Home for Christmas: New Adult Holiday Dark Suspense Romance (9 page)

“Yessss, good,” he encouraged her when she cupped her breasts in her hands, her fingers rubbing lightly over her nipples.

Her eyes were half-closed and she could only make out the shadow of him beneath her. He was thrusting up into her now and she slowed her own movements, letting him rock her, knead and press and mold her, his easy rhythm slowly flooding her with feeling. “Don’t stop.”

“No,” he agreed, and she felt that easy, pleasant, mellow feeling located somewhere in her belly begin to swell deliciously as he pressed deeply into her, his thumb moving in faster and faster circles on her clit. “Are you ready, sweetheart?”

She gasped, nodded, and closed her eyes. Her fingers pinched her nipples hard now as those sweet waves of pleasure began to roll, fluttering pulses that seemed to pull him deeper inside of her and then unfurl outward through her limbs, leaving her floating, drifting, flying.

She collapsed onto him, shivering at the touch of his hands moving lightly up and down her back, tasting joyful tears mixed with the coppery taste of her torn lip. She couldn’t stop herself from weeping, feeling overwhelmed, the well-traveled pathways of her usual neural networks completely dark, new ones opening up like lightning flashes, jolting her alive.

He wiped at her tears, kissing her wet face. “This is where we started, I think.” He chuckled.

His soft kisses grew passionate, his gentle hands pressing her body more firmly against him, and she could feel him, still fully aroused inside of her. She sat up, wiping at her tears, and his hands roamed the front of her, pushing the golden curtains of her hair aside to reveal her breasts. He groaned when she slid him out of her, the wet heat of him enormous in her hand, and groaned again as she made her way down his body.

“Your mouth,” he murmured, concern in his voice. He reached his fingers out to brush over bruises, but she waved him away, wanting this, even if it made her sore.

She kissed the tip of him, her tongue sliding over the head, tasting her own sticky wetness. She looked up, her eyes searching for his as her mouth slid along his length. His hands went to her hair in response, guiding her, pressing himself into her deeply, seeming to ask her to take him fully, and she did, wanting more. She gagged a little and she felt him ease up, but she pressed down again, feeling the responding thrust of him into her mouth, short little strokes that rubbed the tip against the back of her throat.

She moaned around his cock, sliding her hand down to touch herself and using her other hand to pull his skin taut, grazing up the underside of his shaft and then tickling her tongue around the ridges and edges. Ginny delighted in the hardness and softness all at once.

She explored him, feathering little kisses at the tip, tasting his pre-cum and rubbing it over her lips, moving them back down the underside, leaving a sweet, sticky trail. She enjoyed the feel, and sight of him, looking up the length of his cock and seeing it glistening and beginning to spill over as she licked his balls.

Her mouth found him again, unable to resist the throb and swell of him, slick with her juices and saliva and his own pre-cum now. He was grunting a little with every thrust into her throat, and she moaned with lust, the feel of him moving in her mouth making her hungry, even eager.

They did this dance for a long time, how long she didn’t know, time seemed to disappear altogether. It was long enough that her mouth was aching and sore and her fingers, buried between her swollen pussy lips, were prunish from the wetness. He stopped her occasionally, breathing hard and urging her down to stillness until his pubic hair tickled her nose before releasing her to suck him anew.

“Ahh, Ginny, God... I need you,” he said, his voice rough and harsh.

She eased her mouth off him, blowing on the shaft and then the tip, from warmth to coolness, teasing him. He growled as he moved to pull her up. Nick rolled her underneath him and searched her wetness for entry. It was found first with his fingers, then with his cock.

She gripped him, pitched into bliss, riding his fierce, driving momentum, and she found herself skidding toward some steep chasm that made her heady with anticipation. It felt like falling into nothing and everything all at once.

“I can’t...” he gasped against her ear, but her head was buzzing and his words were drowned, lost in the divine, slippery wet friction at the exquisite place their bodies were joined.

Her body heard his urgency, foresaw his imminent release, and responded to him as if the force of his cock into her flesh was a demand. She wrapped herself around him, digging her heels into the small of his back. She clung, tumbling with him into some abyss, as she felt him buck and shudder against her. Instead of plunging to what she felt might be her death, she did something unexpected. She soared, finding herself flowing, rising and rolling, lifted and awash with the whirling, drifting glide of flight, and she rode it out as if she had wings.

