Angel's Rest(46)

Maybe Gabe wasn’t as upset as she and Celeste had expected.

Nic retrieved the wrapped gift she’d brought him—one of Sarah’s Black Forest cakes—and made her way up the front steps. She rang the doorbell and waited.

The door swung open. A handful of seconds dragged by like hours as Gabe stood watching her and not speaking. He looked … disturbed. Finally he took a step back, gestured for her to enter, then shut the door behind her, all without saying a word.

Nic gazed around the great room, and her hackles went up. A hidden stereo played instrumental carols. Lights blinked and bubbled on a ten-foot-tall spruce standing before the wall of windows. Flames danced and logs crackled in the huge stone hearth on the back wall of the great room, and from its mantel hung a pair of stockings. Nic read the names. Mom. Matt.

Something hard and brittle glittered in Gabe Callahan’s eyes. He had a drink in his hand and danger oozed from his pores.

Suddenly Nic felt more like Red Riding Hood than one of Santa’s elves. She licked her dry lips, then held out the package. “Merry Christmas.”

When he didn’t move to take the gift, she set it down on the table beside the door and waited.

A muscle jerked at his temple. Finally, just when she thought he’d never speak, he asked, “Why are you here?”

She smelled the alcohol on his breath. She opened her mouth intending to invite him to Christmas Eve services, but as their gazes caught and held, different words emerged. “I didn’t want you to be alone,” she told him. “I don’t want to be alone. It’s Christmas.”

“Christmas,” he repeated after a long moment, the word sounding like a curse on his lips. His gaze never left hers as he tossed back the rest of his drink, then set the empty glass on top of the package she’d brought. “What Christmas is, woman, is hell.”

He moved toward her and she instinctively backed away until the door was at her back. His voice sounded low and gruff and a little slurred as he added, “And I’m feeling like the damned devil himself.”

Then he kissed her.

His mouth was hot and savage, and Nic’s senses reeled. Part of her was frightened. He was bigger than her, stronger than her. They were alone, miles away from anyone, and Gabe Callahan could do whatever he wanted with her. She was totally at his mercy.

Except she wasn’t afraid. She was … excited.

This was the man who’d rescued a wounded dog from a bear trap. The man who’d put himself at risk to save two boys from a fire. The man who had warmed her feet against his bare stomach.

He would not hurt her. He was missing his family and he needed a human connection. He needed her.

So Nic kissed him back. Her hands moved to his shoulders, and she met his thrusting tongue with her own. He tasted of whiskey and loneliness, of anguish and despair. He was another wounded animal, and in this moment, if only for a moment, she had the power to soothe his pain.

His hands gripped her waist, and he lifted her off the floor and back against the door, pressing his body against hers and holding her aloft.

His kiss was carnal and hungry, and when he finally released her mouth, it was to feast at her neck. She felt the scrape of his teeth against her skin, and skitters of pleasure assaulted her. Nic arched her neck, gasped for breath, closed her eyes, and gave herself up to the magic he made.

She needed this, too. She needed to be needed. Greg’s betrayal had damaged her, and she wanted to feel wanted again.

Gabe’s hand cupped her breast, kneading and squeezing, almost too hard, but not quite.

She slipped a little and he yanked her back up, pressing his hips hard against her. His erection felt like steel. His fingers curled around the placket of her oxford shirt and he yanked, sending buttons flying. He ripped her bra, exposing her breast. He lifted it, took her into his mouth, and sucked her hard.

She shuddered. She wrapped her legs around him, wrapped her arms around him, and held on for dear life. Nic moaned, long and low in her throat. He answered with a growl.

At some point they slid to the floor and lay atop the braided rug that decorated the entry. At some point he stripped them both naked. Cold rose from the floor beneath her. Heat radiated from the man rising above her. When he plunged into her, Nic was on fire.

He took her fast and hard and rough, his hips pumping, his breathing harsh. Tension built within her as she watched him, wild, angry animal that he was. Eyes closed, he threw back his head, cords of muscle in his neck, shoulders, and arms standing out in hard relief as he drove himself into her, again and again and again.