Unwrapping Santa Read online

  “I wasn't sure you'd come,” she said. How had he never noticed before how soft and husky her voice was? Her hair was glossy as though she'd just brushed it and she smelled good, spicy and floral at the same time.

  “I haven't turned down a dare since David Wilkerson bet me his Hot Wheels set I couldn't Rollerblade backward down the hill behind our house.”

  “Did you end up with his Hot Wheels?” She was gazing around the room, the flowers still clutched in her hand, and he realized she was looking for something to put them in.

  With a shrug she picked up the ice bucket and headed for the bathroom.

  “I ended up with a broken arm,” he said to her back. Nice back. Filled out a silk kimono just right.

  While she put water in the ice bucket and arranged the flowers, he crossed to the minibar and found a couple of wineglasses. He wondered how they were going to pull this off. Being polite to each other was a new experience and a pall of awkwardness cloaked the proceedings.

  Well, he figured a woman wearing a silk robe intended to be eased out of it. He'd give them each the time it took to drink a glass of champagne and then he'd oblige her.

  Truth was, he'd never received a present that he wanted to unwrap as much as his surprising secret Santa gift.

  He eased the cork out of the bottle so it hiccupped rather than popped, and poured.

  * * *

  Tara was going to book herself into therapy first thing tomorrow. What had she been thinking?

  All these months she'd sensed a potent animal attraction between them, but now Daniel was here in a hotel room with her, she had to wonder if she'd simply confused the crackle of anger with the sizzle of lust.

  Now that they weren't exchanging insults, she didn't want to jump him. She wanted to transport herself to her own living room couch, with a cup of hot chocolate, her fuzzy bunny slippers and a chick flick.

  Instead, through her impetuous temper, she'd trapped them both into this horribly embarrassing situation.

  She should have demanded an apology when she overheard his crude words. That's what the sane woman would have done, but she'd blurted out that crazy dare, and then had been so intrigued by the idea she'd followed it through. All the way here.

  They sat by the window in the two armchairs flanking a rectangular table in some kind of dark wood. The roses graced the table. She'd offered to turf them so he could put the champagne on ice, but he'd tossed out all the soda from the minibar and managed to wedge the champagne bottle in there.

  By craning her neck over her shoulder, she could look out the window at the lights of Seattle and the dark smudge of Puget Sound . If she sat normally, her view was of the king-size bed that dominated the room.

  She sipped, wondering if politeness would take all the sizzle out of their relationship. Wondering if she should go ahead and admit this had been a stupid idea and let them both off the hook.

  She sipped again, and took the time to savor the taste of champagne. Her favorite. Her gaze moved to the roses, looking elegant but casual in their ice-bucket vase. “You shouldn't have spent all that money,” she said.

  “Don't worry. I plan to sneak it into my expense account. Under miscellaneous.”

  Her ire sparked instantly, making her blood crackle like the champagne. She jerked her gaze to his, ready to really let him have it, then caught his expression and realized he was teasing. “Don't even think about it,” she said, trying not to smile.

  “What about the hotel room? I could put it on my corporate card. We get a special rate.”

  Impossible to believe that he was joking about the subject that usually had them at each other's throats.

  She laughed, feeling a little of that sizzle make its way to her erogenous zones.

  Then her laugh died in her throat.

  Daniel rose and stepped in front of her. Frozen, she watched as though from outside her body as he reached for her drink, took it from her and placed it on the table. Then he took her hands and drew her to her feet.

  His hands were warm and sure while hers suddenly felt cold and shaky.

  Ohhhh. This was probably a terrible idea. If sex with Daniel was a monumental disaster and then she had to face him every day—well, this had been her ill-advised idea. She'd have to go get another job, that's all.

  Daniel didn't seem to be sharing her doubts. He looked supremely confident. Keeping his gaze on hers, he let his fingertips travel over her palms to the soft, sensitive skin of her inner wrists under her silk robe. It was just a whisper of a touch, with both of them still clothed, yet it felt intimate and shiveringly arousing.

  His lips came closer, brushed hers slowly, and, as her eyes fluttered closed, she knew monumental disaster was not going to be an issue.

  Chapter Three

  He deepened the kiss and she felt as though she had to hang on to him or risk slipping bonelessly to the pale green carpet.

  Leaving her mouth, he kissed her jaw, found the sweet spot just behind her ear and made her gasp when he flicked his tongue, then kissed his way down her throat.

  “You smell good,” he said, his words rumbling against her skin.

  She'd arrived at five-thirty, making sure she had time to bathe, pluck, shave, buff and scent herself. She didn't consider herself any more vain than the next woman, but she'd also dimmed the lights near the bed, so as to show herself—if it came to that—in the most flattering light.

  “It's my body lotion.” She sighed, tipping her chin to give him greater access, wondering how she'd ever exchanged an angry word with a man who could do this with his mouth. “It's imported from France.”

  Well, in the most intelligent remarks of her life, that one was going to go down as a list topper. While his mouth was busy with her throat, his hands moved slowly up her arms to her shoulders, then traced the V of her silk gown.

  Her skin seemed to pulse with warmth where he touched her. He didn't pull the lapels apart but seemed content to discover her body's contours by touch rather than sight.

