You Had Me At Christmas: A Holiday Anthology(82)

Her business done, she flipped the light off and snuck back out of the bathroom. Enough light streamed through the window that she could make out Marc’s sleeping form. He was sleeping in a T-shirt and his boxers, a far cry from last night when they’d both been sleeping in as many layers as they’d been able to put on.

He was handsome and kind, and as soon as she found a place to live, she’d never see him again. The realization made her sad . . . and lonely. It would be nice to have someone she was more than Facebook acquaintances with in Salt Lake. More importantly, it would have been nice to continue to know Marc. Maybe they could exchange e-mails after he returned to Seattle after his adventures. Or wherever it was he was going to go next.

Or maybe when he dropped her off at wherever she was going to be, that would be the end of this. If she wanted anything more to happen with him than that kiss she could still feel on her lips, she would need to act now.

Before she’d realized what she was even considering, she was sitting on the edge of his bed and had placed her hand on his shoulder.

Marc stirred, then murmured a soft, “Hmm?”

“I couldn’t sleep. Can I get in bed with you?”

“Hmm?” he muttered again. “Oh . . . yes, uh, of course.” He scooted over, taking most of the sheets and blankets with him. But then he shifted around, reaching around behind him and lifting the covers and sheets off himself. He gave them a good yank so that she had covers now, too, as well as space in the bed and someone to cuddle with.

When she got in bed, she rolled over to her side, and he curled up around her like they had been navigating sharing a bed for years. His hand rested on her stomach as they spooned. The light touch stirred desire deep in her belly, want tingling between her legs.

And curiosity.

She knew how Marc’s lips felt under hers, but how would his chest feel as she rubbed her hands against it? And how would he feel when poised above her, about to enter her?

She rolled over so that they were facing each other. He woke enough to shift so that their legs were intertwined. He was semihard against her leg.

Does he have a condom? The thought flitted through her mind before she leaned forward and kissed him.

He responded immediately, pressing his lips against hers and weaving his hands around her head and threading them through her hair, holding her tightly against him. She rocked closer to him. Feeling him hard against her leg wasn’t enough. Feeling his hands in her hair and his lips on hers wasn’t enough. She wanted more.

She shoved her hands under the waistband of his boxers, digging her fingernails into his perfect butt and pulling him closer to her.

In an instant, he had flipped her onto her back and climbed on top of her, fitting himself between her legs. His hard length, covered by the thin cotton of his boxers, was pressed against her. “Oh, Selina, you feel so good,” he groaned as he rocked against her.

She yanked up his shirt, tugging at it trying to get it off. His arms got caught in the sleeves as they both struggled for a moment to pull it over his head. While he was still propped up on his arms, she skimmed her palms over his now-bare chest. His soft chest hair tickled. He sighed, relaxing into her. Then, with a low growl of frustration and desire, he pulled at her shirt, and they had another moment of struggle to get her T-shirt off. This time, they bumped heads and giggled.

“Do you have a condom?” she whispered as soon as his hands hit the elastic of her pajama shorts.

“Hmm?” he murmured, nibbling at her neck. “Oh! Yes. Don’t move.”

“What if I move to take off my shorts?” she asked with a wiggle of her hips.

He smiled, then kissed her neck, her ears, and finally her lips. “I suppose that’s okay,” he teased.

He lifted off her and swung off the bed. As he stood by the side of the bed, she admired the shape of his body, the dark shadows of him backlit by streetlights.

From this moment on, she would recognize his body anywhere. The smell and feel of him was etched in her memory. Her body would recognize him. She could feel him in her skin, in her muscles, and in her bones. In her marrow.

She heard his suitcase unzip. He rustled through clothes and then unzipped another pocket. As he returned, he was ripping at the foil packet. Her hips pushed forward and up, wanting him. She was impatient by the time he was standing next to the bed. Their hands intertwined and their bodies writhed and bumped as he tried to put the condom on while she tried to pull off his boxers. Desire deepened the sounds of his chuckles, and her giggles sped into moans.

Suddenly his shorts were off and the condom was on. He was on top of and then inside her. They both sighed, shifting and undulating until he was deep inside her.

She couldn’t touch as much of him as she needed, but she tried. Kisses met shoulders and arms and necks and ears and cheeks. Hands explored backs and butts and rubbed against chests, fingers digging in to skin as their breathing grew more labored and faster until they both cried out at once.

Selina lifted up her hips as Marc bucked several times, groaning with satisfaction until he nearly collapsed on top of her, his arms stopping his fall only once he was a breath away from her.

“Hi,” she said, suddenly a bit shy and weary from the force of her orgasm.

“Hi.” His kiss on her jaw shook the shy feeling away, and she kissed him back.

“I’ll be right back,” he said as he climbed off her.