Christmas is Cancelled

chapter Four





A knock at the door pulled Tilly from her dream, and it took her a split second to realize where she was. She didn’t remember making it back to the spare bedroom, but she must have; otherwise, she wouldn’t be lying toasty warm beneath the quilt. She tried to open her eyes, but her eyelids were glued shut. Odd, seeing as she didn’t feel like she’d had any sleep and was still utterly exhausted.

There was another gentle knock on the bedroom door, and it cracked open. Even if she hadn’t remembered where she was, the smell wafting through the open doorway would have told her instantly. She’d recognize Dean’s scent anywhere. Rubbing her eyes, she was able to pry them open slightly, and the light spilling through the curtains told her it was morning.

A hand appeared around the edge of the door cautiously followed by a head. Seeing her awake, he smiled. “Morning, sleepyhead.”

“Morning.” She shuffled over to make room for him to sit down. A gorgeous hunk of a man in loose T-shirt and drawstring pajama trousers with bare feet was always a good start to the day in her book. And this particular one was even bearing a mug of tea. As soon as he’d put the tea down, he sat in the space she’d made and leaned over to give her a kiss on the cheek. “Merry Christmas.”

A flutter of excitement rushed through her, she couldn’t wait to see his face when he opened his present. “Merry Christmas, Dean,” she said, throwing her arms around his neck.

Caught off guard, he lost his balance and ended up on top of her, flattening her against the bed. She gasped as the flutter whooshed into an inferno, sweeping through her and burning her from the inside, until her whole body was aflame within a matter of seconds. Before she could stop herself, her body reacted instinctively, pressing itself tight against him with only the quilt separating them.

He cursed. “Oh no, not again...”

His low groan vibrated through her chest, and then he closed his arms around her, holding her tight beneath him. Spurred on, she traced a hand down his back until it found the taut curve of his buttocks. The groan became a growl, and then his lips were on hers, devouring her, his tongue plundering her mouth.

She responded almost brutally, kissing him, tasting him, nibbling his soft lips, and dipping her tongue inside his mouth. Her body writhed beneath him, needing more, and he somehow heard her unspoken plea. Breaking off the kiss, he took his weight on one arm and wrenched the quilt away. She was wearing nothing but a silky nightdress that had ridden up her thighs.

His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he gazed at her. Gingerly, as though afraid she would break or disappear, he reached for her. He started at her cheekbone; his calloused fingers grazed her skin, skimming her collarbone, the side of her breast through her nightie, her waist, her hips. Tilly could do nothing but whimper and shudder at his touch.

Sliding his hand lower, he gripped the hem of her nightdress and halted. His gaze pierced hers, seeking permission. Oh, God, yes. She gave him a tiny nod and shifted so he could draw it up and pull it over her head. Without taking his gaze off her, he tossed her nightie onto the floor. His eyes widened and grew darker still, only the blue flecks still visible, sharpened like brilliant, cut sapphires.

“My turn.” Her voice came out as barely more than a breath. She slid her hands down his chest and pulled the loose T-shirt up. He had a torso to rival Adonis and a smattering of hair in the center of his toned chest. There was a hint of a summer tan remaining, and his skin was flushed, but looking at him wasn’t enough. Yanking the T-shirt up higher, he shrugged it off, and she let it fall to the floor.

Soft and smooth, his skin was burning up beneath her touch. He shivered and closed his eyes as her hands ran up his stomach, his chest and over the top of his shoulders. His shoulder blades were broader than the span of both of her hands. Pressing her nails into his back, she ran her fingers across his shoulder blades and down the solid planes of his back. He collapsed back on top of her, pinning her arms at her sides.

“You little minx, I’ll get you back for that.” His voice was deep and husky, and it did funny things to her. Dipping his head, he nibbled the length of her jaw and down her throat. He hadn’t shaved yet, and the sharpness of his overnight growth chafed her skin while his soft lips teased and soothed her.

Tilly sucked in a breath, biting her bottom lip to stop from crying out. She wriggled, trying to move, but he was too strong; she could do nothing but lie there. Closing her eyes, she gave in to the delicious sensations sweeping through her. Dean’s lips moved lower, across her collarbone, and then his tongue joined in.

When he reached the tender skin of her breast, her body stiffened. As he sucked her nipple into his mouth, a guttural sound forced its way past her lips. He chuckled before moving to the other side, and her body bucked beneath him as his tongue teased the peak. “I win,” he murmured.

“No, I win,” she would have said, had she been able to speak.

He released her arms and used his hands to rove over the length of her body. Free at last, her fingers ran wild, tangling in his hair, then moving on. His muscles rippled beneath his skin as his gentle touch skimmed over her hip. She bent her knee, needing him to reach all of her.