  Fine by her.

  His fingers traced the opening of her robe to where it crossed, and continued to the loose knot at her waist. Instead of undoing the sash, he took his hands back up her sides and feathered them across her breasts. She could barely keep still. The feel of silk sliding against her naked skin and the warmth of his hands through the fabric drove her crazy.

  A quiet humming sound came from her throat as she played her hands over his shoulders, feeling muscle and bone. His neck was athletic and ropy, his hair thick and luscious when her fingers plunged into it.

  But it was his mouth that most surprised and excited her. Based on what his kisses were doing to her, she couldn't wait to get on with the evening's program.

  She could be naked at the pull of a sash, but he was still far too clothed.

  Running her hands down his back, she took a moment to appreciate the fine wool of his shirt and the musculature of his back. Soon her hands were burrowing beneath to feel his skin.

  No good. Needed more. She reached for his shirt hem again, to find him there before her, his own hands divesting himself of the shirt at top speed.

  “I don't think I can take this slowly,” he panted as he tossed the obviously expensive shirt to the floor. “I wanted to, but I can't.”

  “Me neither,” she admitted.

  He stepped back to give himself some room and went to work on his buckle.

  With fire raging in her own body, Tara put a hand to her robe's silk tie.

  “No!” He stopped her with a ragged half-shout. “I want to do that. I've been thinking about it since I got in here. You're part of my Christmas present and I want to unwrap you myself.”

  Since he'd just dragged his pants and briefs down in one jerky motion, and her gaze had eagerly followed the movement, her mouth was currently too dry to speak.

  She was getting an inkling of where his legendary reputation with women originated.

  Oh, my.

  She didn't remember seeing him take of
f his shoes, but he wasn't wearing them now, and he snagged his socks with a practiced smoothness as he finished undressing.

  “You are gorgeous,” she heard herself say, then blushed at sounding such an idiot. So she scolded. “And it's not fair you get to undress me when I didn't get to undress you.”

  A purely carnal gleam lit his eyes. “I guess you're right,” he said slowly. “Fair's fair.”

  He stepped to the end of the bed, giving her a mouthwatering view of his muscular back, adorably white butt and darker legs. He flipped the tasteful floral bed cover back, stacked a couple of pillows at the head and settled himself against them. She'd think he was settling in for a nap if it weren't for the straining impatience of his impressive erection.

  “Okay,” he said. “Your turn.”

  Why hadn't she kept her big mouth shut? Now he'd left her with two choices. She could act like a scared prude, which was exactly how she felt, dash to the bed, toss the robe and plunge under the covers, or she could bare herself to him as though she were one of those brazen perfect-bodied women who made exercise their life's work.

  She grit her teeth. She'd be damned if she cowered. And her body wasn't going to attain perfection simply by standing here.

  The hell with it. What could he do?

  Apart from laugh at her and share the secrets of her nakedness with all the puerile juvenile men in the office.

  She stood there, her hand hovering at the knot in her robe's sash.

  “You look as though you're calculating the daily interest on the national debt,” he said, with a crooked grin. “Come on. I showed you mine. You show me yours.”

  “If one word of this ever, ever gets out in the office, I will take you apart.”

  Instantly, he grew serious. “Some things are private,” he said softly, and she found she believed him.

  She pushed her shoulders back, took a deep breath. She undid the robe then shrugged it from her shoulders so it slid, raining silken kisses down her back.

  For a long moment his gaze remained on her face and for that alone she wanted to kiss him.

  Then his gaze took a slow, lazy tour of her body and instead of feeling self-conscious and imperfect, she felt like a goddess. There was no disguising the rapt adoration in his eyes.

  When even her feet felt loved by his gaze, and her own feminine power was a high all its own, he said, “Come here.” His voice was so husky she heard the barely leashed control.

  All her womanly instincts responded.

  She walked slowly toward him and let him look.

  When she hit the bed, she reached for one of the condoms she'd placed on the bedside table and handed it to him. “Merry Christmas.”

  He reached as though to take it from her hand, then grasped her wrist instead and pulled so she tumbled across him with a squeak.

  “Right back at you,” he said and feasted on her mouth. His kiss was deep and hungry, drugging in its intensity.

  Her blood pounded through her veins as need blossomed. Now that they were both naked and together, she wanted to touch as much of his body as possible with as much of her body as possible.

  “Touch me,” she sighed, even as she lay atop him giving him a full-body kiss.

  He rolled her until she was underneath him, then trailed his fingers along the seam of her thighs until, with a moan, she opened for him.

  When she'd said, “Touch me,” she'd had more of a general touch in mind. But he'd obviously taken her request more specifically. When she felt his palm cup her mound, she was ill-inclined to clarify her words. This worked just fine.

  “Oh, you feel good,” he mumbled against her ear as she felt his fingers moving over her slick, intimate places.

  “You have no idea,” she said. His touch was masterful, as though he instinctively gauged just the right pressure and friction.

  She felt wet, hot and womanly. While his fingers toyed with her hot button, his mouth stayed busy kissing her.

