Kissing Under The Mistletoe: The Sullivans (Contemporary Romance) (28 page)

They were already kissing to seal their vows
by the time the priest declared them husband and wife, and as
applause rang through the centuries-old church, Jack knew that
theirs was a love that would transcend time.

Mary and Jack’s wedding reception was a
glorious blur of music and laughter and hugs and dancing and bites
of cake…and dozens upon dozens of stolen kisses from her new
husband that made her lips tingle and her heart race with joy.
Throughout the celebration, Jack almost never let go of Mary’s
hand, and as the sun fell lower in the sky, his gaze grew more
heated and full of love every time she looked in wonder at the man
who had just become her husband.

Jack was beyond gorgeous in his dark suit and
tie, and Mary couldn’t blame every woman at her wedding—even the
married ones—from drinking him in with clear appreciation. He’d
remembered to shave this morning, but his jaw was already covered
with a dark shadow.

When she’d seen him waiting for her at the
altar, her legs had nearly given out on her, and she’d had to cling
to her father’s arm for support. A moment later, she’d wanted to
pick up her skirts and run to him so that she could throw herself
into his arms.

Now, as they stood surrounded by everyone in
her hometown, and he moved his hand to the small of her back to
lightly stroke across the curve of her hips through her wedding
dress, she wanted badly to tangle her hands in his hair and yank
his tie off and kiss him until they were both breathless.

Mary Sullivan.
Love
had given her not only a new name…but a new future, as well.
Sullivans were determined and focused, loving and supportive. It
was exactly right that she should embark on her new future as a
Sullivan, and that the children they hoped to have in the near
future would grow up knowing they were loved and supported, no
matter what.

Mary had been very glad that Jack’s brother
Ethan had been able to come to support Jack as they’d made their
vows, even if he was an irrepressible flirt who would leave more
than one broken heart behind in Italy when he headed back to London
the following day. After a lifetime as an only child, she couldn’t
believe how blessed she was now to have a sister and four brothers,
and she couldn’t wait to finally meet his parents as their newest
daughter-in-law.

With Jack’s hand in hers and the love of the
friends she’d grown up with in every smile and hug and handshake,
Mary worked to push away her impatience to be alone with him. This
celebration was extremely important to her mother and father.
Surely she could continue to smile and chat with everyone for
another few hours without counting down every single second until
she could be alone with Jack again.

Taking a deep breath, she made certain her
smile remained firmly in place as one of her old friends from
school began to walk toward them. But before her friend was even
halfway across the reception hall, Jack lifted Mary into his
arms.

Only by sheer force of will did she stop
herself from laughing out loud. Her husband—
oh,
wasn’t that a beautiful word?—
didn’t stop to speak with
anyone, didn’t say any more thank-you’s or nice-to-meet-you’s, just
carried her through the reception hall, out the front door and down
the steps to the cobblestone street below.

“I was hoping you’d run out of patience
soon,” she confessed as he practically ran down the street toward
the small inn where they’d be spending their first night together
as husband and wife. Holding on even tighter to him, she buried her
face in the crook of his neck. He smelled like spice and heat and
the man she couldn’t live without.

During the ceremony, she’d loved how sweet
and gentle he’d been. Tonight, she loved his demanding passion as
he slid the old key into the lock and roughly opened the door,
kicking it shut behind them.

Despite the need she could feel rumbling
through every inch of her husband, he lowered her feet to the
ground with infinite care. Every inch of her body that pressed
against his ached for more.

“This is the most beautiful dress I’ve ever
seen,” he told her in a voice made raw with emotion. “The only
reason I’m not going to rip it off you tonight is so that our
daughter can wear it one day.”

“I’ve gotten much better with a needle and
thread this week. I can stitch it back together.”

His eyes flared with heat, but instead of
tearing the fabric from her in one swift move, he gently turned her
in his arms so that her back was to him. The brush of his
fingertips across her spine and shoulders as he lifted her dark
hair away from the long row of small pearl buttons made her
shiver.

He slid one of the buttons free. “Beautiful.”
Another two came loose, and he leaned forward to press his lips to
the small patch of skin he’d just bared.
“Sei
bellissima.”

Mary’s breath stuttered in her chest as he
worked his way down the row of buttons with steady hands that also
teased and caressed. How, she wondered, was she ever going to make
it through his wedding night seduction in one piece?

Finally—
finally!—
he
slid the bodice of her dress off over her shoulders, and his large,
strong hands stroked her muscles, cherishing every inch of her
skin.

Needing more, needing
everything,
Mary shifted her torso and arms so that the
dress slipped all the way down to her waist. Groaning against the
curve of her neck, Jack’s hands immediately slid around to cup her
breasts. Arching her head against his shoulder, she turned her face
so that their mouths could meet in a heated kiss. Her breasts felt
heavy and sensitive against his fingertips until—
thank God—
he was turning her in his arms again with his
hands on her hips and dropping his head to her chest to take first
one peak, and then the other, into his mouth. Wild, sweet love
poured from husband to wife and wife to husband as she arched
closer.

Even as his lips worked magic over her
breasts, his deft fingertips made short work of the rest of the
pearl buttons at her hips, and moments later the beautiful silk and
lace wedding gown was pooled at her feet.

“Were you—” He ran his hands over her bare
hips and then the delicate white garters that held up her silk
stockings. He was clearly stunned—and extremely aroused—at the
realization that she hadn’t been wearing any panties beneath her
wedding dress. “You didn’t—”

Though they wouldn’t be opening their gifts
for each other until the following day, Mary had wanted to give
herself to Jack as an early present. “Merry Christmas.”

He dragged her hard against him at the same
moment that he crushed his mouth to hers. And then they were
falling back onto the bed, and his mouth and hands were seemingly
everywhere at once.

