Christmas is Cancelled

chapter Twelve





A little over an hour later, she was surrounded by fully loaded bags and boxes. It took six journeys to get everything in the car, to the point the trunk was almost full. After a quick stop off for fuel, she was on her way. There was no danger of falling asleep this time. Her pulse was racing, and her stomach was in knots the whole way.

Tilly didn’t know whether to be alarmed or pleased to see Phil’s car when she pulled up outside Dean’s house. She hadn’t factored him into the big reunion, though it cleared up her indecision about where she’d be sleeping tonight. The house itself was in darkness, and it took her a few goes to find the right key.

Her heart was beating so loud it was a wonder it didn’t wake everyone up. She held her breath and climbed the stairs, missing out the creaky fourth step, and slipped into Dean’s bedroom undetected. She crept around the edge of the bed and opened the curtains just enough for the light from the streetlamp outside to illuminate the room.

And there he was, curled up on his side facing the window, lying almost in a fetal position. With his dark hair flopped onto his face and his jaw unshaven, he looked far more like the unkempt youth she remembered. Dark shadows spread beneath his eyes, in addition to the deep bruising from Phil’s punch, so half of his face looked purple.

As she stood up again, the light glinted off something he was holding in his arms. Dean didn’t strike her as a teddy bear kind of guy, but she could be wrong. Curiosity got the better of her so she pulled the quilt down for a closer look and almost burst into tears. Once she’d got her breathing back under control, she pried the picture frame from his arms and set it on the bedside cabinet—he didn’t need to cling on to a photograph anymore, not when he could have the real thing.

He looked so exhausted, it wouldn’t be fair to wake him up; just being near him would have to do for now. She fixed the curtain and undressed before sliding into the empty space beside him. Shuffling as close as she could without actually touching, she got close enough to feel the heat radiating off him. Every instinct she had told her she’d made the right decision by coming back. Everything was going to be okay, he was going to forgive her.

Too excited to sleep, she listened to his deep rhythmic breathing until her eyes grew heavy. She was just dropping off when his breathing changed, growing ragged and choppy, and he started moaning in his sleep.

Wide awake again, she dodged his flying arm as his body jerked and thrashed, getting tangled in the quilt. “Sssh, it’s okay,” she whispered, stroking his face.

His eyes flew open at the sound, his face hard; his hands found her arms and gripped her. He blinked twice, and then his expression softened. “Angel? Is it really you?”

Angel?

“Are you okay, Dean? You were having a nightmare.”

“You came back?” He dragged her up against his trembling body and held her tightly. His heart was pounding erratically, as if he’d just run a race, and her own heart sped up trying to match it.

“Yeah, I came back.” She buried her face into his neck to reacquaint herself with his scent.

“Oh, angel, it really is you.” His voice cracked, and he clung onto her, not moving. His shallow breaths were the only sign that he hadn’t gone back to sleep. And then she realized her shoulder was damp.

Gripping his head in her hands, she pulled back to get a better look at him. Sure enough, there were tears on his cheeks, but rather than breaking her heart, it became whole again. She kissed each of his eyes, then pressed her lips gently against his. Dean whimpered, and he sucked in air.

“You came back?” he said, more to himself than to her. “Are you real this time, or is it just another dream?” The fear in his tone was unmistakable. It was like he didn’t dare believe she was real. Now her heart really was in danger of breaking again. How the hell could she ever have thought this man capable of murder?

“Look at me, Dean.” His eyes met hers, the pools of blue so deep she could dive right into them. “I’m real. I’m right here, and I’m never going away again.”

“Never?” He shuddered.

“Never.” She sealed it with another kiss. Except this time Dean kissed her back.

Tilly thought she’d experienced pretty much every kind of kiss there was, but this one was out there in a league of its own. As if reconstructing a fire out of burned embers, his lips set her entire body aflame in seconds, tender yet full of passion, tentative yet desperate and oh so very slow. It was utterly spine tingling.

And then his hands began to move, stroking her from shoulder to hip, then back up over her stomach to cradle her breast. His touch made her skin goose and her insides somersault as heat flooded to the apex of her thighs, aching for his touch. Long fingers stoked the fire, and a low moan escaped her lips.

Dean’s naked body was hot and firm beneath her roving hands. Her heart rate quickened, beating as fast as a hummingbird’s wings and flooding her with desire. She rolled onto her back and dragged him on top of her, but he hesitated, his brow dipping to a slight frown.

“Please?” she whispered.

“Are you sure?”

“Hell, yes.”

He eased inside her, moving tantalizingly slowly as he gave her body time to adjust, until he filled her completely. Dean’s lips flitted over hers, parting them enough for his tongue to dip inside, stroking and tasting. His groans vibrated inside her, reaching all the way down to her toes, and then he began to move.

Just like his kiss, he took his time and made every single movement count. When she tried to increase the tempo, the bed creaked and bumped against the wall, spoiling her plan. She wanted to cry out, scream, but couldn’t, knowing Phil was in the next room. There was nothing she could do but let Dean continue his devilishly slow rhythm.

