Santa's Pet (18 page)

I pick up the pile of plates and before I lower them into the water, a pair of hands takes them from me.

Ben puts the plates back on the counter and turns me around to face him. “I didn’t tell you the truth.”

“It’s okay. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“You have a right to know. We’ve been messing around, kissing, holding hands, even licking frosting off each other. I don’t want to mislead you.”

“None taken. I’m good.” I hug my arms and hold on tight, wishing a hole would open up under me and swallow me.

“You
are
good. Too good for a hookup.”

“Please, spare me. Okay? I get it.”

He dips a large finger over my lips. “Let me finish.”

“Sure, okay.” Why is it men assume I have no feelings, that I can take whatever they dish out? Just because my IQ is over one-hundred-fifty doesn’t mean I’m a robot only here to solve problems or make them happy.

It takes a moment before I realize what Ben’s saying.

“I didn’t tell you the truth, because I’m afraid you’re the one. Maybe I’m scaring you away. Maybe you won’t want to be here when I tell you how I really feel.”

“Wait, wait, back up. I’m the one for what?”

His face is pained, his eyes troubled and his brows scrunched. He swallows deeply and his hand trembles when he takes mine and squeezes. “The woman meant for me. The one I’ve been looking for all my life, not daring to believe she exists. The one I’ll love forever.”

What? My jaw slackens and my heart speeds as everything tilts on its axis. “You’re afraid I’m the one?”

“If you don’t want to be mine, yes.”

“You never asked.”
Could it be possible he’s falling for me too?

“Would you say ‘no?’”

“No, no.” I shake my head. But when he lowers his gaze, biting his lip, I add quickly, “I mean I wouldn’t say ‘no,’ not that I don’t want to be everything you mentioned.”

“Wait, too many negatives.” He holds both my hands and raises them to his lips, kissing them. “All I know is when I’m with you, I’m happy. I hope you feel the same way about me.”

“I do, Ben, except when you’re being grumpy.”

A tiny smile lifts his lips. “Then I’ll try not to be grumpy. Will you put up with me and be my sweetheart?”

“Sweetheart? What year is this?” Even though I complain outwardly, I’m beyond elated. Ben wants me for his own.

“Sorry, it’s this house. We seem to have traveled back in time. The thing is, I can’t think of a future without you. I’ll do anything for you, and I’ll protect your heart. Just say you’ll never turn your back on me.”

“Oh, Ben. I feel the same about you. I want you to be happy. I want you to be loved and feel secure with me. I’ll never turn my back on you, and I’ll try not to hurt you. I never want to lose touch with you, even though I know you’ll be gone after the holidays.”

“I don’t want to leave. I’ll try to get drafted locally.”

“You won’t be able to help it. It’s the life of an athlete. You can be drafted by any team or traded anywhere.”

“No matter where I go, I’ll always want you. But I see this isn’t fair for you.” He takes a deep breath and huffs. “I haven’t exactly proven to be good boyfriend material.”

“I’ve never had one, so how would I know?” I feel him backing away. Despite trying to stay positive, I can’t help the feeling that Ben and I are doomed before we even start.

“You’ll know if I’m good enough.” His eyes study me a moment before he pulls me into his arms and crushes my lips against his. I gasp as he sucks my breath away, his lips and tongue stealing the very thoughts from my brain.

Before I’m aware, he’s picked me up from my feet and is taking me across the cabin. Heat flares from my chest and radiates against his hot, bare skin. Coils of desire twist and turn in my belly and suddenly, the velvety dress feels too heavy.

Ben kicks open the bedroom door and places me on the four poster bed without breaking the kiss. His hands are all over my body, and this time, he’s not holding back. His palms massage over my breasts and I feel full and content, loving and drugged, while his lips drag down my neck, nibbling and kissing a trail of tingles.

I squeeze his shoulders and neck before scraping him with my nails lightly, drawing goosebumps on the way down. When I reach his crotch, I press my hand against his length, stroking him through his elf tights, eliciting a deep groan.

He lifts his head so he’s gazing into my eyes. “Shall I show you how I feel about you?”

