Elizabeth Rolls - A Magical Christmas

“Tyler, please—” She’d waited so long, so long , and she wanted it to be now.

“Are you sure?” He stroked his hand over her hair, her cheek, cupped her face so she couldn’t hide from him, and she thrilled in the knowledge that his hand wasn’t steady, that his control wasn’t as absolute as it seemed.

“Are you seriously asking me that?” She slid her hand over his shoulder, behind the strong column of his neck, into his silky hair. “I’ve wanted you forever. It’s always been you. Always.” She watched, heart racing as he reached for a condom from the drawer by the side of his bed. Of course, she thought, after Janet he wouldn’t want to take the risk.

“Look at me.” His voice was a soft command, and she opened her eyes and met the blue blaze of his. Their legs were tangled; she felt the brush of rough hair against the sensitive flesh of her thigh and the solid weight of him as he lay, trapping her with the power of his body. And then he shifted position, and she felt the heat of him, the thickness and the hard pressure, and she knew there was no stopping, no turning back. This was it. It was finally going to happen, and it didn’t seem real because in all her dreams it had been him, always him, this man , and finally her dreams were merging with reality.

“Tyler—” She breathed his name again, dizzy with anticipation, drugged by sensation so acute, she felt as if she’d explode with wanting.

Her hands moved down his back, over hard muscle and satin-smooth skin, exploring every contour of his body. She felt him lift her, felt heat and power and masculine thrust as he entered her slowly, carefully, giving her time to adjust, watching her the whole time, forever changing their relationship with every intimacy he stole. She didn’t know she was holding her breath until he murmured, “Breathe, sweetheart,” and then she snatched in air, holding his gaze as she felt the thickness and power of him stretching her, filling her. She knew he was holding back. She could see it in the glitter of his eyes and the streak of color on his cheekbones. It touched her that he’d be so careful, and she lifted her hand and touched his face, feeling the roughness of his jaw against the softness of her hand.

“Tyler—”

“You’re beautiful.” He murmured the words against her mouth. “I’ve never said that to you before, and I should have. You’re so beautiful.”

She knew she wasn’t, but he made her believe it with the sincerity of his voice and the look in his eyes, and she knew she’d never feel as deeply connected to another person as she did right at that moment.

“I love you.” The words slipped out of her as her feelings spilled over, her emotions too full to be contained. “I love you so much. I always have. My whole life.”

“Bren.” He groaned her name and slid his hand under her, thrusting deep, and she held still for a moment, feeling her body tighten around the thickness of him, and then he was moving with a raw, primitive rhythm that sent her excitement levels rocketing off the scale. Wrapping her legs around him, she lifted into each thrust, felt him adjust the angle to increase the pleasure. She cried out, unable to stop herself, and he lowered his mouth to hers, swallowing the sound, taking everything she was offering so freely. He was buried deep inside her, and she moaned again because something he was doing felt unbelievably good, and she felt the hot ripples of pleasure spread through her body. She heard the possessive purr that came from somewhere deep in his throat, heard him mutter something under his breath, and then her body tightened around his, drawing him to the same place until there was no holding back for either of them and they came together, the pleasure thick and intoxicating, flooding both of them until neither could breathe or move.

He dropped his head to her shoulder, fighting for breath, holding her tightly. Her arms stayed around him. She felt slick skin and strength, the steady thud of his heart and thought dreams can come true .

TYLER WOKE TO FIND her body curled against his.

He lay still, adjusting to the strange and unfamiliar experience of having a woman in his bed at Lake House. And not any woman.

Brenna.

His best friend. Except that what they shared could no longer be defined as friendship, could it? They were lovers. And he wasn’t stupid enough to think that didn’t change everything.

He’d done the one thing he’s sworn he would never do.

I love you, Tyler .

Sweat broke out on his forehead, and he eased away from her, drenched in panic and regret. He had no doubt that those words had been heartfelt and genuine. He’d always known that about her, which was why he’d been careful to avoid this situation. He couldn’t be what she wanted.

So what was he doing here?

The moment she’d said those words to him in the den, he should have walked out of the room.

He should have explained that he wasn’t capable of giving her what she wanted.

Anything.

The only thing he shouldn’t have done was take her to bed.

Had she noticed that he hadn’t said it back?

What happened now?

Where did they go from here, and what would happen to the friendship they’d shared their whole lives?

This was his fault. He’d sat with her and spilled his guts, shared parts of himself he’d never shared with anyone before, and she’d done the same. For once in her life she’d spoken the truth, and that truth had snapped the strained leash on his self-control.

Unable to think clearly with her lying next to him, he slid out of bed and walked silently to the bathroom. Through the windows he could see the snow still falling, and it lay thick and deep over the trees and the forest trail. It showed all the signs of being a perfect powder day. Normally, he would have been hammering on her door, tempting her out before the rest of the world awoke but not this time.

Tyler ran his hand over his face.

He was afraid to wake her. Afraid to face what he’d done to their relationship.

He swore under his breath and stared at his reflection in the mirror. “You’re an idiot.”

“Why are you an idiot?”

He met Brenna’s eyes in the mirror and saw her expression change from soft to wary.

She’d tugged on his blue shirt, and he found it endearing that she’d be shy with him, that she felt the need to cover herself after the intimacies they’d shared the night before. But it didn’t surprise him, because he knew her and knew exactly how she’d react in any situation.

“Brenna.” What was he supposed to say? This was new territory for him. He couldn’t walk away. He couldn’t pretend it hadn’t happened.

He had to deal with it. Usually, he had no trouble speaking his mind, but right now, he didn’t know his mind.

He turned, wishing he had Sean’s smooth way with words or Jackson’s natural diplomacy.

“You regret it, don’t you?” Her voice was flat, her arms wrapped around herself, giving the comfort he should have been offering. “You’re sorry, and you wish you could turn the clock back.”

Did he wish that?

He didn’t know, but the delay in answering condemned him.

There was a flash of pain in her eyes, and then she turned away. Tyler ran his hand over the back of his neck, out of his depth.

“Brenna, sweetheart, wait—”

“For what? For you to find a tactful way to tell me you made a mistake? Forget it.” She grabbed her clothes from the floor and pulled them on, her movements ragged and uneven, her dark hair falling forward in a messy tumble. It didn’t help to know he was the one responsible for that glorious disarray. His fingers, his mouth, the movement of her body under his .