“Am I still dreaming?” she asked him as their breathing slowed. Their bodies were slick and slippery with a wetness that cooled them in the transition from passion to sleep.

He rolled to his side, his eyes lingering on her before conceding to her tug and letting her pull the covers up to her chin.

“Do you want to be dreaming?” His gaze was soft as he touched her bruised and battered lip and cheek with his finger.

“Maybe.” She winced, remembering, grateful that for a few blissful moments she had forgotten. She pulled the covers over with her as she rolled away from him. He sighed as he slid behind her, his arm heavy across her ribs, but she didn’t care. “I guess I’ll know if I wake up here tomorrow, won’t I?”

“Maybe.” He fitted her hips against his.

She heard his breathing grow deep and even, cool against her cheek where her tears fell and then pooled at the hollow of her throat. She didn’t even know why she was crying, but the tears kept coming even after she slipped toward sleep.

When she woke, it felt like Christmas morning. It wasn’t, but she’d never felt so safe and warm and utterly calm. The bed was soft and inviting. The sound of Nick downstairs, banging pots and pans in the kitchen, made her smile. For a moment, it all disappeared. She didn’t think about the past few weeks, the cold, the hunger, hiding and sleeping on the streets. She didn’t think about Brody looking for her, about him catching her in the alleyway. She didn’t think about the boys who had robbed the video store, who had clearly been watching, waiting for her to return so they could recoup their spoils.

In that moment, when she opened her eyes to the slant of morning light, none of that existed. She was just grateful to be breathing, alive, safe and warm. The night before had been one of the best and worst of her life. It was hard to reconcile that paradox, but as she stared up at the ceiling, she found herself thinking of Nick. Of his smile. His kindness. He’d been the one who left her peanut butter. The Scrunchie. He’d been watching, the whole time, but instead of stalking her, he’d been trying to make sure she was safe. Fed. Warm.

She got out of bed, finding her clothes folded on the dresser, washed and dried. Even her panties. A slow smile spread across her face, remembering the look in his eyes when she’d accidentally flung her panties out of her bag at him. She got dressed slowly—she was stiff and sore from the attack the night before—wondering how much Nick knew.

Ginny’s backpack was sitting next to her clothes on the dresser. Her heart racing, she rifled through it, finding the little zipper pocket inside, where the SD memory card was hidden. There were actually three of them, but only one had the incriminating evidence on it. The other two were smaller and blank. She hadn’t gotten to filling those for her project for the one community college class Brody had allowed her to take. She hadn’t finished her project at all. Everyone else would be making their presentations before the semester ended for the holiday, but not her.

“Nick?” she called as she came down the stairs.

She found him flipping pancakes in the kitchen. The table was set, milk poured.

“Morning, angel.” He smiled as she walked toward him, standing at the stove. “Hope you’re hungry.”

“Are you kidding me?” she scoffed. “When have you known me
not
to be hungry?”

“Good point.” He smiled, sliding fluffy, golden pancakes onto a plate already filled with them. “I was going to come wake you with a kiss. Like sleeping beauty.”

His gaze fell to her mouth and she smiled, putting her arms around his neck.

“Well I’m not sleeping anymore, but I wouldn’t say no to that kiss.”

He kissed her, pancakes still in hand, his mouth soft, making her yearn for more.

“Thank you, Nick,” she breathed, trying not to let her eyes fill with tears. “You’ve been… very good to me.”

“I intend to keep on being very good to you.” His eyes searching hers.

She took a seat at the table and waited for him to put pancakes on her plate before slathering them with butter and syrup. He watched her eat, looking thoughtful.

“Stop it,” she finally said, taking a cold gulp of milk.

“Stop what?”

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” He gave her a quizzical smile, chewing a bite of pancakes.

“Like you’re looking for some happy ever after I might have hidden up my sleeve.” She pointed her fork at him. “You can’t fix this.”

“Ginny, you’re wrong.” He frowned. “I know you’ve had a bad experience with a cop…”

“A bad experience?” she choked, her eyes watering. “That’s an understatement. The man was my stepfather, Nick.”