“Yes, please,” I give my consent. “I want to show you, too.”

I wriggle my tights down as he drags my dress over my head and shoulders.
Holy moly, I’m lying on his bed, fully naked and exposed to the only man I’ll ever love.

~ Ben ~

Ben was in awe. His pretty angel was spread on the bed like a holiday feast. Her beautiful blond hair, her sweet, pouty lips, the bounteous breasts and slim waist of hers—the entire package was perfection.

He didn’t know where to start. Brittney lay still, blinking at him. Her body tightened as he hesitated, and she bit that pouty lip of hers. Suddenly she looked unsure and moved to cover herself with a blanket.

“No. You’re gorgeous.” Ben finally untied his tongue. He’d better pleasure her before she shut down. That he knew how to do with ease. But she wasn’t just any woman, she was special, and he’d make sure to leave his mark.

Swallowing hard, Ben bent over her breasts and kissed each one softly, tenderly before licking one nipple, bringing it to a peak while he caressed the other one between his index and middle finger.

She gasped and threw her head back, panting and making mewing sounds, heartening him that he still had the touch. The self-enforced drought hadn’t dulled his mouth and hands. His cock hardened painfully, wanting in on the action. How many nights had he imagined sliding it between her breasts or if he dared to imagine, pushing his length into her soft and wet folds, letting her grip him tight, her legs wrapped around his waist, as she sheathed him, hot and slippery. He wouldn’t be able to control the urge to thrust and pump, no matter how focused he’d be on her pleasure. What would it be like to climax together? To have her writhing and moaning underneath him while he brought her up that heavenly pinnacle, made her explode and drench herself in her juices mixed with his?

He moved his mouth to the other breast and palmed her belly, feeling the heat travel down as he rubbed her lower, opening her legs. She was so aroused, her clit was already soaked. He spread the juices around the hood, taking care not to touch her directly. Some women didn’t mind, but for the first time, he’d keep his touch light until she pressed against him. Using the flat blade of his tongue, he drew circles around her sensitive spot. A soft cry tore from her throat, and she jerked her hips, seeking more pressure.

He teased for a while, then dragged his lips from her body. Grabbing her hands, he placed them over her breasts. “Hold them for me. I want you to pinch your nipples while I go down.”

Most of the women he played with weren’t shy about rubbing themselves, but Brittney froze. Her legs clamped together and she reached for the covers.

Alarm bells rang loud and clear. She was either a virgin, or very inexperienced. He lifted himself to the level of her eyes and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

She swallowed and nodded, her head jerking up and down, which told him she was anything but okay. He’d been moving too fast, intent on giving her pleasure.

“Should I turn off the light?” he asked. It would rob him of the sight of her, but if it eased her anxieties, it would be well worth it.

“Sure, that might work. Can I get under the covers?” Her voice was small and shy.

“Definitely.” He reached for the lamp cord and turned off the light. “Better?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

Ben licked his lips and pulled himself under the covers with his lovely lady. Maybe she was only up for cuddling and petting. That would be fine.

Not so, his cock argued, and his balls raged, aching with a pent up pressure. He chuckled to himself on how blue this Christmas was going to be—at least from his balls’ perspective.

“Do I look funny?” Brittney whispered. “Is that why you wanted to turn off the light?”

“Trust me, you’re hot.” He moved to hold her in his arms. “But you keep grabbing the covers. Are you a virgin?”

She stiffened and squirmed out of his grasp. “No, I’m not.”

“No? You mean you’ve done it before?”

“Yes. Twice.”

“Oh …” Ben pictured some lanky bare-assed engineering student humping her on a cot in a dorm, and his erection deflated. “Did you do it in the dark? Under the covers?”

“I, uh, don’t think I want to talk about it.” Brittney shied away from him, sliding off the bed. “Let me put on something more comfortable.”

Great. Not only did the scrawny geek get to bone her, but now she wasn’t even going to be naked for him. Had he lost his touch?

“Was it the same guy both times?” Ben couldn’t keep his curiosity under wraps. He wasn’t jealous. That would be ridiculous. Obviously the guy was in her past.

