Carrie Alexander - Christmas in His Bed - Talking in Your Sleep... / Unwrapped / Kiss & Tell

He didn’t move away when he was done hanging the decoration, but instead wrapped both hands around her front, his hands doing wicked things to her breasts as he kissed the back of her neck. She leaned against him, the hardness of his cock slipping into the pocket of heat between her thighs as she issued an unmistakable invitation for what she wanted him to do, right now, right there, standing by the Christmas tree. He didn’t do anything more than continue to kiss and rub, shifting back and forth with a gentle friction that had them both panting with need.

“Rafe,” she said breathlessly, reaching up to touch his face, “let’s go upstairs. We’ll finish the tree later.”

He murmured his agreement, then suddenly the doorbell rang, yanking her out of the spell with a groan.

“Ignore it,” she said.

“It’s the food,” he said, pulling on his jeans and grabbing his wallet. “Just take a sec. I’m starving,” he added, dragging his eyes down her form as he said it.

They hadn’t had dinner, though she wasn’t hungry for anything but more of what Rafe was doing to her body. When he went to the door, she made sure she was out of eyesight, and shivered, missing his heat.

After he set the food on the table, he turned her around in his arms and took her mouth in a kiss so carnal her toes curled into the carpet, and she thought hazily that she might never wear clothes around her house again.

His tongue stroked hers repeatedly before sucking her into his mouth, tasting her deeply, touching her as she wanted him to touch her elsewhere. She’d never, ever, in her life been this turned on by a man’s touch. She had a hard time coming, yes, but she was damned near the edge from what he was doing to her mouth, and she wanted more, saying as much when he released her from the kiss.

“We will … after the tree is done. Then we can have some dinner and admire it.”

“I don’t want to wait,” she pleaded, her frustration reaching a fevered pitch. He kissed her again, and her body fit itself to his.

“Just a little longer. Don’t be so bossy,” he teased, kissing her nose before stepping away to reach for the last few ornaments. Joy wanted to scream but helped him nonetheless, placing the last ones much less thoughtfully than she had at first.

She was hot all over and craving whatever relief Rafe could offer. She’d never been this aroused in her entire life, and while it was all good, she was simultaneously afraid of losing the buzz, as if too much teasing would backfire, like overinflating a balloon and having it burst.

One look at Rafe’s very aroused body and she knew her fears were probably baseless. This horny phase she was in wasn’t likely to pass until she had him—maybe repeatedly.

PAM WOKE UP SUDDENLY, jerking her head from the desk with a cramp in her neck. Papers she’d been working on were plastered to her cheek. She peeled them off, casting a glance at the clock—it was 11:00 p.m. Another night on the cot in the back. She had to finish working on the budget first, though. Maybe if she crunched the numbers again, she’d find a way to squeeze more out of them.

Even with Joy’s help, they would barely be able to afford the kind of party they were trying to give, and every cent counted—it was a last-ditch effort at keeping Second Chance open, outside of taking a loan that Pam had no idea how she’d ever pay back. She hadn’t told the current residents what was going on, and didn’t intend to, not until it was absolutely necessary.

If the worst happened, she’d already been in contact with some other shelters, and she would make sure her people had places to go. The problem was that the other places offered lodging, but they didn’t necessarily offer as much support to get people started in new lives, new jobs, with a new sense of self.

Second Chance was about giving people a step up, not just a place to stay. She’d put everything in her life for the last fifteen years into building this place, and her vision had worked. She wasn’t going to lose it without a fight.

The determination to fight was good—it was what she needed to keep herself from thinking about how much she missed Ted. They’d talked a few times on the phone, but the conversations had been stilted and touchy. She was hurt, so was he.

They weren’t sure how to approach each other anymore, and she hated it—they’d been comfortable around each other since day one, and now it felt as if there were a huge wall between them. All she wanted was his touch, his kiss, and to be able to lean on him right now, but it wasn’t possible.

Well, she’d stood on her own before, and she would now. Her thoughts drifted to her parents, and if she were honest, she’d been tempted to ask them to bail her out. They might do it, but then there would be strings, and she couldn’t deal with that. They’d never give her the money without conditions, and that was why she’d never asked. They were good people, basically, but they had a different set of values, and they’d always wanted something different for her than what she wanted for herself.

As she turned her bleary eyes back to the pages spread all over the desk, she jumped when there was a soft knock at the office door. She got up—everyone was usually in their room by now, but someone must have noticed her light on.

As she opened the door, her heart plunged. Ted’s large form filled the doorway.

“What are you doing here?” was the first thing out of her mouth, and when she saw him flinch, she instantly regretted her harsh welcome.

“I miss you,” he said, his tone raw, matching the emotion in his eyes. “I know I screwed up. I want to make it better, I want us to make it better, Pam. Whatever it takes.”

She stepped away, hearing what he was saying, but taken aback by the unexpectedness of it. He looked exhausted, haggard, even in his new suit. He must have come directly from the office. Still, she couldn’t deny the happiness that surged inside of her. Maybe the wall between them was crumbling somewhat; maybe there was hope.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap. I’m tired, and I was just startled to see you so late. I’ve missed you, too,” she admitted, closing the door behind him. “I was going over the budgets.”

“Are things okay?”

“No,” she said honestly, and she hoped without blame. “It’s going to be tighter than tight, but we’re throwing everything into a Christmas fund-raiser. We’re hoping to turn attitudes around, get things back on track. If not, we won’t make it long past the new year, unless I take a loan, but I don’t know how the hell I would pay it off if I did. Douglas caused some damage, and Martin didn’t exactly help—both of them were more than eager to talk to people around them, and of course they made it all sound so … bad.”

He met her gaze, his own lighting with determination. “Let me help. I’m doing okay now, I’ll get a raise soon—take the loan you were considering. I can shoulder the payments until you get back on your feet.”

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