“I know.” His eyes darkened at the thought. “Ginny, I’m sorry. If I’d known…”

“No one knew.” Her jaw tightened. “And no one is going to know. I’m leaving. And you can’t stop me.”

“Where are you going to go?”

“I can’t tell you that.” She shrugged.

“You said they took your bus ticket,” he reminded her. Damn, the man had a memory like a steep trap. “Where was it to?”

“You swear…” She swallowed. “You swear you won’t tell?”

“You want me to cross my heart and hope to die?”

“Maybe.”

“Fine.” He rolled his eyes, tracing his finger in an x-shape over his heart. “I swear. On my life. On this badge.”

“California,” she said finally. “I want to go to art school out there. I’m leaving the day after Christmas.”

“Why did you wait?” He puzzled. “Why are you here? In town, I mean?”

“I didn’t have the money for the ticket… before… ” She didn’t want to tell him about Maggie.

“Where did you get the money?”

“It kind of just… fell into my hands.” She didn’t want to tell him about the robbery either. About what she’d done with the money.

“So why after Christmas? If you’re afraid Brody is going to find you, why didn’t you hop on a bus right away?”

“It was cheaper if I bought it a week in advance,” she told him. “I figured, I’d waited this long… what was a few more days?”

“He’s not going to stop looking for you,” he said softly.

“I know.” She felt that with every breath. “But I have someone helping me. There’s this network. A domestic violence shelter, sort of an underground railroad? I’ve been talking to a woman online. She’s finding a family to take me in for a while, just until I get on my feet.”

“You set that all up, on your own?” He looked at her, surprised.

She nodded.

“Ginny…” he said softly.

“Stop looking for a happy ever after, okay?” She frowned at him.

“I just want to do the right thing.”

“Do you always do the right thing?” she asked.

“I try to,” he replied. “That’s what cops do, Gin. Most of us… we start out doing this because we just want to help people. I mean, my dad’s a cop, my grandfather was a cop…”

“I know.” Of course she knew. “Quite a legacy.”

“I don’t know if it’s easier or harder, because of it.” Nick shrugged. “My dad has always been a good cop. It’s not easy living up to, when your dad’s your boss.”

She longed to tell him, but she knew she couldn’t. How could she possibly?

“Well, Brody is definitely not a good cop.”

“Obviously.” He frowned. “Sometimes you just never know.”

“Things aren’t always what they seem.” It was the closest she could come to telling him the truth.

“So how are you going to make it to California now?” he asked quietly. He looked so sad at the thought, and her usual exhilaration about her plan had disappeared.

“Slowly.” She sighed. “Before I bought the ticket, Kit—that’s the woman online who’s been helping me—said she found a family in Ohio who could take me in for a week or so. I was just going to go from house to house… until I made it out.”

“You’ve been very brave, Ginny.”

“I did what I had to do.” She shrugged.

A knock on the door startled them both.

“Who is it?” she whispered, her face draining of color. She felt all the blood rush out of it.

“Probably just the mailman.” Nick stood, heading toward the living room. “Stay here.”

She did, frozen in place at the table. She heard voices, but it was a woman’s voice, not a man’s, and that filled her with relief. Not Nick’s father, then. As long as she could get out there without him ever knowing she was there, it would be okay.

“Well, what are partners for? It’s just not like you, Nick,” the woman’s voice came closer and Ginny stood, looking for the best place to hide. “I brought you some orange juice and some kale and some Echinacea. That should boost your immune system.”

Ginny walk halfway in the broom closet when the woman burst into the room carrying a bag of groceries. She was a pretty woman, wearing a uniform, her dark hair pulled back tight, away from her face. She eyed Ginny, half in and half out of the closet, both of them blinking in surprise.

“I told you, I’m fine, Suzanne,” Nick protested, coming in behind the woman, seeing Ginny standing there, eyes wide. “It’s just a touch of… something....”

“I see that.” Suzanne put the grocery bag down on the counter. “Who’s this?”

