Marry Me at Christmas (Fool's Gold #19)(49)

When he brushed his tongue against her bottom lip, she parted right away. He eased inside. At the first stroke of his tongue against hers, flames ignited all over her body. Even though she was sitting, her thighs began to tremble. Wanting grew. She thought about how alone they were and how incredibly comfortable the sofa was. She thought about the fact that it was practically Christmas and she hadn’t bought herself a single thing. Could one magical night with this man be her gift from her to her?

He deepened the kiss. She tangled with him, liking the way they found a rhythm that set her blood to bubbling. He slipped one hand from her back to her side. From there it went up and up and—

He drew back. “I’m sorry.”

She managed to blink.

He stood up and walked to the other side of the room. “Madeline, I’m sorry. I gave you my word. I promised nothing would happen. That you were safe here. It’s just...” He swore under his breath.

She didn’t catch the exact words, but she got the general idea. Far more interesting was the, um, proof that she hadn’t been the only one affected by what they’d been doing.

She told herself to look away, that it was rude to stare at a man’s erection. But she couldn’t help herself. Because she liked him and knowing he liked her back was really cool. Plus, the bulge was impressive.

“You’re not listening,” he said.

She returned her attention to his face. And while it was a very nice face, the hard-on was far more intriguing right now.

“Madeline, this is serious. I said nothing would happen.”

“Last night,” she blurted. “You said nothing would happen last night. And it didn’t.” She had the chagrined heart to prove it.

“You’re not mad?”

“Why would I be mad? Do women generally get mad when you make out with them? Because if they are mad, you’re doing something wrong.” From where she was sitting, he’d been doing everything right.

Something flashed in his eyes. She had no idea what it was, but hoped it was understanding. Or uncontrollable lust. The latter would be her first choice.

He took a step toward her, then paused. “I like you.”

Words to make her quiver. “I like you, too.”

“You’re stuck here because of the storm. I don’t want you to feel pressured. Or obligated. I don’t want you to think this is some kind of movie scene.”

Understanding dawned as she finally got what he’d been unable to say, perhaps even understand himself on anything but the instinctual level. He was a famous movie star. Because of that, women did things, offered things, they never would in their normal life. They didn’t want to be with him, they were interested in the star. He was simply a means to an end.

Because of that, he would never want to put anyone in the position of having to perform. Because that was expected of him.

She thought about all the people he’d loved and lost. His mother, his first girlfriend, his father. Then she tried to imagine what it would be like to be so famous that women he’d never met would desperately want to sleep with him so they could say they had. No wonder he was wary of getting involved. No wonder he was fiercely protective of his privacy.

He liked her. He’d said it. They were friends. He saw her as a person and knew she saw him the same way. Even more significant, he was protective of her.

The thoughts flashed through her mind in a single heartbeat, then she was moving toward him. When she stood in front of him, she took both his hands in hers and smiled at him.

“I think the movie thing is really great, and I’ll admit when we first met I was totally starstruck.”

He watched her without speaking.

“But that went away pretty fast,” she continued. “I like how you care about your sister and that you flashed your butt at Eddie and Gladys.”

One corner of his mouth turned up. “Did you really mean to put those in the same sentence?”

“No, but go with it.” She looked into his eyes. “You helped me with Ted. You make toys for kids and you have terrible taste in wedding cakes. I don’t feel trapped or pressured and I know this isn’t a movie scene.”

She wanted to mention the erection, but wasn’t sure he would get how cool that was.

“I want you,” he murmured.

Oh, my. She felt both weak and incredibly strong. Hunger burned, but also an unexpected tenderness.

“Then I think you should have me.”

The smile returned. “Yeah?”

Before she could answer, he’d pulled her close and pressed his mouth to hers.

ELEVEN

MADELINE WOKE UP with a warm arm draped around her waist and the glow of a clock telling her it was 5:01. She stared at the small numbers as if studying them would convince her it had all really happened. She’d spent the night with Jonny.

A happy scream built up inside. She did her best to suppress it. The man was probably exhausted. She was, too, but also excited and nervous and confused.

Being with him had been magical. He’d been a caring, considerate lover with more concern for her pleasure than his own. They’d made love, then eaten dinner, then had made love again. When they’d finished the second time, he’d pulled her close, as if he’d expected she would stay in his bed. So she had. Which explained why she found herself there at 5:02 in the morning.