  Knowing she was closing in on ecstasy way too fast, she tried to nudge him in the right direction so he'd be inside her when she climaxed.

  “No,” he said, kissing her softly. “I want to watch you come. I want to watch your face when it's not twisted with rage and hurling insults at me.”

  How could he? How could he caress her, naked and open to him, intimate and giving, and then bring up their less-than-harmonious work relationship?

  “I should have known this wouldn't work,” she panted. “Get up. Get off me.”

  He chuckled and slipped two fingers inside her body. “Are you sure you want me to stop?”

  He was pressing … and rubbing … and she didn't want to give him the satisfaction, but she couldn't stop the swift slide into bliss.

  “You bastard,” she cried, even as he pushed her over the edge and she plunged into a noisy and satisfying orgasm.

  Her climax left her barely sated, wanting more. She needed him inside her so fiercely, she burned. She also wanted to make sure she saw him at his most vulnerable, staring right into his eyes when he lost control.

  Fortunately, he either sensed her desperation or shared it, for he sheathed himself with a minimum of fuss and before her breath was quite back in her body, parted her legs and settled between them.

  She stared up into his eyes, feeling the strange disconnect between the business-clothed Daniel who drove her crazy and the naked on-the-brink-of-entering-her Daniel who drove her crazy in an entirely different way.

  “I can't believe this is happening,” she whispered, lifting her hand to touch his cheek, as though to prove to herself he was real.

  “I can't believe how much I want you.”

  She felt the blunt, warm tip of his penis nudging her open and her hips tilted of their own accord as she felt her body softening, opening for him.

  She could feel the tension in his muscles as he held himself in check and she waited for him to slip the leash and surge into her. Instead, he cupped her face in his hands and, eyes open, holding her gaze, he lowered his head slowly to kiss her.

  It was a long, sweet kiss, so different from what she would have expected from him. As he slipped his tongue between her lips, he eased into her body.

  The sound that emerged from her throat was part growl and part purr. He filled and stretched her deliciously, entering her so slowly that she felt the pull and clench of her own muscles sucking him deep.

  Once he was fully inside her, she found she wanted to hold him there, even as she craved the friction. She wrapped her legs around his hips, taking him as deep as she could, then wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

  He was big and solid and wonderful. Moving slowly at first, he sent warm currents scudding through her body. She was determined that this time he'd lose control first, and it wasn't long before she felt that happen. He thrust faster, up and hard, reaching a part of her she was certain had never been touched. Mindlessly, she arched against him, unable to hold herself in check, hearing their flesh slap at each mad joining, faster and faster until she was crying out once more, her lips plastered against his sweat-damp shoulder.

  A couple more thrusts and she felt his body go rigid as he hit his own point of no return. She held him through his climax and then they collapsed in a tangled, exhausted heap.

  She lay sprawled and spent across his chest. Her fingers played idly in his chest hair while she waited for their breathing to slow.

  She'd never felt so blissfully and thoroughly loved, which made her uneasy. And that of course made her cranky.

  Daniel's skin, she noted, was awfully bronzed for December in the rainy Pacific Northwest . His butt and crotch sported a paler, bathing suit—size patch. “Did you get that tan on company time?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Was this whole thing a devious plan to check my body for illicit tan lines?”

  She chuckled. “You didn't think I wanted you for sex, did you?”

  With a shriek, she found herself flat on her back while Daniel bit—not all that gently—at her nipples.r />
  “Ow,” she struggled, giggling. “Ow, stop it. All right, all right! I only wanted you for sex.”

  Immediately his mouth gentled, soothing her nipples with his tongue. “I spent a long weekend in Bermuda,” he told her. “Between seeing customers on the East Coast. Okay?”

  The way his tongue was curling around her nipple made everything okay.

  There hadn't been a lot of foreplay before. They hadn't wanted it. Hadn't needed it. Both of them had been in too much of a hurry. Now it was nice to take the time simply to enjoy each other's bodies.

  From her nipple, a tingling warmth began to radiate, and, amazingly, before her heart rate had entirely slowed from the last bout of sex, it started pounding again as desire flowed once more.

  “How many condoms did you bring?” he murmured against her breast.

  “A dozen.”

  He grinned up at her. “Me, too.”

  Soon he had number two on, and slipped into her body, which received him with quiet pleasure. Now that the desperate need was slaked, they took their time, touching, exploring, rolling around the bed until finally, she trapped him beneath her and took him at her own pace, sending them both over the edge once again.

  “Hungry?” he asked later, when, sweaty and exhausted, they collapsed against the pillows again.

  “Starving.”

  They ate room service sushi at the table by the window since Tara refused to eat in bed. She slipped back into her silk robe and he shrugged into the hotel's terry robe, and they drank the rest of the champagne.

  They also talked. About traveling, which they both loved, and about sailing which he loved and she'd barely tried. “You live by the ocean and don't sail?” he asked, sounding astonished.

  “Never had much opportunity, I guess.”

  “I'll take you out on my boat when the weather warms up,” he said. And she wondered just how many women had heard those words, and how many of them had actually lasted through two seasons.

  And then the bottle was empty and the food gone. There was a pause and Daniel assumed they were both thinking the same thing. Stay or go?