips beneath her panties and watching her as she comes, pressing up against my palm as my fingers explore her in the way I know will make the sensation last for her.