Same Time, Next Christmas (The Bravos 0f Valentine Bay Book 3) Page 9

  “Zoya.”

  “I like it. Is it Polish, or...?”

  “Russian.” He gave a shrug. “She’s a Siberian husky. It seemed to fit.”

  “Is it okay if I introduce myself?”

  “Sure.”

  She clicked her tongue and called the dog.

  When Zoya hesitated, he encouraged her. “It’s all right, girl. Go.” And she went, tail wagging, hopping down the steps to greet the woman Matt couldn’t wait to kiss.

  He followed the husky down to the ground and gave the woman and the dog a minute to get to know each other. By the time Sabra rose from giving Zoya the attention she craved, he couldn’t wait any longer.

  He caught her arm, heat zapping through him just to have his hand on her, even with the thick sweater keeping him from getting skin to skin. “Hey.”

  “Hey.”

  “I’m really glad to see you.” It came out in a low growl.

  She giggled, the cutest, happiest little sound. “Prove it.”

  “Excellent suggestion.” He pulled her in close, wrapping both arms around her. And then he kissed her.

  Zap. Like an electric charge flashing from her lips to his. Her mouth tasted better than he remembered, which couldn’t be possible. Could it? He framed her face with his two hands and kissed her some more.

  It wasn’t enough. He needed her inside, up the stairs, out of her clothes...

  She let out a little cry as he broke the kiss—but only to get one arm beneath her knees. With the other at her back, he scooped her high against his chest.

  “I’m taking you inside,” he announced.

  “Yes,” she replied, right before he crashed his mouth down on hers again.

  He groaned in pure happiness, breathing in the scent of her, so fresh, with a hint of oranges, probably from her shampoo. Whatever. She smelled amazing. She smelled like everything he’d been longing for, everything he’d feared he would never touch or smell or taste again.

  Kissing her as he went, he strode up the steps, across the porch and on inside, pausing only to wait for Zoya to come in after them before kicking the door shut with his foot.

  Sabra broke the kiss to look around, her hands clasped behind his neck, fingers stroking his nape like she couldn’t get enough of the feel of his skin. “The tree looks so good, even better than last year. And it smells like heaven.” She pressed her nose against his throat. “It smells like you...”

  “We’ll decorate it,” he said gruffly when she tipped her head away enough to meet his eyes again. “Later.” He nuzzled her cool, velvety cheek, brushed a couple of quick kisses across her lips.

  “You’re so handsome. So big. So...” She laughed, a carefree sort of sound. “I am so glad to see you.”

  “Likewise, only double that—wait. Make that quintuple.”

  She stroked a hand at his temple, combing her fingers back into his hair. “I have stuff to bring in.”

  “Later.” Zoya stood on her three legs looking up at them, tipping her head from side to side, not quite sure what the hell was going on. “Stay,” he commanded, as he headed for the stairs.

  “Your leg seems better.”

  “Good as new.”

  “I can walk, you know,” she chided.

  “Yeah. But I don’t know if I can let go of you.” He took her mouth again. Desire sparked and sizzled through his veins. Already, he was so hard it hurt.

  “I’ve missed you, too,” she whispered into the kiss.

  “Not as much as I’ve missed you.” He took the stairs two at a time and carried her straight to the bed, setting her down on it, grabbing the hem of her big sweater. “I like this sweater.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Let’s get it off you.” He pulled it up.

  She raised her arms and he took it away, tossing it in the general direction of a nearby chair. She dropped back on her hands. He drank in the sight of her, in her skinny jeans and a lacy red bra, the kind a woman wears when a man might be likely to see it, to take it off her.

  “So pretty.” He eased his index finger between one silky strap and her skin and rubbed it up and down, from the slight swell of her breast to her shoulder and back again. Happiness filled him, bright and hot, to go with the pleasure-pain of his powerful desire. He bent closer, right over her, planting both fists on the mattress to either side of her. “I have an idea.”

  Her eyes went wide. “Yeah?”

  “Let’s get everything off you. Let’s do that now.”

  A slow smile was her answer.

  He dropped to his knees at her feet and untied her boots, pulling them off and her snowflake-patterned socks right after them. She shoved down her jeans. He dragged them free and tossed them aside.

  In her red bra and a lacy little thong to match, she reached for him, pulling him up beside her—and then slipping over the edge of the bed to kneel and get to work on his boots.

  He helped her, bending down and untying one as she untied the other. They paused only long enough to share a quick, rough kiss and in no time, he was out of his boots and socks. The rest of his clothes followed quickly. He ripped them off as she climbed back on the bed and sat on folded knees.

  Resting her long-fingered hands on her smooth thighs, breathing fast, she stared at him through eyes gone black with longing. Reaching behind her, she started to unclasp her bra.

  “No.” He bent across the bed to still her arms. “Let me do that.” Or not. He allowed himself a slow smile. “And on second thought, this bra and that thong might be too pretty to take off.”

  She caught the corner of her mouth with her teeth, her eyes promising him everything as she brought her hands to rest on her thighs again.