Loving words spilled from their lips in a
mixture of English and Italian.

“I adore you.
”

“Ti amo.”

“You’re mine.
”

They’d shared their first kiss under the
mistletoe. Wearing only the tiara of mistletoe leaves and berries,
Mary reached for Jack and drew him tightly against her as they came
together for the first time as husband and wife.

* * *

When she woke cradled in his arms hours
later, there was a small wrapped box on her pillow. Outside the
curtains, moonlight streamed in over them, and the cold winter
breeze rustled the leaves on the lemon and orange trees in the
courtyard beyond their private suite.

Jack shifted them so that the pillows were
behind her as he handed her the box. “You gave me your gift
earlier, now it’s time for me to give you mine.” When she tore at
the paper, he laughed and said, “So I was right—that
is
how you open presents.”

Mary lifted the top from the box and, when
she saw his gift, the tears she’d barely managed to hold at bay all
day finally spilled down her cheeks. Lifting the delicate Christmas
ornament out of the box, she marveled at the workmanship and
artistry that had gone into creating the porcelain angel.

“That day in the diner, when you called me
Angel
for the first time—” She looked up at
him through the tears that clung to her eyelashes. “I was already
yours.”

“And I was yours.”

The clock in the square struck midnight as
they reached for each other again to start the first new day as
husband and wife with heat, passion…and unconditional love.

A love that would last forever.

January

Mary laughed out loud as Jack swung her up
into his strong arms on the sidewalk in front of their new home in
Palo Alto, a suburb thirty minutes south of the city and five
minutes to his new office building in the heart of Silicon Valley.
She wound her arms around his neck and marveled, for what had to be
the thousandth time, that he was really hers.

“Our new neighbors are probably looking out
from behind their curtains wondering about the crazy new couple on
the block.”

“Crazy in love,” he said, before
really
giving the neighbors something to talk about by
kissing her passionately.

Breathless by the time he lifted his mouth
from hers, it took her a few moments to realize he was carrying her
up the front walk. He took the key from her and unlocked the
door.

“Ready to move in, Mrs. Sullivan?”

Lord, how she loved him…and it thrilled her
to pieces every time she realized she was now a Sullivan, too.

This time she was the one kissing him in full
sight of the neighborhood before replying, “Take me home,
Jack.”

Her heart filled with joy as he carried her
over the threshold and into the living room. Slowly, he put her
down, making sure her curves slid against his hard muscles in as
many places as possible.

“When are the movers coming?” she asked in a
voice made husky with the need that just grew stronger every day
they were together.

“In an hour.”

She was already pulling his shirt up as she
said, “That’s plenty of time to christen our house properly.”

Jack’s hands got just as busy stripping off
her clothes and they were both nearly naked when he remembered to
lock the front door and draw the drapes. As he moved back across
the room to her, yet again, Mary was struck by his incredible male
beauty. Every time she saw his broad shoulders, rippling abdominal
muscles and long, strong legs, she lost a little more of her
self-control.

A beat before he reached her, she leaped on
him, wrapping her arms and legs around him. He responded by
lowering her to the soft carpet…and kissing her senseless.

An hour later, when the movers came, they
were fully dressed again and giddy as two naughty children who had
gotten away with sneaking into the cookie jar. Mary directed the
placement of the furniture while Jack supervised the unpacking of
his home office so that it very closely resembled the old garage he
and his partners had worked out of for so long.

After the movers left, Mary and Jack walked
hand in hand out through the French doors to the backyard. He
gathered her against his chest. “One day, I’m going to build a tree
house with our children in that big oak.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder as
she looked up at the sky through the leaves. “And we can have
Sunday lunch under the shade of the branches, just like my mother
used to put on every weekend when I was a child.”

It no longer hurt to think about Italy, and
Jack loved to hear her tell stories in Italian as he became more
and more fluent in her native language. But though she’d loved
rediscovering her childhood town during Christmas, she knew she was
exactly where she was supposed to be.

Mary Sullivan was finally home.

February

Jack had been making Valentine’s Day plans
for weeks. As soon as Mary woke, there would not only be dozens of
roses waiting for her in every room of the house, but he’d also
have a plate of piping-hot heart-shaped pancakes ready to serve to
her in bed. They’d follow that up with a leisurely boat trip up the
Bay into San Francisco, where they’d have dinner at a swanky
restaurant and then close out the night dancing.

He was going to give her a perfect—and
memorable—Valentine’s Day.

Jack was wrist deep in pancake batter when
the phone rang. He quickly snatched it up before it could wake
Mary. Five minutes later, he was cursing as he hung up. Somehow the
roses he’d ordered had been delivered to the wrong house, and the
woman who’d received them had been so overjoyed that her husband
had begged the delivery guy to pretend he’d brought them to the
right house. The florist promised to bring Mary’s roses soon…that
was, if they could locate another supply of them.

A beat later, the rain that had been
threatening all night long started coming down, along with a harsh
wind. So much for the romantic boat ride. Neither of them would
enjoy turning green around the gills.

Okay, so he’d make sure to serve her the best
pancakes in the world, and then he’d improvise the rest.

Fifteen minutes and a dozen inedible pancakes
later—
why the heck wouldn’t the darned batter
cooperate?
—Mary walked into the kitchen.

Her eyes went wide at the unexpected—and
enormous—mess. “Jack, if you were hungry, you could have woken me
up to make you pancakes.”

“I was going to surprise you with breakfast
in bed for Valentine’s Day.” He pulled one of the awful things from
the frying pan and held it up.

His wife always took his breath away, but
never more than when she was gazing at him with such love in her
eyes.

“Oh, Jack, they’re shaped like hearts. That’s
so sweet.”