He cupped her backside, stroked the outside of her leg, then returned back up the inside. His own need for her pressed into her thigh, still trapped beneath his lithe body. As he drew closer to the apex of her thighs, her breathing grew more ragged, and her body trembled.

“Dean!” She couldn’t help crying out when he finally touched her, his fingers slipping inside.

Dragging herself into position directly underneath him, she reached for the waistband of his drawstring trousers. Too tight to slip down over his hips, her fingers brushed against the length of him as she fumbled with the knot. She’d almost undone it when a high-pitched, keening sound blasted out from downstairs, pounding her eardrums.

“Shit!” Dean leaped off her and raced down the stairs. Bereft, she fought the urge to scream. Of all the goddamn, lousy, rotten timing. Leaving her nightie where it had been discarded, she clambered off the bed and followed him downstairs.

The noise grew louder still. She had to cover her ears when she walked into the kitchen. He was smacking the smoke alarm with a tea towel, giving her a delicious eyeful of his muscles, then on the fourth whack it went quiet. “What happened?” She could have been shouting or whispering and been none the wiser with all the ringing in her ears.

“Pardon?” He turned to her, and his nostrils flared when he took in the sight of her, naked and leaning against the door frame. He dropped the tea towel and held on to the worktop instead.

She grinned and crossed the room, “I said, ‘what happened?’”

“Ah well, you see...” He bent down to retrieve the tea towel, using it to cover up. “Before I got so distracted, I’d come to let you know breakfast was almost ready.”

“Oops, sorry.”

“No, you’re not, but we probably should try and eat what I can salvage. I have big plans for you this morning.”

“I’m guessing from the look on your face, you’re not referring to the bedroom,” she said, hitting him with a coy smile and striking her best sexy-but-natural pose.

His face went through a range of emotions, from shock to desire and then landed on regret. He swallowed and averted his eyes. “Alas, no.”

She dropped her pose, pretty sure she was pouting. “So what are these big plans then?”

“It’s a surprise,” he said, keeping his back to her as he carried on cooking. “But I hope you’ve got something suitable for walking?” She didn’t say anything but knew her incredulous stare spoke for her when he next hazarded a glance. He shrugged. “It’s a Christmas tradition of mine.”

“Right.” As explanations went, she’d had better.

“This is practically done, would you like to borrow my robe?”

What? Her eyes smarted, and she ran for the stairs. “No thanks, I have my own.” Taking them two at a time, she closed the bedroom door behind her and flung herself onto the bed. If she’d been hoping to pick up where they’d left off, she couldn’t have been more mistaken. With her head buried in the pillow, she screamed. Talk about frustrated. Years she’d fantasized about him and then just when they were finally getting it on—

“Breakfast is ready,” Dean’s voice called up the stairs.

Yeah. Exactly that. Another interruption. Maybe she was jinxed? Breathing deeply as she sat up, she caught the faint trace of his scent. Proof it hadn’t been a dream at least. She threw her nightie back on and dug her big fluffy robe out of her case.

“I’m back,” she said, tying the knot with a vicious tug.

“Great, let’s eat.” Disheveled and still looking unfairly sexy as hell, he turned round with two monster-size breakfasts in his hands. She bit her lower lip and sat down.

“We could do with leaving soon, do you think you could be ready in the next twenty minutes?”

“Sure, no problem.” With a bit of luck, she’d have grown a backbone by then too.



***



“Are you ready yet?” Dean called up the stairs.

“Nearly,” Tilly called back. “Have I got time to brush my teeth?”

“Yeah, okay,” he said, trying not to sound impatient, but he needed to get out of the house, clear his head, get some exercise. Twice he’d lost control, and twice he’d been saved by the bell. He couldn’t risk a third.

“I’m ready now.” She bounced down the stairs, exuberant and smiling, much more like her old self. His heart picked up at the sight of her. She made jeans, T-shirt, and a lumberjack shirt look incredible, each item hugging her curves and begging for his attention. He was impressed by her coat and hiking boots, too, even if they didn’t look particularly well used.

“Here, put this on too.” He handed her a jumper, and she pulled it on without argument. Whether it was an effort to keep her warm or simply to cover her up was anyone’s guess. “Let’s go,” he said, ushering her out the front door as soon as her coat was done up.

“Bloody hell!” Her eyes widened as she took in the view. “You weren’t kidding!”

“Stunning, isn’t it?” Frost-covered hills rose and fell as far as he could see, sparkling in the weak winter sunshine. He couldn’t have picked a better scene to introduce her to the place he’d made his home.

“It’s like something off a Christmas card!” she said through chattering teeth, her breath forming clouds in front of her face.