“I’m cleaning the house.” Ginny closed the door to the broom closet, broom in hand, and stood there, heart beating so fast in her chest she thought it might burst right there. “Just here to clean the house. I’ll get started, Mr. Santos. In the… um... .bathroom…”

She edged her way around Nick’s partner, recognizing her now. She was the woman in the photographs on the mantle. Still sitting on the mantle. This woman, this Suzanne, was clearly Nick’s partner—in more ways than one. A slow burn filled her chest, a growing feeling of jealousy, and she silently chastised herself. She didn’t have any reason—or right—to be jealous.

“Thanks,” Nick said, blinking in surprise as Ginny went past him.

Ginny saw Suzanne eyeing their dishes, half eaten pancakes still on their plates. At least I didn’t come down wearing just his shirt, she thought, locking herself in the downstairs bathroom. She could hear them talking still, the voices but not the words. She sat on the closed toilet lid, sitting there trembling. She needed to get out of there, as fast as she could. Maybe she could contact Kit online, see if the family would take her before Christmas.

She would miss saying goodbye to Maggie and the boys, which broke her heart, but if she had to do it, she would. She’d find a way. She always did.

“Ginny?” Nick’s voice, on the other side of the door. “Ginny, are you okay?”

“Is she gone?” Ginny asked, reaching a shaking hand out for the knob.

“She’s gone.”

Ginny opened the door, looking up at him, at the concerned look on his face.

“I’m sorry about that,” he apologized, reaching out to take her hand. His swallowed hers. “I didn’t think she would come by.”

“She’s…” Ginny swallowed. That jealous feeling was back. “She’s the woman on your mantle. She’s… your partner?”

“Just at work,” he smiled, pulling her against him. She let him. She felt safe there, in his arms. “We’re over, otherwise. She’s got a new boyfriend. Suzanne’s just… nosey.”

“Typical cop.” Ginny smirked, looking up at him, and he laughed.

“Come on, let’s go finish breakfast before it’s cold.”

But it was already cold. Ginny helped him clean up the plates, loading them into the dishwasher. Neither of them talked much, but she could tell he was thinking—about her, about Brody, about everything she’d told him. And she hadn’t even told him the half of it.

“Hey.” Nick took her into his arms, tilting her chin up so he could look at her. “Are you okay?”

“No.” She gave him a half-hearted smile. “Haven’t been okay in a long time. But I’m alive. That’s something.”

“I’m so sorry.” He frowned, putting his arms around her. “I wish I could make it better for you.”

“You can’t,” she whispered, shaking her head. It was the truth. No one could. There was no solution here. There was only one way out, and she had to take it. Soon.

“I can try.” He kissed the top of her head. “We need to make sure you’re safe, Ginny. And I don’t mean for the moment. I mean forever.”

“How do you propose to do that?” She glanced up, cocking her head at him, seeing the conflict there in his eyes. “Oh no. No, no, no. I’m not making any reports. I’m not talking to any more cops.”

“Ginny…” He sighed as a phone went off in his pocket. He let her go to reach in and retrieve it and she watched as he checked the message. “Shit.”

“What?” she frowned as he slipped his phone back into his pocket.

“They’re calling me in.” He made a face. “I’ve got to go.”

“But you called in sick?”

“They want everyone.” His brow knitted at he looked down at her. “Some sort of domestic disturbance. A hostage situation.”

“A what?” She gaped at him, shocked. “In Lewisonville?”

“Christmas can bring out the worst in people.” Nick took her by the upper arms, holding her out in front of him, his gaze serious, voice earnest. “Ginny, stay here. Please, just stay here. Don’t go anywhere. Don’t run off, okay? Will you promise me that?”

How could she possibly promise him that? She’d been looking for a way out, and here it was, like a Christmas miracle. She could slip away, get out of town, and he would never be able to find her again. No one would. So why did the thought make her feel so awful, so terribly sad?

“Ginny, please.” He moved his hands up to cup her face, searching her eyes. “I just found you again. I don’t want to lose you.”

His words sent little knives into her heart. She felt her eyes getting wet.

“Okay,” she breathed, trembling, going against her better judgment.

“You promise?” he urged.

“Yes,” she whispered, tilting her face up when he kissed her, his mouth bringing back the warm memory of the night before, how her body had responded to him, completely surprising her. This man kept surprising her, again and again.

It only took him five minutes to get into uniform. He kissed her again at the front door like he thought he might never see her again, despite her promise.