I rolled over and shot him a look that I hoped was more seductress than deer in headlights, and scooted back on the bed. When I was reclined against the pillows with nothing but my undergarments and a pair of heels on, I trailed my hand down my shoulder.
I felt stupid and ridiculous until I looked up at him and saw the way he stood there, his fists clenched and his gaze locked on my hand as it moved. Then I felt powerful. So freaking powerful. I bit down on my lip and moved my hand lower, tracing the curve of my breasts while he watched.
He ripped the condom open and pulled it out, his gaze latched on my hand as he did so. “Take off everything but the heels and the…” he said, his voice gruff. He gestured to my thigh-highs, “…the tights or whatever the fuck they’re called.”
I sat up and undid my bra, letting it fall to the side. Then I reclined back and closed my hands over my breasts, letting out a small moan. He took a step toward me, his blue eyes dark and his lips parted. “Jesus.”
“Nope. Stay there,” I said, not taking my hands off myself. This new strength I’d found was exhilarating, and if I was going to do this for him? I was going to do it right, thank you very much. His tattoo-covered muscles flexed when he stopped in his tracks. “No touching yet.”
He curled his empty hand into a fist at his side. “You’re touching.”
“Only me.” I rolled my hands over my nipples, licking my lips at the thrill that shot right to my core. Seeing him watching me do this was so freaking hot. “You’ll get your turn.”
He stepped closer and gripped his erection. “If you get to touch, so do I.”
I looked down at his hand moving over his shaft and my stomach hollowed out. His abs clenched as his hand worked over himself and I moaned, sliding my hand even lower over my stomach. When I closed my fingers over my mound, he jerked his cock harder. Funny how I still blushed when I thought about that word.
I bit down on my lip and moved my fingers over myself, feeling the pressure building up even more so as I watched him touch himself.
He took a step closer. “Take off the panties, or I’ll take them off for you. But if you make yourself come, with me watching, I’ll blow your fucking mind right after. So I suggest you lose them.”
I took them off in record time and pressed my fingers against my clit. I was so freaking ready it wouldn’t take much to send me over the edge. I knew it. So I rubbed them in a circle, increasing the pressure when a jolt of pleasure hit me hard. “Oh God.”
“Fuck,” he muttered, climbing onto the bed. He grabbed my ankle and nibbled on it, then kissed higher on my calf. “Keep going, Ginger. Show me how good you feel.”
I whimpered and moved my fingers faster. Harder. “Finn…”
“I’m here,” he said, his voice raw.
He slid his hands up my body and under my butt. Having him so close to where I was touching myself must have sent me over the edge, because I tossed my head back and forth and my entire body clenched. I increased the pressure, the pleasure and painful need ravaging me until I exploded, squeezing my eyes shut tight at the sheer intensity of it all.
I didn’t even have time to crash and burn before he was in between my legs, his mouth fastening to mine and his erection pressing against my throbbing clit. All it took was one bump from him, and I came again—miraculously and explosively.
He deepened the kiss, his teeth digging into my lower lip, and then thrust inside me with one quick stroke. I closed my legs around him, digging my high heels into his bare ass, and clung to him for dear life. He moved fast and hard and heavenly. I wrapped my arms around him and dug my nails in, lifting my hips to take more of him.
The pressure was building up again, driving me higher and higher until I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to come back down. But then he swirled his tongue over mine and changed his angle, brushing against my clit, and I did crash down.
But first, oh my God, I soared. I freaking flew.
He thrust into me one last time, deep, before he tensed over me, breaking off the kiss long enough to utter, “Carrie.”
He made my name sound like a miracle or some amazing thing only he could have, and I didn’t know what to say in reply. So I wrapped my arms around him and clung tight, squeezing my eyes shut. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” he whispered, his face buried against my neck. He kissed me gently, right under my ear. “I’m going to miss you so damn much.”
I swallowed hard. “I’ll miss you, too.”
It was almost funny. I’d been so high moments ago, but now I was back on the ground, and I didn’t want to let go of him.
I didn’t want to let go because I knew once I did…
He would leave me.
19
I finished my lasagna pretty quickly and studied her from across the candlelit table. She was still eating, so she wasn’t watching me like I was watching her. As a matter of fact, she hadn’t looked up in a while. I knew why. She was sad I was leaving, and I wished I could take it back, almost. Wished I hadn’t agreed to leave. But if I hadn’t, then next year it would have been war.
I’d only have been delaying the inevitable. At least this way it was on my terms.
And once it was over, well, then I’d have Carrie. And I’d never leave her side again, if I had any say. I picked up my champagne and finished it with one swallow. I had to be up bright and early at five a.m. tomorrow, but I could indulge a little. No matter how I looked at it, or how many ways I tried to spin it into some bright shiny angle that would make me feel better, I was leaving the woman I loved behind. And I didn’t fucking like it.
“You’re awfully quiet over there, Ginger.”
Her head snapped up and she swallowed her last bite. Picking up the cloth napkin with the Christmas tree on the corner I’d bought just for this dinner, she swiped it over her mouth and picked up her glass of champagne. After taking a hearty sip, she cleared her throat and smiled at me.
It was a strained smile. She was trying to hide how upset she was that I was leaving. “I was busy enjoying the dinner you made. It was delicious.”
“Thank you. It’s all part of the plan.” I stood up and grabbed the bottle. I stopped at her side and wiggled it in the air. “You ready for a refill yet, slowpoke?”
“Usually you yell at me for drinking too much.” She downed the rest of her drink and extended her arm, so I filled her glass and then mine. “Now you want me to drink more? Make up your mind.”
In the background, Perry Como crooned on about a white Christmas. The flickering candlelight played with the shadows across her face. I smiled down at her and held out my free hand. “Well, tonight it’s Christmas Eve, so the rules don’t apply.”
She slipped her hand into mine and I helped her stand. Once she was on her feet, I led her over to the bare tree. “Look up.”
She did, her long, graceful neck arching as she did so. “Ah.” She chuckled and tightened her hand on mine. “Mistletoe. That means we have to—”
I kissed her, not giving her a chance to say another word. When I pulled back, I rested my forehead on hers and clenched my glass tighter. “Kiss.”
This moment right now? Fucking perfect.
“Mmhm.” She smiled up at me, finally looking not so sad. “Are we going to dress this naked tree or what?”
“Of course.” I dropped her hand and cleared my throat. “Do you want colored lights or white? I bought both because I wasn’t sure.”
“Mom only let us use white. She said it was more elegant, and that the future President of the United States deserved elegant,” she said, her eyes latched on the tree. I reached for the white lights, figuring she’d want to make it like home. “So colored, please.”