“Come here,” he said, lifting his arm up for her to tuck into. She practically ran to him. As he draped his arm over her shoulder, her arm slipped around his waist. “You’ll soon warm up, Basmati.” He was certainly feeling warmer already, and it had nothing to do with shared body heat.

“I wish you’d stop calling me that.”

“Why? What’s wrong with calling you Basmati?”

“My name is Matilda, or Tilly for short. It’s really not so difficult.”

“It’s not difficult in the slightest, Tilly,” he said, putting extra emphasis on the name to prove it. “But where’s the fun in calling you the same as everybody else?”

Her mouth twitched. She knew damn well he was only teasing her but couldn’t help falling into his trap. “Can’t you at least come up with something nicer than a bag of rice then?”

“Matilda... Tilda... Basmati rice. Come on, it works, even you’ve got to admit it?”

The corners of her mouth turned up a fraction farther, but she fought valiantly. She seemed to have forgotten about the cold at any rate. “Please? It isn’t exactly flattering.”

“No, I suppose not.” He paused and pretended to consider. “Okay, I’ll think about it. But on one condition...” Her nearly smile vanished, and her jaw tensed. With all that going on, she probably didn’t even realize she was digging her fingers into him as well.

“What’s that then?”

“Can you tell me what on earth you were doing on my living room floor in the early hours of the morning?”

“Huh?” She stopped in her tracks and stared up at him, her eyes full of confusion, suggesting she’d been expecting a different question. He could see her mind racing to catch up and had a ringside seat to see the moment realization dawned. “You put me to bed, didn’t you?”

She already knew the answer, but he replied anyway. “Yes, I did.”

Her face flamed until she was clashing with her cute pink woolly hat. A hat which was well-worn, driving home her brown hair. She’d obviously been dying it for some time which only made him miss her red hair even more.

“So what were you doing downstairs in the early hours of the morning?” she said, flicking her right eyebrow up at him and challenging him.

Him and his big mouth. “I needed a glass of water,” he said, after only the slightest hesitation. “And you didn’t answer my question.”

“I was hoping to see Father Christmas,” she retorted, staring him right in the eyes as she said it.

Dean sighed; she’d seen right through his lie. “Fine... I didn’t sleep very well.” And that was putting it mildly. His heart had stopped beating when he’d stumbled down the stairs and found her collapsed on the floor beside the Christmas tree. Prone and lifeless, the nightmare he was running from had come to life in front of him like the ghost of Christmas Past.

“What are you doing?”

“Hmm?” He shook his head, trying to clear the image.

“Are you checking my pulse?” Her words sliced through the fog in his head.

“Shit!” He dropped his fingers from her neck and tried to cover his slip with a smile, but his mouth wouldn’t budge. Why didn’t she move? Say something? She just stood there, studying him, her brows drawn in question. Where was the usual snarky retort?

His collar grew tight under the weight of her stare, cutting off his airways, but he didn’t dare loosen the fabric and let the air back in. It was like being back in court, standing in the box as he waited for the verdict, except this time Tilly was both prosecution and jury.

“But I was only asleep,” she said finally, not quite a question but not a reprimand either.

“I panicked, okay?” he blurted, the words bursting out of him.

“Why?”

It sounded ridiculous in the cold light of day, but seeing her flat out on the floor in the dead of night... “It brought back some bad memories,” he said, unable to stop a shudder as he tried to force the words out. “My mum—”

“Stop!” She put her finger over his lips, silencing him. “It’s okay, you don’t have to explain. But if you ever do want to talk, I’m here for you.” Her eyes were pools of liquid emerald, beckoning him to dive right in.

“Thank you.” He really should tell someone; his secrets were eating away at him to the point he now dreaded Christmas. He’d almost confided in Phil once, but even though they’d been best friends, something had told Dean to hold back. There was no little voice inside his gut as far as she was concerned though.

“Thanks, Bee.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze, and she stiffened under his hand.

“Bee?”

“Just trying out some new nicknames.”

“Great, but do I get any say in the final decision?”

“Nope.” She pretended to groan, trying to lighten the mood, and he appreciated the reprieve. Something unspoken had passed between them, bringing them closer. But if...when...he shared his burden, would she understand or would she walk away? All rhetorical, of course.

Red in the face and puffing after an hour, she obviously wasn’t used to hills, yet she hadn’t complained once. The walk was taking nearly twice as long as usual because she kept stopping to take photos. The light that shone in her eyes was as inspiring as the backdrop, and he couldn’t help himself, delaying their progress even more by pointing out all the different sights she’d have otherwise missed.

