The Man I Love (The Fish Tales, #1)(73)

Yuletide Carol


Without fail, the Biancos always cut down their Christmas tree the day after Thanksgiving.

Snow was in the forecast. Already a cold snap had moved in with a nasty wind chill. Daisy decided to bail. Being outdoors on such a day would make her leg miserable. If she weren’t going, Erik didn’t want to either. Francine, with a mysterious expression, said she had errands to run. Everyone else bundled up, piled into Joe’s truck and headed out. The tree farm was by Sadsbury, which meant they’d be driving through the infamous village of Intercourse. David was beside himself and Joe promised to pull over by the signpost so a picture could be taken.

Daisy went into the kitchen to wash up the lunch dishes. Erik sidled up behind her, slid his arms around her waist, hugging her.

“You’re such a mush,” she said, rubbing her cheek on his head.

“I am,” he said. He moved her hair, kissed her neck, hugged her against him again. He was only having a moment, wanting to hold her, but then Daisy started unbuttoning her shirt. She tilted her head, giving him more of her neck, her fingers finishing the last button and parting the lapels. He slid his palms over her soft skin, unhooking her bra. She turned in his arms and they kissed, groaning open-mouthed with their hands everywhere, seizing it.

She unbuckled and unzipped him, put a hand down his pants. Those strangely disconnected wires came together with a sizzle and he was hard, closed up tight in her fist and wanting. His fingers yanked her jeans open, slid deep and found she was wet, spreading for him, ready.

They kissed and clutched, writhing in a fevered celebration. It hadn’t been this way in a long time. This was good. Possibly this could be great.

Holding their clothes together, they ran through the cold to the carriage house. The little rooms were frigid, so they went into the shower and steamed the hell out of the place. Erik’s hands ran in soapy strokes all over Daisy’s body, with its new weight and the hard curves under wet, silken skin. Within the grappling passion they were relaxed, completely turned on, turned further and further into each other. They were themselves again. Finally.

Erik picked her up, pressed her up against the tiles, her butt resting on the soap ledge and her toes braced on the other wall. He pinned her high so he could lick her breasts. He moved in her. Out of her. Water and desire crashing on his skin. Perfect.

“Oh God, that’s good,” Daisy said. A little hitch in her voice as he thrust deeper. She held his wet head, turned his face this way and that as she kissed him. She touched his mouth and he sucked on her fingertips.

“You’re so tight,” he whispered.

“It’s so good.” The air was falling out of her voice. She was going somewhere. He could feel it. Her eyes were filled with green.

“Come,” he said against her mouth. “I want to see you come.”

“I feel you,” she whispered. “I can feel you again.”

He was pure grace. A master of her body again. It was like throwing a line out, feeling the hook catch the edge of her climax and reeling it in. Poised on the lip of his own desire, he pushed further into her as he slowly wound the line tighter. Listening for it, feeling for it, waiting for her edge to touch his. It was almost there. Just right there.

“Erik…”

“Come, Dais. Come to me.”

Through her mouth like a distant wind blew the sweet sound of no sound. Usually Erik jumped, following it. Now he just let their joined edges crumble away from his feet, let himself dissolve and come with an exquisite slowness. Hard and loud he moaned into her neck as she clung to his shoulders, riding out the tremors.

“Jesus,” he said between the aftershocks.

Her fingers dug deep in his wet hair and she kissed him, laughing deep in her throat. “Now that was us.”

“Totally us.” His arms were spent and he set her down. She took the bar of soap and started working a lather over his body, her hands warm and slippery along his chest and stomach and limbs. He soaped her, then, and they wound arms around each other, sliding and kissing, sending tiny iridescent bubbles through the damp air.

“Now I don’t feel bad missing the trip to Intercourse,” Erik said as they dried off. Daisy laughed and popped him with the towel.

Sleepy and sated, they peeled open the covers of their bed and slid in. They lay on their sides, Daisy up against Erik’s back, her hand on his chest.

“Oh, look,” she said. Outside the window, it had started to snow, little icy flakes like glitter, not yet sticking.

Perfect peace. No anxiety. Not a wolf in sight. Pressed tight between Daisy’s body and the palm of her hand, Erik felt his bones melt away. A sweet sleep, sweeter than he’d known in months, began to creep over the crown of his head. It laid soothing fingers on his eyes, wove a gorgeous warmth through his muscles.

This, was his last wakeful thought. This moment. Right here.

Right now.

This is my life.



*



They napped a long time. Everyone zonked out in the snowy afternoon, and eventually wandered back into the kitchen for another laughing, boozy dinner.

“Can’t we just stay here,” Lucky said yet again. She sighed happily, tucked in Will’s arms and peeling one of the little clementine oranges from a bowl on the table. His chin rested on her shoulder as he ate the sections she fed him.