  He took her by the wrists and tugged. She knelt up. Scooping an arm around her, he hauled her to the edge of the bed and tight against him. “It’s been too long,” he muttered, dipping his head to kiss that sweet spot where her neck met her shoulder.

  The scent of her filled him—oranges, flowers, that beautiful sweetness, the essence of her, going musky now with her arousal.

  He kissed her, another deep one, running his tongue over hers, gliding it against the ridges of her pretty teeth.

  So many perfect places to put his mouth.

  He got to work on that, leaving her lips with some reluctance, but consoling himself with the taste of her skin, licking the clean, gorgeous line of her jaw, moving on down to bite the tight flesh over her collarbone. She moaned when he did that and tried to pull him closer. He resisted. He had plans of his own.

  Slowly, he lowered her bra straps with his teeth, using a finger to ease the lacy cups of the bra under her breasts so he could kiss those pretty, puckered nipples. She looked so amazing, with her face flushed, her eyes enormous, pure black, hazy with need, and her breasts overflowing the cups of that red bra.

  He backed up again. When she moaned in protest and grabbed for him, he commanded, “Stretch out your legs.”

  She scooted back to the middle of the bed and stuck her feet out in front of her. “Like this?”

  “Just like that.” He grabbed her ankles and pulled. With a surprised laugh, she braced her hands behind her as he hauled her to the edge of the bed again.

  “Lie back,” he instructed as he went to his knees, pushing her smooth thighs apart to get in close and tight.

  As he kissed her through the lace of that teeny-tiny thong, she moaned and fisted her fingers in his hair. “Matthias, please!” He glanced up at her sharp cry. “It’s been a year. Come up here, right now. Come here to me.”

  He couldn’t argue—didn’t want to argue. He needed to be joined with her. He needed that right now.

  And the gorgeous, soaking-wet thong? In the way.

  He hooked his fingers in at both sides of it, pulled it down and tossed it halfway across the room. She undid the pretty br
a and dropped it to the floor as he rose to yank open the bedside drawer. He had the condom out and on in record time.

  “Come down here.” She grabbed hold of his arm and pulled him on top of her, opening for him, wrapping those strong legs around him. Holding him hard and tight with one arm, she wriggled the other between them, took him in hand and guided him right to where they both wanted him.

  “At last,” she whispered, pushing her beautiful body up hard against him, wrapping her legs around him even tighter than before.

  He was wild for her, too. With a surge of his hips, he was deep inside.

  She cried out as he filled her.

  “Too fast?” He groaned the words. “Did I hurt you?”

  “No way.” She grabbed on with both hands, yanking him in even tighter. “Oh, I have missed you.”

  “Missed you, too,” he echoed. “So much...”

  And he lost himself in her. There was only Sabra, the feel of her beautiful body around him, taking him deep.

  They rolled and she was above him. That was so right, just what he needed—until they were rolling again, sharing a laugh that turned into rough moans as they arrived on their sides, facing each other, her leg thrown across him, pulling him so close. She urged him on with her eager cries.

  He didn’t want it to end. She pulled him on top again. Somehow, he held out through her first climax, gritting his teeth a little, groaning at the splendid agony of it as she pulsed around him. It was like nothing else, ever—to feel her giving way, giving it up, losing herself in his arms.

  When she went limp beneath him, he sank into her, kissing her, stroking her tangled hair, waiting for the moment when she began to move again.

  He didn’t have to wait long.

  Hooking her legs around him once more, she surged up against him. With a deep groan, he joined her in the rhythm she set as she chased her second finish all the way to the top and over into free fall.

  That time, he gave it up, too, driving deep within her as the pleasure rolled through him, rocketing down his spine, opening him up and sending him soaring.

  Leaving him breathless, stunned—and deeply happy in a way he couldn’t remember ever being before.

  * * *

  By the time Matthias let her out of bed an hour later, Sabra was starving.

  Luckily, she’d brought fresh sourdough bread and a variety of sandwich fixings. They carried the food in from the Subaru and she made sandwiches while he unloaded the rest of her things.

  Once they’d filled their growling bellies, he put on the Christmas tunes and they decorated the tree—working together this year, which meant the whole process was a whole lot more fun and took half the time it had the year before.

  She’d brought ornaments. “You need at least one new ornament every year,” she explained.

  “I do?” He got that look guys get when women tell them how it ought to be, that Huh? kind of look that said women’s logic really didn’t compute.

  “I brought three.” She grabbed her pack from its hook on the far side of the door and pulled them out, each in its own small box. “Open them.”

  He obeyed, taking them from the boxes and hanging them on the tree. They included a porcupine carved from a pinecone, a crystal snowflake—and a blown glass pickle.

  “Each has an important sentimental meaning...” She let the words trail off significantly.

  He was up for the game. “Let me guess. The porcupine because I gave you one last year. And the snowflake to remind me that being snowed in can be the best time a guy ever had—he just needs to be snowed in with you.”

  She nodded approvingly. “What about the pickle?”

  He turned to study the ornament in question, which he’d hung on a high branch. It was nubby and dark green, dusted with glitter, twinkling in the light. “It’s a very handsome pickle, I have to say.”

  “You’re stalling.”

  “Hmm.” He pretended to be deep in thought over the possible significance of a pickle.