Sweet and sensuous, he was making love to her; there was no other way to describe it. A master puppeteer, he had full control over her body. She responded to his every move, every touch, her muscles turning to jelly as she came for the third time, but still he didn’t stop.

“Dean, it’s too much.” His sweat-drenched torso glistened in the light, slick beneath her finger tips as he penetrated her deep inside, building the tension to an alarming intensity, like he was punishing her.

“It’s okay, angel, I’ve got you,” he murmured, peppering her with tender kisses.

“I... I can’t—” Her core muscles tightened even more, gripping him as he drove into her.

“Trust me.” His breath whispered over her face. It overloaded her senses, and she lost all control over her own body.

She couldn’t move, she could barely breathe, she wasn’t altogether certain she would survive the next explosion, but there was no turning back. It was one hell of a way to go. “I trust you.”

A low, guttural sound forced its way out of his chest, and sinews sprang from his skin under the strain as his muscles tensed, rippling beneath her fingertips. The tingles started in her toes and chased each other through her veins, leaving a trail of goose bumps, and her eyelids fluttered closed. “No, look at me...”

She forced her lids apart, and his gaze locked onto hers. He looked deep into her eyes as if making love to her soul, and it was the most erotic thing she’d ever experienced. Then came the first tremor, enough to make the hairs on her arms stand on end, closely followed by another, and then another, yet his pace never altered.

She could do nothing but writhe and buck against him, battered by the sensory assault. With one final thrust, his body jerked and pulsed inside her, detonating a dazzling finale of fireworks and strobe lights. “Marry me, angel?” he whispered. “Marry me...”

Tilly fought to keep her eyes open as the words bounced around in her brain. Utterly drained, it was a battle she couldn’t win. Her lids grew so heavy she couldn’t keep them open a moment longer as sleep claimed her.

For the fourth day in a row, she woke up in a different bed. Butterflies took flight in her gut as she remembered Dean’s proposal. He was still asleep, having gone the rest of the night without any more nightmares. The deep crevices between his brows weren’t as pronounced as they’d been when she’d arrived, and he looked far more peaceful.

She heard the spare room door open and close and forced her eyes fully open. It was time to educate Phil with the new ground rules. First, she had to extricate herself from Dean who still lay half on top of her, pinning her down. Impressed that she’d got out without disturbing him, she pulled on last night’s clothes and slipped out to follow Phil downstairs. “So what are you still doing here?”

Phil jumped a mile, dropping the teabag back into the mug with a splash and muttering something unintelligible as he spun around to face her. He seemed to be doing his damnedest not to look happy to see her. “You nearly gave me a heart attack, you stupid cow!”

“Nice to see you too, Phil.” She grabbed his mug of tea and took it to the table.

“Help yourself, why don’t you?” Phil set about making another drink, careful to avoid her eye. “I’ve be looking for you, of course. Oh, there’s a bag of stuff over there from Brian.”

She missed her mouth and dribbled hot tea down her chin. “You’ve seen Brian?”

“Yeah, yesterday. What an a*shole! Well, he won’t be bothering you again.”

She groaned. “Oh no, what did you do?” The bastard was indeed an a*shole, but he was an a*shole that wouldn’t think twice about pressing charges.

“Not nearly enough. Dean wouldn’t let me.”

“Dean was there too?” She sprang out of her seat as if it was an ejector seat and Phil had just hit the red button.

“Brian even had the gall to try and blame him, can you believe it? Spouting something about a photo.”

“Oh, God.” There had to be a joke in the somewhere, it was too awful for words. Not only did her brother know the sordid way her relationship ended, but Dean, her kind-of boyfriend, now knew too.

“What’s wrong? You weren’t thinking of going back to him, were you?”

“Dean? Absolutely, not that it’s any of your business. I think you’ve done quite enough, I’ve half a mind not to have anything to do with you after all your meddling.”

“I meant Brian, but I take your point,” Phil dropped his gaze and stared at a spot on the table. “I...um... I might have been wrong about Dean.”

“No shit, Sherlock, I just can’t believe I fell for it.”

Phil flicked a glance at her. “So has he told you?”

“Told me what?”

“Whatever it is he’s hiding. I know there’s something, he gets all weird sometimes.”

“No, and I haven’t asked. Nor am I going to. If Dean ever wants to talk, then I’m happy to listen.” It was only once the words were out in the open that she realized how much she meant them.

“But—”

“Butt out, Phil,” she said in her best I mean business voice. “I trust him.” She stared him right in the eye and dared him to challenge her. The panicked shriek that came from upstairs made them both jump.

“Angel?” shouted Dean. The fraught edge to his voice carried through the floorboards. “Where are you?” There was a series of crashes and bangs as he came thundering down the stairs, and then he burst into the kitchen, his eyes frantic.

“It’s okay, I’m right here.”

His whole body seemed to collapse in slow motion until he was on his knees in front of her, burying his face into her stomach as his shoulders heaved. “You weren’t there...” he mumbled against her and then sat back on his heels, shaking his head as if trying to clear an image from his mind. “I thought it was just a dream after all.”

