Leslie Kelly - A Soldier's Christmas - I'll Be Home for Christmas / Presents Under the Tree / If Only in My Dreams

They kissed until neither of them could breathe, tongues wild and hungry, their bodies twisting and thrusting, then drew apart to gasp for air. She continued to hold him tightly with her arms and her legs as he carried her to the bed and tossed her down onto it.

Ellie quickly jerked the covers down, pushing them out of the way, but didn’t recline and beckon for him. Instead, she sat up on the edge of the bed. Rafe was bending over to take off his boots, and she did the same, her fingers shaking on the laces, every ounce of her attention on him rather than on what she was doing.

Rafe straightened and was unfastening his belt when he saw her reach for her own waistband and flick the button of her jeans. He froze, staring, and Ellie smiled a little, savoring this heady anticipation. They were both anxious—frantic, really. But, despite the fact that they’d been lovers and had shared incredible intimacies in the past, there was certainly a newness now, as if they were experiencing each other for the first time.

She was no longer a skinny college girl, she had a woman’s curves and a woman’s confidence. So she made sure she gave him something to look at, wanting him out of his mind with need before he so much as touched her again.

Lying back on the bed, she unzipped her jeans and wriggled out of them slowly. She thrust her hips up as if to scoot the fabric out from under her bottom, but she was in truth both issuing an invitation and making a promise.

Rafe continued to stare, his eyes glued to the tiny pink panties that remained in place once she’d pushed the denim out of the way. When she sat up enough to kick the jeans all the way off, letting her legs splay apart, he rubbed his hand on his jaw and opened his mouth to breathe deeply, trying to maintain control.

Silly man. She wanted him to forget the meaning of the word control.

Slowly rising again, she slipped her fingers under the elastic edge of her panties, stroking her hipbone. Rafe watched her closely, then moved his hand to his fly, flicking one button, and then another. He had to tug the material away from his stone-hard cock and she saw the way he stroked himself through his clothes as he studied her.

Rising onto her knees, she beckoned him closer.

“Let me help.”

He did as she asked, saying nothing as she began to unfasten the buttons on his heavy outer shirt. When she’d unfastened it completely and pushed it off him, she stared at the light green T-shirt he wore underneath, marveling at the way the cotton molded to that incredible body.

His chest was so broad, his shoulders massive, the muscles in his arms rippling and intimidating. He seemed fully capable of breaking her in half, though she didn’t have even the tiniest hint of fear. He would never hurt her. Despite what he’d been doing for the past seven years, she’d always known Rafe was a caretaker, a tender, loving protector who would sooner chop off his own hand than lift it in anger against any woman. He could never have changed enough to ever make her fear him.

She slid her hands under the bottom of his shirt, rubbing her palms against that hot, muscular stomach, and began pushing the fabric up. Delight washed through her as she stroked the ripples and ridges of his body, and she marveled at the beauty of every inch revealed.

Her breath suddenly caught in her throat, though, when she found the scars.

One was about three inches wide, on his side, between two ribs. The other was on his chest, below one flat nipple. She pulled away enough to look at them; the raw redness of the one on his ribs said the wound hadn’t been there long.

“What happened?” she whispered.

“Nothing.”

Tears came to her eyes as her mind tried to imagine how these marks had come to be on his body. But even these had a kind of beauty, told a story about the man he had become, so she didn’t press him for details. Rafe brushed the moisture away with his fingertips, just as silent. Finally, she moved on, continuing with the shirt, pushing it all the way up. He took over, yanking it over his head and tossing it to the floor, now wearing just his partly unbuttoned pants.

She sat back on her heels, staring at him, having to remind herself to breathe. He was just so amazingly perfect, so incredibly hot, her brain forgot to work. Her heart was falling down on the job, too; her heartbeat was a staccato jangle, all thuds and leaps. She wanted to kiss and stroke every inch of him, but just wasn’t sure which delicious spot to sample first.

“So,” he said, “one of us is wearing too much up top and the other too much on the bottom.”

She immediately pushed at her panties. “You mean these?” Yanking them down, she heard his hoarse gasp and laughed wickedly.

“Mmm, not exactly what I was referring to, but I definitely like the way you think.”

“Oh, wait, did you mean my shirt?” she asked, pretending to pull the panties back up.

“Forget it,” he ordered, pushing her hands away. He hooked his own thumbs in the nylon and tugged them down. She rose up onto her knees again so he could get them all the way off her, loving that his hands shook as he lifted the small bundle of fabric and shoved it into his pocket.

“Did you just steal my underwear?”

“Yeah. Do you have a problem with that?”

“Are you going to sell glimpses of them to all the other freshmen in the boys’ bathroom?”

“These are for my own personal treasure box,” he promised, those dark eyes gleaming. “When I first went into the service, I spent a whole lot of nights wishing I’d stolen a pair right off you.”

“I wish I’d had the idea to give you some,” she murmured, wondering how long he’d fantasized about her before he’d finally decided to force her to let him go for good. Somehow, she knew he’d thought about her long after he’d made that decision. Just as she’d thought about him long after she’d given up.

“Let’s not dwell on any of that,” he said. “Tonight is like getting the Christmas gift I always wanted but never dreamed I’d actually get. So let’s just be glad for what we have now rather than what we didn’t have then.”

A lump formed in her throat as she heard the emotion in his voice. She swallowed the lump down, knowing he was right, but she was so heartbroken for all those moments they’d never had.

“I want you, Ellie,” he said, hunger chasing away any lingering regrets. “I’m dying for you.”

She considered dragging the anticipation out some more, building it higher, but right now, she just wanted to be naked, wanted him naked, wanted to fill every minute they had with erotic intimacy.

So she wasn’t coy. She didn’t tease. She simply reached for the bottom of her sweater and yanked it up and off.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he said, staring down at her as if he’d never beheld anything so perfect. He couldn’t take his eyes off her breasts. Her nipples were poking saucily against the lace of her bra, both from the cold and from the incredible heat he’d built within her. Remembering how much he’d loved to suck them, she traced her fingers against the puckered tips, very aware he wanted to replace her hands with his mouth.

“Show me,” he demanded.

She unclasped her bra and let it fall off her shoulders. Then she was kneeling on the bed before him, stark naked, her long red hair covering her chest, though her nipples peeked between the strands. He eyed her as though she were a banquet and he couldn’t decide what to taste first.

She flung her hair out of the way and lifted her breasts in her own hands, tweaking her nipples with her fingers.

“Please,” she begged.

Decision made. A deliberate smile on his face, Rafe dropped to his knees on the floor and pulled her closer to him. Her parted thighs went around his waist, and he moved one hand to her breast as he caught her mouth in another kiss. Their tongues thrust and played while he tweaked and stroked her, one breast, then the other, until she was panting and gasping against his lips.