  She scoffed at him. “You haven’t got a clue.”

  “Wait.” He put up a hand. “It’s all coming back to me now.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “Didn’t I read somewhere that you hide a pickle ornament on the tree and the kid who finds it gets something special? Also, I think I remember hearing that pickle ornaments bring good luck.”

  “You’re actually smirking,” she accused.

  “Me? No way. I never smirk.”

  “You knew all along.”

  He caught her hand and pulled her in close. “Do you think I’ll get lucky?” He kissed her. “Never mind. I already have.”

  “Oh, yeah,” she answered softly. “Pickle or no pickle, from now until New Year’s, I’m your sure thing.”

  Later, they had hot chocolate on the front porch, with Zoya stretched out at their feet and gnawing enthusiastically on a rawhide bone.

  Sabra had barely emptied her mug and set it down on the porch beside her chair when Matthias held out his hand to her.

  The second she laid her fingers in his, he was pulling her up and out of the chair, over onto his lap.

  Things got steamy fast. In no time, she was topless, with her pants undone.

  She loved every minute of it, out there in the cold December night, with the hottest man she’d ever met to keep her toasty warm.

  * * *

  The next morning, he snuck down the stairs while she was still drowsing. When she followed the smell of fresh coffee down to the main floor, he didn’t say a word until she’d savored that first cup.

  “I have a Christmas Eve request,” she said over breakfast.

  He rose from his chair to bend close and kiss her, a kiss that tasted of coffee and cinnamon rolls and the promise of more kisses to come. “Anything. Name it.”

  “I want to finish the hike to the falls that I started last year.”

  He sank back to his chair. “It’s rough going. Lots of brush and then several stretches over heavily logged country, where it’s nothing but dirt and giant tree stumps, most of them out of the ground, gnarly with huge roots.”

  She gave him her sweetest smile. “You said ‘anything.’ And I still want to go.”

  They set out half an hour later.

  Matthias kept Zoya on a leash most of the way. They wound through barren stretches of rough, logged terrain, eventually entering the forest again, where the trail was so completely overgrown, it grew difficult to make out the path.

  They bushwhacked their way through it. At one point, Sabra turned to look back for no particular reason—and saw snowcapped Mt. Rainier in the distance. She got out her phone and snapped a picture of it.

  They went on to the top of the falls. It wasn’t much to look at. The trees grew close and bushy, obscuring the view. They drank from their water bottles and he poured some into a collapsible bowl for Zoya.

  “It’s beautiful from below.” He pointed into the steep canyon. “I mean, if you’re up for beating your way down through the bushes.”

  “Yes!” She said it with feeling, to bolster her own flagging enthusiasm for the task. The overcast sky seemed to be getting darker. “No rain in the forecast, right?”

  He gave her his smug look. “Or so all the weather services have predicted.”

  “We should get back, huh?”

  He pretended to consider her question. “I thought you wanted to get a good view of the falls.”

  She leaned his way and bumped him with her shoulder. “That sounds like a challenge.”

  He gave a lazy shrug. “It’s no problem if you think it’s too much for you.”

  She popped the plug back into her water bottle. “That does it. We are going down.”

  And down they went.

  Zoya was amazing, effortlessly balanced on only three legs. She bounced along through
the underbrush, never flagging. Sabra and Matthias had a little more difficulty, but they kept after it—and were rewarded at the bottom by the gorgeous sight of the tumbling white water from down below.

  “Worth it?” he asked.

  “Definitely.” She got a bunch of pictures on her phone.

  “Come here.” He hooked his giant arm around her waist and hauled her close, claiming her lips in a long, deliciously dizzying kiss. She got lost in that kiss—lost in him, in Matthias, in the miracle of this thing between them that was still so compelling after a whole year apart.

  Twice in her life, she’d almost said I do, but she’d never felt anything like this before. She loved just being with him, making love for hours, laughing together, sharing the most basic, simple pleasures, the two of them and Zoya, in a one-room cabin.

  Or out in the wild at the foot of a waterfall.

  A drop of rain plopped on her forehead. Then another, then a whole bunch of them.

  It was like someone up there had turned on a faucet. The sky just opened wide and the water poured down.

  They both tipped their faces up to it, laughing.

  “Why am I not the least bit surprised?” she asked.

  He kissed her again, quick and hard, as the water ran down her face and trickled between their fused lips.

  “Come on.” He pulled up her hood and snapped the closure at her throat. “Let’s find shelter. We can wait out the worst of it.”

  “What shelter?” She scoffed at him. “I haven’t seen any shelter.”

  “Follow me.” He pulled up his own hood. “Zoya, heel.” He set off, the dog looping immediately into position on his left side. “Good girl.” He pulled a treat from his pocket. Zoya took it from his hand as he started back up the hillside. Sabra fell in behind them.

  When they got to the trail, it was still coming down, every bit as thick and hard as the day they’d met. They set off back the way they’d come. She had waterproof gear this time, so most of her stayed dry. It could have been worse.

  About a mile or so later, Matthias veered from the path they’d taken originally. The brush grew denser and the rain came down harder, if that was even possible.