“No, two different ones.” Her voice grew smaller. “Don’t worry. I’m healthy and I haven’t had sex for over a year. My last checkup was all clear.”

“So am I. We have to get checked before the draft and I got a clean bill of health a week ago.”

“That’s good.” She stood at the side of the bed, fully dressed in his jersey and a pair of sweatpants.

“Britt, come here.” He reached up and pulled her onto him. “I want to make love to you, but I’ll wait for you, as long as it takes.”

“You’re not worried about the two guys?”

“Not at all. You obviously didn’t stay with them.” Yeah, right. He was lying through his teeth about not worrying. It blew his mind he wasn’t her first, but then again, he had no right to expect that she’d save herself for him. Just because he thought of her as the ‘One’ didn’t mean she felt the same way.

“It was a friend thing. I was sick of Lacy making fun of me for being boring, and well, so I asked a close friend of mine and he agreed. I haven’t seen him since I left college.”

“How about the other guy?”

“Another friend. Someone I knew from the past who passed through town.” This time, Brittney drew away from him. “I don’t think this is going to work.”

“What? You mean us talking about it? I’ll stop now. None of my business. I’ll never bring it up again.” He reached for her, but she avoided him, getting off the bed.

“I’ll sleep on the couch.” She grabbed a pillow. “It was a wonderful Christmas Eve.”

“Wait. Let me take the couch.” He spun her around. “Take the bed. It’s the least I can do.”

“I hate feeling so awkward. I shouldn’t have rushed this.” Her shoulders heaved as she sighed. “I’m not good at any of this. Not even Lacy dressing me up sexy is going to work.”

“Whatever you have going on works for me. I swear.” A desperate ripping feeling tore through his heart. He was the one who screwed up asking her about her past. He’d only meant to assess whether she was a virgin so he’d know how to handle her. He hadn’t meant to shame her, although if he were honest, he was disappointed.

“It’s not going to work for me.” Brittney remained stiff in his arms. “I’m not the right type of woman for you. You’ll never be satisfied with me.”

“How would you know?” He reached over and pulled the light chain.

She blinked and hid her face with her hands. “You won’t stay with me. I’ll bore you and you’ll leave.”

“Britt,” he whispered, caressing her neck and shoulders. “How would you know unless you try me?”

“Because I’m not sexy, no matter how much makeup I wear. I’m just a pretender. I can’t relax.”

He palmed both sides of her head. “There’s nothing you can say or do that’ll make me turn away from you.”

“You sure? How about if you find out something from my past?”

He chuckled and kissed the top of her head. “The past is past. That’s even easier. It’s over and done with, and I wouldn’t put a candle to it. I don’t care if you slept with fifty guys or a hundred. Just trust me with the present and future, okay?”

A faint smile brightened her face, although her brow still remained furrowed.

He smoothed it with his finger and tickled her belly with his other hand until she giggled. The grandfather clock in the great room chimed its midnight sequence.

“Merry Christmas, Miss Reed.”

“Merry Christmas to you too, Mr. Powers.”

He tipped her chin up for a kiss, but when he lowered his mouth, she turned her head and he brushed her cheek. Deep inside, his gut twisted and he felt like punching himself. Brittney was hiding something, and even though he said he didn’t mind her past, she obviously didn’t believe him.

Two guys. So what? How could it matter?

~ Brittney ~

Ben doesn’t let me go. His breath is hot against my cheek as he picks me up and sets me down on the bed. His arms feel too good, and I want to believe him—that the past doesn’t matter. It’s not like I was in love with either guy, and I trust he isn’t going to ask for more details.

“What are you thinking?” Ben’s deep voice grounds me to the present—the twenty-first century present where such things like virginity and saving yourself for your true love don’t matter anymore—or so I hope.

“How lucky I am that you’re not going to judge me.” I put on a positive spin, the way I usually do to get out of trouble.

“What’s there to judge?” He smooths my hair back. “I’ve known a lot more women. Don’t ask me how many.”

“Sure.” I gulp. “Except they’re probably all hot.”
And I don’t measure up.

