Tanya Michaels: Mistletoe Cinderella

Her presence here couldn’t have happened at a better time. Earlier tonight, she’d been the only person he wanted to turn to, the person who’d given him the exact input he’d needed, and he’d realized just how much he’d fallen for her.

“Dylan.” She took in his partially dressed state of slacks and undershirt. “I hope I’m not bothering you, but-”

“C.J.” Chloe . He tugged her into his arms, tilting her face up to him. She cared about him enough to share the difficult truth, had driven all this way in the middle of the night. He was delirious with the need to touch her, the need to comfort her.

What seemed like a lifetime ago, he’d wanted to see her break down. Now all he wanted to do was kiss away her tears.

“I am so glad to see you,” he breathed, letting go of her just long enough to shut the door behind her.

“You might not be for long,” she warned.

“No, don’t say that.” He shook his head. “I’ll always be glad to see you. My heart does this stutter like it’s suspended in time for that second when I first lay eyes on you. It happened when I saw you in that hotel lobby and every time since.”

Unable to stop himself-not wanting to stop himself-he drew her back to him and kissed her. He was better at articulating his feelings that way. At the last minute, he made an attempt to slow down, softening the kiss so that he didn’t pounce on her like a starving man presented with a buffet.

Instead, he nipped at her lower lip, sucking gently. She hadn’t bothered with makeup before her late-night drive, and it was the first time he’d ever kissed her when she wasn’t wearing lip gloss. She tasted like…Chloe, the most erotic flavor he’d ever sampled.

Fingers meshed in her hair, he speared his tongue into the soft heat of her mouth. She whimpered, but it was clearly not a sound of protest since she was frantically wriggling closer. He kissed his way down the column of her throat, murmuring against her skin. “You are so beautiful. And I want you so badly.”

Joining their mouths once again, he cupped her breast through the cotton of her T-shirt, and she arched into his palm. Then he lowered his hand beneath the hem, skimming over the sensitive skin of her midriff.

Although it had never been a question he felt compelled to ask anyone before, he heard himself say, “Do you want me, too?” Even with all the physical evidence before him, there was the faintest note of uncertainty in his tone.

She swallowed. “God, yes. You…I…”

When the tenderness in her expression gave way to apprehension, he laid a finger over her deliciously bare lips. Now that they were finally body to body and he knew without a doubt he could trust her, he couldn’t bear to lose this moment. “Shh. It’s okay, you don’t have to put it into words.” He might not be able to throw his best fastball anymore, but physical therapy had left him more than able to scoop her up and carry her toward the bedroom. Since a charitable organization had come by to collect some of the pieces he’d be replacing, such as his nightstand, the bedroom was starker than it had been before, making the bed such a focal point of the room that it might as well have neon flashing arrows over it.

But, of course, arrows angled at him would be negative chi, and Dylan was feeling extremely positive about life right now.

As soon as he’d set her on the foot of the bed, he tugged off his shirt. Then he reached for hers, removing it so quickly it was as if the fabric obligingly disintegrated. She sucked in a breath, causing her chest to swell in the lacy cups of a pale pink bra. Her skin was pale, too, smooth and exquisitely delicate. Pressing her against the mattress, he dropped kisses across her shoulder and collarbone, his fingers tracing circles over her abdomen.

“I came here to tell you something,” she said.

He glanced up, meeting her gaze. “If it was to tell me that you think you’re falling in love with me, the feeling is mutual.”

She froze, her eyes widening. “It is? You are?”

Feeling far shier than he had when he’d first done this at sixteen, he nodded. She plunged her fingers through his hair, pulled him closer and kissed him fervently, putting her whole heart into it. He kissed her back, realizing that for the first time in his life, he had his whole heart to give. He’d always dated, but baseball had been his first love, demanding so much time and concentration. And after confiding in her the other night about his childhood, he felt he’d cleared out emotional cobwebs that had kept him from experiencing everything so vividly before.

His previous encounters with women had been grainy and blurred; Chloe was hi-def.

Kissing the slope of her breast, he was pleased to discover that her bra had a front clasp. He flicked it open with the enthusiastic awe of a boy unwrapping a long-awaited birthday present. Propping himself on an elbow, he simply admired her for a second.

She wiggled, and he wasn’t sure if she was trying to press their bodies closer because she missed the contact or because she was trying to shield herself from his gaze. “I’m not going to be able to talk to you naked,” she fretted.

“Excellent, then we’ll talk later.”

“But, I-”

“It will be okay.” He rubbed a thumb over one pebbled nipple. “It will be more than okay, I promise.” Then he lowered his head to take her in his mouth, and her words faded to gasps.

He managed to get them both undressed, although it was difficult to concentrate on the button and zipper of his slacks with Chloe raking her nails lightly over his chest and running her tongue across his earlobe. The shell-pink panties she wore were silky, but she was far silkier beneath them, hot and wet to his touch. He pressed his thumb against her, almost lost control himself when he slid his finger into her. Her head dropped back, her breathing erotically ragged. Watching her climax was humbling.

“You are magnificent,” he whispered, kissing her and tasting salt on her skin.

It wasn’t until he’d rolled on a condom that he realized the fundamental flaw in his interrupting her earlier. As he sheathed himself in the welcoming tightness of her body, he regretted not being able to call her by name. But if they had to stop now for questions and explanations…So her name became a wordless chant in his mind as he pulled back and slowly thrust. He slid his hands over the sleek muscles of her toned legs, which she’d wrapped around his hips.

Dylan lost himself inside her. Inside her eyes and her touch and the way she quivered around him. When she came a second time, she locked her arms and legs around him and cried his name. It sent him over the edge.

Afterward, he felt dazed and dumbstruck. He wasn’t even sure how much time had passed, although he knew it was late, when Chloe prompted, “Dylan?”

He yawned, his eyes feeling as heavy as two-ton weights. “Hmm?”

Her own voice sounded sleepy but determined. “Are you awake?”

“Definitely not. Best dream of my life,” he said, hugging her.

“Can we talk?”

“In mornin’,” he mumbled. His last waking thought was of how lucky he’d been to go to that reunion.

CHLOE WOKE INSTANTLY, jolted from a dreamless sleep. She felt as if she’d been unconscious for years-a naked and slightly sore Rip Van Winkle. Sunlight spilled around the edges of a window shade in an unadorned window. They’d picked out new window treatments Dylan planned to install this weekend. Dylan!

Emotion spasmed through her, intense joy at what had taken place between them and daunting trepidation that she still hadn’t told him who she really was. Last night she’d said she couldn’t talk to him in the nude, a tactical error on her part. Perhaps she had a better shot of helping him work through his understandable anger if there weren’t a lot of clothes between them.