“No dream. I’m here to stay if you’ll have me?”

“I thought I made myself clear about that last night—this morning—whenever the heck it was.” A prickle of excitement took root in her heart. Had he really been serious about marrying her? “But don’t you want to know about...” Dean’s voice trailed off.

“As I was just this minute telling Phil”—she noticed he sat upright at the mention of his name and tried to pretend he wasn’t there even as he watched, taking everything in—”I trust you, Dean, and I trust you to tell me when you’re ready. Nothing has changed. I love you, and I want to be with you, and that’s all that matters.”

“I know I don’t deserve you, but I’d very much like to know your answer. Unless you need more time?” A spark shot through her limbs, electrocuting her, making her dare to believe it was really happening.

“Are you serious?” she asked, just to be sure.

Dean raised one knee off the floor and took her hand in his. Her nerves were now jangling so much, it’s a wonder she hadn’t landed on him. “Matilda Carter, would you please do me the honor of marrying me?”

“Yes,” she shrieked, unable to keep the happy tears from spilling out of her eyes. She couldn’t think of anything she’d like more.

“Really?” Dean’s eyes pierced hers, the blue shining brightly and full of hope.

“Yes, yes, yes!”

He leaped to his feet and scooped her up in his arms, twirling her around until she couldn’t stop laughing. As proposals went, it was nothing like she’d expected, yet it was even better than she could have imagined.

“Married,” spluttered Phil. “What? You’ve only just—” He caught her fierce glare, and his eyes widened. “Ah yes, right. Of course. Butting out now. So, um...congratulations.” He stepped forward and gave her a peck on the cheek before reaching for Dean’s hand, the one attached to the arm supporting her legs, to shake it.



***



Dean had to be dreaming. Either that or he’d entered the twilight zone or something. Tilly wobbled precariously in his arms and started to fall, his grip on her as shaky as his grip on reality. His reflexes kicked in, and he dropped Phil’s hand in time to latch on to her, lifting her back up and hoping she hadn’t noticed.

No such luck. She took one look at his face and burst out laughing. The deep, throaty sound made his heart flutter, and he half dropped her again, just for the fun of it, and she laughed even harder. Nothing was going to wipe the childish grin off his face.

“I’ll just go and...um...grab a shower.” Phil drifted toward the doorway and then raced up the stairs.

Alone at last, Dean carried her to the work surface. He sat her down on it and turned her to face him. “Did you really mean it? You’ll marry me?”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and yanked him down to her level. “I will,” she said, looking him right in the eyes before kissing him.

What started out as an innocent kiss grew deeper, rapidly turned into a tornado. She moaned into his mouth and wrapped her legs around his hips, grinding against him. Sparks obscured his vision, glittering behind his eyes. He ached to be inside her, but Phil was upstairs and could come back at any moment.

“We probably shouldn’t,” he said, hating himself for saying so.

“No, you’re probably right.” Her voice was husky and breathy at the same time. He managed to resist for all of about three seconds. She was too damned irresistible.

Instead of walking away and cooling off, he lifted her down to the floor and discovered how much easier her jeans were to maneuver when they were dry, while she made short work of the drawstring on his trousers. Sliding his hands back up her legs, he dipped his fingers inside, but she pushed his hand away, giving him a shake of her head.

Tilly turned away from him and leaned her elbows on the worktop. She looked at him over her shoulder, her eyebrow quirked and her eyes glazed and dark, a coy smile playing on her lips. A sure sign that she was up to something. Her delicate yet determined hand reached back for him, rubbing him against her opening, and then she impaled herself onto him so fast he nearly exploded.

“Witch,” he gasped, struggling for breath. A giggle escaped her lips as she rose up onto her toes, arching her back to rock against him, fast and demanding. Liberated. Her breasts bounced and swayed, unsupported, hypnotizing him.

He was torn between spooning her body with his so he could cradle them or gripping her hips so that he could drive into her harder. Her breaths grew more ragged, almost panting, and her body was already tightening, gripping him. Her hips won. She was so close already, and she was bringing him with her.

Her head dropped, and she used her arms to muffle her cries as she shuddered in release, her muscles pulsing around him, and he couldn’t hold on anymore. It was like his body was made for her and hers for him, perfectly in sync.

“I love you.” It felt good to say it, to get the words out in the open and set them free. A lifetime with Tilly wasn’t nearly long enough. The sooner she was his wife the better. Electricity pulsed through him as an idea took hold. “Hey, do you have a passport?”

She eased up to standing and turned to face him, her head tilted and her brow creased as though trying to pick the thought from his brain. “Yes,” she said, turning her answer into a question.

“Good.” He dragged his trousers up, tied the cord, and bent down to ease hers back up her slender legs. It was going to take some planning, but the next time they made love, he wanted her to be his wife.

“So?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

She pouted when he didn’t elaborate, looking too adorable. He pulled her into his arms and dropped a kiss on the end of her nose. “I need to do some research first.” Before he could even contemplate putting a ring on her finger, she needed to know exactly what she was getting into. He needed to give her one last chance to back out. And that meant telling her everything.