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Unwrapping Holly(26)

By:Lisa Renee Jones


Cole grabbed one of her legs and pulled it over his shoulder. Holly quickly aided him, sliding the other one over his shoulder as well. He leaned forward and pinched her nipples; her womb spasmed around his cock. Passion ripped across his features as he grabbed her legs for leverage and, raising up on his knees, thrust into her with newfound force. Each thrust shot pleasure through her body, and the sight of his sweat-glistened body straining as he thrust that thick, hard cock inside her was complete bliss.

“Yes,” she murmured as the build of pressure began; she gave in to the need to shut her eyes as she arched into him. She wanted more of that spot, to tell him so. More. More. Did she dare say it? It was something she’d never done before, but she needed this so damned bad. She needed . . . “Yes. Yes. Harder. Harder, Cole.”

He groaned and pushed her legs to her chest, curling her inward and thrusting fast and hard. The explosion of pleasure came fast, without warning, and a cry lodged in Holly’s throat. Cole pumped again and again, and then grunted with a hard lunge, sinking deep, and spilling his pleasure inside her. They clung to each other, riding out the last waves of release until slowly he eased her legs down and slid between them. They lay like that for long moments, his head buried in her neck, bodies melded together.

Minutes later, Cole rolled over and settled her under his arm, her head nestled on his chest. She felt remarkably content in a way she’d never felt with a man. A wonderful lover, a fire, a Christmas tree. What more could a girl desire?

Thinking of the tree reminded her of the tree topper. She’d fallen asleep without seeing it. She rolled onto her stomach to stare up at the tree. Cole immediately rolled to his side, wrapping his arm around her and nuzzling her neck and distracting her from the tree.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he murmured.

The endearment, though easily spoken by a man to a woman, felt intimate and special. “I wanted to see . . .” She blinked up at the tree topper. “It’s a ruby angel,” she whispered. What were the odds of a ruby wish and a ruby angel? How odd. She almost laughed, wondering if Grandma Reddy was up to mischief from above.

Cole rolled to his stomach and lifted onto his elbows to study the tree. “My parents bought that angel their first Christmas together, forty years ago.” His voice took on a distant, thoughtful tone—a mixture of happy and sad faded in and out of the words. “My mother was very romantic about it. She had to have that angel on the tree for luck. One year when I was a teen, I remember finding her crying in the attic. She thought it was lost. We tore the house apart.”

“Where was it?”

He chuckled and cut her a sideways look. “A hatbox in the closet where she’d put it so it would be safe.”

Holly smiled and stared up at the angel, thinking of the ruby Grandpa had given Grandma. Of the love both rubies represented. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

Cole pulled her close, so they lay facing each other, heads on the pillows he’d brought for them. “You’re beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she said, and she might have blushed, if not for the solemn quality she sensed in him.

She could see he was the pillar in his family. But even pillars had weak spots. She sensed that in his effort to appear strong for his brothers, he’d never properly faced his loss and dealt with his own sorrow. He was hurting.

She thought about her grandmother, but decided not to share her loss. Or even how her father had coped with losing his parents. She didn’t want to diminish the importance of Cole and his family.

Holly reached out and touched his cheek. “Healing takes time.”

His chest expanded with the words, as if he was surprised she understood what he was feeling. He pulled her hand to his mouth and kissed it, thanking her without words. His arms wrapped around her and pulled her close, curling her next to his body. And Holly knew that at least for this one night, she was his pillar.





Chapter Seven



The room was cold, the fire long ago having died, but he was warm. Cole woke to a soft feminine scent. He blinked awake, light spraying through a nearby window. Soft hair tickled his nose as he looked down at Holly curled to his side.

He waited for that feeling that usually came at this point. The one that expanded in his chest and told him it was time to say good-bye. But it didn’t come. He shook himself inwardly, reached for that familiar comfortable feeling, but instead found something else, something beyond comfortable, something that bordered on fulfillment.

Holly shivered and snuggled closer to him, the stiff peaks of her nipples brushing his chest as she lifted her head and stared up at him with sleepy sky blue eyes.