Jill Shalvis: Small Town Christmas

“I know that, too,” he said, and pulled the small ring box from his pocket. He’d been carrying it around for a month now, ever since he’d realized he couldn’t live without her. “I wanted to wrap it in something she couldn’t resist. I was thinking something sweet. Can’t you make me a fruitcake or something?”

“Bless your heart,” Tara said. “But no one likes fruitcake. I’ll fix you up with just the thing. You’d best be sure, Logan Perrish. If you screw this up…”

“I won’t.” And God, how he hoped that was true.

It was twelve thirty a.m. before Sandy let herself into her house. Her place was high above the town on the bluffs. It was a tiny little thing, but she loved it because it was all hers.

Inside, she turned on the lights to her Christmas tree but nothing else. For a long moment, she just looked at the cute little tree, flickering for all it was worth. She very carefully avoided peeking beneath it, where there were no presents. Her family was all back East, but she couldn’t afford to go this year. Her parents had sent her a check, but she hadn’t bought herself anything yet. Now she wished she had. When her phone rang, she jumped, startled. It was Logan.

“Merry Christmas,” he said.

She melted at the sound of his voice, even as her heart panged hard. She imagined he was already back in San Francisco, maybe celebrating with friends and family. “Same to you. How’s your Christmas so far?”

“To be determined. There’s a present at your door.”

“No,” she said. “I just came in…” Biting her lip, she whirled to the door and pulled it open.

Logan stood there with a smile brighter than her Christmas tree, one hand braced above him, the other holding his cell to his ear. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she said breathlessly. Because she was a chronic idiot, she just stared at him. He shoved his cell phone into his pocket, and she walked into his arms. He wrapped them around her and kicked the door closed behind them as he eyed her tree. “It’s missing something.”

“It is not,” she said, insulted.

He set her loose and pulled a brightly wrapped present from his pocket and set it beneath the tree.

Her heart stopped. How had he known? She stared at the present, then dropped to her knees in front of it. “I bought myself a new hair straightener the other day. I almost wrapped it and stuck it beneath the tree just to have a present to unwrap on Christmas. This is much better.”

“Babe.” His voice was low, husky, and full of far too much understanding.

Her heart took a direct hit, and she busied herself with fixing an already perfectly placed decoration.

“Sandy, look at me.”

No. If she did, her mouth might run away with her good sense and ask how long he was sticking this time. Another week?

Less?

If she asked, he might feel the need to be honest, to remind her that come next season, he still had an entire world counting on him, a world that was far from here. It was also a world that she secretly yearned to see and experience-but how could she ask that of him? She knew she could have gone and seen him these past few months. She should have, but the truth was she wanted to go as his one woman, not as one of his women. And worse, if she looked at him, he’d see all of that along with her entire heart. That would be the biggest mistake of all.

Logan crouched before the woman he knew he’d never get enough of. She had her head bowed away from him, and she was breaking his heart. He reached for the box and handed it to her.

She pulled on the ribbon and gently tore away the paper, then sucked in a breath at the robin-blue Tiffany box. “ Logan ,” she breathed.

“Open it.”

She pulled off the lid and gasped, then lifted the diamond pendant necklace from the box. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered, and her eyes filled.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Hey, it’s supposed to make you happy.”

She flashed a brilliant smile, if not a little soggy. “I am,” she assured him. “It’s just the most wonderful gift anyone’s ever given me.” She saw the card on the bottom of the box and reached for it.

For Sandy,

The only woman I want to be with for Christmas.

Love, Logan.

He took the necklace from her and placed it around her neck. She fisted her hand around the pendant and held it to her heart. “I love it, Logan. Thank you.”

“Looks good on you.” He looked at her for a moment, hoping she was starting to understand how serious he was. Cupping her face, he stared into her eyes, slowly leaned in, and caressed her mouth with his in a gentle kiss. “I have another present for you. I’ve had this one for a while.”

“No,” she said. “You’ve given me too much. It’s my turn to give you your present,” she whispered against his lips. “It’s wrapped and everything.” She took his hand in hers and brought it to the bow at her hip, the one that appeared to hold her wraparound dress together.

“Mmm,” he said, pulse leaping. “My favorite kind of present.” The bow came loose, and her dress fell away, revealing a black silk bra and thong, and the soft, curvy body he’d been dreaming about every night for six months. “Exactly what I wanted,” he whispered, and pulled her down to the rug.

Sprawled out over her, he felt his heart roll over, and his smile slowly faded. “Sandy, about the other present. I-”

“Later,” she murmured. “Much later.” And she pulled his head down to hers.

Logan’s mouth ravaging hers again after all this time sent a thrill through Sandy. She’d accepted that she loved him, that this was what he had to give her, and for tonight, it was enough. It would have to be. So she dug her fingers into his shoulders and arched up into him.

She was rewarded when his mouth continued its quest to own hers, his tongue stroking in tune to his hands on her body, which felt like a tightly strung instrument, playing just for him.

Only for him.

“Tell me what you want, Sandy.”

She was pretty sure he didn’t want the answer to that, because the answer was everything. She wanted everything from him. “Well… you’re overdressed,” she managed to say, and tugged at his shirt.

He reared up and stripped out of his clothes, leaving nothing but muscle and sinew and testosterone wrapped up in sleek, smooth skin. She couldn’t take her eyes off him.

He didn’t come back over her. Instead, he kneeled between her thighs and slowly slid her bra straps off her shoulders. “Tell me, Sandy…”

“I want you to keep going.”

He smiled, then reached beneath her with one hand and unhooked the clasp of her bra. “I am going to keep going.” He tossed the scrap of lace over his shoulder and then set his attention to her panties.

He removed those with his teeth.

She was panting by the time he crawled back up her body, touching every inch, following each of those touches by nips and kisses and licks of his tongue. She was panting, begging, and beyond desperate as he finally settled his weight over her.

With a moan, she arched her back, lifting herself to him. He smiled as if she’d given him the best Christmas present of his life, then went back to stoking her inner fire, caressing her until the flames consumed her, making her breath catch with each new touch. She wanted more, she wanted him, all of him, but hell if she’d beg.

For anything.

Then he stopped.

“What?” she gasped. There’d better be a fire…

“Just wanted to look at you.”

Oh, she thought, melting. Oh, damn. It had taken her five months to get over him, she still wasn’t over him, and now she wasn’t sure she wanted to be.

He leaned over her, his eyes telling her he could read her thoughts. “Trust me,” he said, his lips so close that they brushed hers as he spoke. “Trust me with you.”