It was the sounds of shuffling paper that woke her. Stretching on the black leather sofa, Steph opened her eyes and turned her head to find Nick wrapping gifts. Or trying to.
“You’re mangling that wrap job,” she murmured, vaguely remembering being lifted in the dining room and carried to the couch. The fire still crackled merrily, music still played softly. Despite the fact she was in a strange place, it felt like home.
Dressed in worn gray sweatpants, Nick sat within touching distance. He twisted at the waist and tossed his arm over her legs. “I’m trying not to, but the more effort I put into it, the worse I seem to do.”
“Need some help?”
He nodded and gave her a boyish smile. With evening stubble along his jaw and finger-mussed hair, he was almost too gorgeous. Angled toward her like he was, the beautifully defined muscles of his chest and arms stood out in stark relief. She hesitated and then gave in to the urge to touch his hair. It was thick and silky, making her shiver with renewed desire. Then he turned his head to kiss her wrist and her stomach did a little flip.
It was going to take her a long time to get over him.
Blowing out a resigned breath, she sat up and maneuvered herself into position straddling his back. He leaned into her and yawned. Shooting a glance at the clock on the mantle, she saw it was two in the morning.
“Being tired might be the reason you’re not wrapping well,” she said dryly. “Why don’t you go to sleep and we’ll go over how to wrap in the morning?”
He linked his arms around her calves and looked at her upside down. “If I go to sleep, will you still be here in the morning?”
“Oh, Nick.” Steph leaned her cheek against the top of his head. “Don’t be silly.”
“You’re talking to a guy who cooked dinner naked.”
Nuzzling her mouth into his hair, she changed the subject. “Do you have double-sided tape?”
“Huh? That sounds kinky.”
She laughed and fell a little in love. “For your presents.”
“Oh… Bummer. No. Just the regular clear stuff.”
“Okay, sex maniac.” She looked over his shoulder. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
He turned his head and kissed her cheek.
Her heart clenched, and she had to clear her throat before she spoke. “You have too much paper on the ends. That’s why it’s hard for you to fold them without bunching it up.”
Nick took up the scissors and cut. “Like that? Is that enough?”
“Yeah.” She slipped her arms beneath his and demonstrated how to tuck the corners. “Now put some tape right there.”
“Here?” His voice had deepened. With her breasts pressed to his back and her nose by his throat, their position was unbearably intimate.
“That’s perfect,” she breathed, releasing the gift and drawing back. He caught her hands before they left his lap.
Cupping her hands over his pecs, Nick whispered, “Touch me.”
She swallowed hard as his skin heated under her hands. The tips of her fingers found the flat points of his nipples and rubbed gently. Groaning, his arms fell to his sides.
He leaned his head back into her lap and the sight of his face lost in pleasure was too much for her. Steph looked away, taking in the glass-topped coffee table, the flat-screen TV and the bare Christmas tree by the sliding glass door.
“Don’t you have any ornaments?” she asked.
“No.” His voice was a low whisper of sound. “I bought the tree for you and forgot the damn ornaments.”
Her hands stilled. “For me?” Oh my God, I’m going to cry.
“Yeah, I knew from that notepad of yours and the little tree on your desk that you must really like Christmas. I do too, but since I’m going to my sister’s for holiday dinner, I hadn’t bought one for myself. For you, though, I figured it wouldn’t be much of a Christmas wish if it didn’t feel like Christmas around here.”
Wiggling around, she switched from straddling his back to straddling his hips. Face to face, they stared at each other.
“I’m sorry I forgot the ornaments,” he said.
And then he cupped the back of her neck and kissed her.
Unlike the deep possessive kiss he’d given her in her office, this kiss was coaxing, his lips brushing, his tongue flicking softly. Steph wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back with everything she had. In gratitude. In lust. In love.
She pulled away and gasped, “What do you want for Christmas?”
“This. You. Making love with you.” He rocked his hips and she felt how aroused he was.
A gift that required no wrapping. No words. She lifted her skirt, he tugged down his sweats. She sheathed him. First in latex, then with her body. He groaned, she cried out. They moved together, without the haste that had marked their previous encounters. Her hands on his bare shoulders, she took him deep, rising and falling in tempo with the sounds he made. Clenching her muscles to stroke his thick length.