He didn’t care if it took them all day if she kept rewarding him with more of her tender touches and huge smiles, warm enough to melt the frost. And to think he’d considered going off at first light without her. After her late night, he’d have been back long before she woke up, and she wouldn’t ever have realized he’d been gone. Thankfully, it had only been a fleeting thought—he wouldn’t have missed this for the world.

The path narrowed to a single track, and he gestured for her to take the lead. All the tracks looked the same, and it was easy to get lost. The only flaw in his plan was that he had no choice in where to look. Right there, almost at eye level, her pert ass in her skinny jeans took full command of his eyes, proving too much competition for the hills and wildlife he knew like the back of his hand. The memory of her naked body floated unbidden into his mind, the milky skin hidden beneath the coarse denim, soft and warm and—

He landed in a heap, his foot trapped in a hole. It served him right for not looking where he was going.

“Are you okay?” she called out, racing back to him to help free his ankle.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He stood up and brushed the dirt off his hands and knees, trying to brush away the memory of her hands and the vision of making love to her at the same time. “Is your leg okay, by the way?”

“My leg?”

“Isn’t there a big gash on it?” He hadn’t spotted it when he’d carried her up to bed, but he couldn’t miss it when she’d been bared in all her glory in his kitchen.

“Oh that?” She flapped a hand in front of her. “It’s nothing.”

“Pleased to hear it, you’ll need your strength for this last stretch.” He couldn’t help but laugh at the trepidation written all over her face. “You’ll love it, I swear.”

“And you’re sure it’s better than sex would have been?” she asked, leveling him with a gaze that left him feeling dazed and exposed as if she’d been reading his mind again.

“Hell no,” his voice came out much deeper than usual, and his head was scrambled, making him say what was really on his mind. “It’s taking everything I’ve got not to brace you against a tree and have my wicked way with you.”

Her mouth fell open so he could see her pink tongue and the edges of her teeth as she closed the ground between them. Her eyes grew even darker, and the blood from his head rushed south. Using her teeth to remove her pink glove, she ducked her ice-cold fingers inside his coat and shirt.

“Which would be a bad thing because...”

His skin danced to her touch, and the blood pumping in his veins burst into flame, seeing off the goose bumps her fingers left in their wake as she trailed them over his chest. He closed his eyes and swallowed as her fingers passed over his stomach, moving lower, inch by painfully slow inch. Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead and his palms grew damp as his temperature soared.

“It would be a bad thing because—” His entire body jerked when her hand reached the fly of his jeans, stroking him, gripping him firmly from the outside.

“You were saying?” Her voice was smooth, sultry. His heart rate found another gear, and his body mutinied, but he clung on to control by the most slender of threads. Removing her hand was torture.

“I’m so sorry.” The words tasted vile in his mouth, and he let his head drop, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground to hide the moisture building up behind his lids. “I want to, believe me I do...but I can’t.”

It might well be over a decade since he’d made his ridiculous promise to Phil—it probably didn’t even count anymore—but if he didn’t keep his honor, there would be nothing else left for him. A promise was a promise.

“Is that a temporary ‘can’t’ or a forever ‘can’t’?” she asked, her voice sounding small, like she was trying not to cry. “Actually, no, don’t answer. I don’t think I can handle it right now.” She turned and stalked off along the track.

The rest of the walk passed in a strained silence except for the odd sniff to reach his ears. What he wouldn’t give to reach out to her, hold her tight, and tell her exactly how he felt. He would offer her the world if it were his to give. He’d have to make do with giving her a piece of his soul instead.

He’d never brought anyone else up here, but if anybody was going to appreciate what he’d come to think of as his sanctuary, then she would. He’d watched as, slowly but surely, she’d fallen in love with the landscape. Unfortunately, he’d been equally enthralled and just as helpless as, slowly but surely, he’d fallen deeper in love with the one woman he mustn’t have.

On the final ascent, he had to check his stride as a rush of adrenaline made him speed up. Catching her hand as it swung back behind her, they came to a halt. “Is this it?” she asked, casting her eyes around.

“No, not quite, it’s just over this ridge.”

“So why have we stopped?” She shook off his hand and set off again, but he caught her easily. She spun to face him, and the sight of her eyes, ringed with red, hit him like a punch to the gut.

“Do you trust me?” he asked, his hands trembling ever so slightly in his gloves until he got them back under control.

“What? Of course.” There wasn’t a single hint of hesitation or flicker of doubt in her eyes, only confusion and sadness.

“Thank you.” He brought her gloved hand to his lips and kissed it. Reaching for her shoulders, he spun her back around to face forward and then placed his hands over his eyes.

“What are you doing?”

“Just take it slow,” he whispered. Moving slowly together, she allowed him to lead her over the last few yards, and his stomach lurched. “Okay, you can look now...”