“About what you said before?” His eyes were questioning. “That I’ll get bored and leave. That’s so wrong. You’re the most interesting person I’ve met. I’m shocked you’d talk to me and treat me like a regular guy.”

“You
are
a regular guy inside, but you’re also a big football star.” I lower my face and get an eyeful of his solid chest with the soft springy hair over sculpted muscle. He’s so hot he’d melt the polar ice caps if he truly became Santa someday.

“You have nothing to worry about.” Ben’s voice rumbles all the right places in my heart. “Everything’s different when it’s you—kissing you, talking to you, holding you, and just being with you. Besides, sex is not a sport.”

“Then why does everyone act like it is? Talk about scoring or hooking up like it’s a competitive sport. Rating people a nine or a ten? I wonder if something’s wrong with me, like I’ve an overdeveloped brain and an underdeveloped everything else.”

“Doesn’t matter what others think. As for underdeveloped? Not from where I’m sitting.” His eyes rake my chest. “Hey, let’s fix mugs of hot chocolate and toast marshmallows in the fire, and I’ll tell you all the ways you’re overdeveloped. Why you’re one of kind. Sound good?”

He flashes me a friendly grin. It’s hard to believe he’s the same moody Ben as before. I think it’s the Christmas spirit in this cottage full of family and love.

“Okay, sounds fun. Would it be our fourth date?”

“Definitely. Hot chocolate with marshmallows.” He swings my hand as we walk to the living room. “The best fourth date kind of drink.”

When we hit the kitchen, I realize what a mess I left. “Uh, maybe we should clean up.”

“Sounds like a new Christmas tradition in the works.” He chuckles and runs hot water for the sink. “Clean up after midnight, then hot chocolate and marshmallows in front of the fire. I better put another log on.”

“Oh, and we should be wearing ugly pajamas for this midnight madness.” I stretch the jersey I’m wearing and toss him the oversized bright orange Shopahol t-shirt lying on the counter. Him covering up would help me get my hormones under control. I’ve already embarrassed myself up the wazoo, and it’s a miracle Ben’s still here talking to me.

“Yes, next year. Ugly pajama party.” He scrunches his nose at the Shopahol shirt, stretches it tightly over his broad shoulders and heads for the pile of logs near the fireplace.

I get an eyeful of his hot sexy ass as he bends to put on another log, still wearing the tight elf pants.

Wow! If I thought I was falling for him before, now I’ve fallen for him utterly and completely. It’s not every guy who was denied sex who can rebound and be a good sport about it.

Something warm churns deep in my belly. I’m still turned on by him, but this is more than a mixture of lust and friendship—this is something different and special. I drop the dishes in the hot water and scrub them hard to gather my hurried thoughts. What if Ben’s my future husband?

Have I messed up our marriage before it even starts? Can I truly look him in the eye knowing that one of the guys I slept with is his brother?

My breath trips, and my heart freezes in my chest. Nash is staying at my apartment at this very moment. I hadn’t thought so far ahead when he mentioned needing a place to crash. What if he’s expecting benefits? After all, the one time we mentioned what we did, we agreed it was only a little friendly shag, nothing worth talking about.

“Hey, hand me the wet plates,” Ben says, grabbing a dish towel. “Got the log burning, and I figure we can talk and clean at the same time.”

“Uh, what do you want to talk about?” My heart’s falling over itself. I can’t walk away from Ben now that I know how wonderful he is. The stakes have just risen way above ordinary table stakes.

“What you said earlier about not being enough for me.” He takes a plate from me and swishes the towel over it.

Suddenly, I wish they had a dishwasher. This standing side by side, washing and drying is so intimate and ordinary, like a husband and wife. The conversation is anything but. Maybe I should put him on the defensive.

“When you’ve had hundreds, maybe thousands of women, how can my two measly half-hearted attempts mean anything?” I slide another plate to him.

“First of all, I haven’t had hundreds of women, not even close.” He deftly dries the plate and stacks it. “Secondly, I already told you I don’t care about your attempts with anyone else. You’re obviously not with them anymore, and I get the feeling there was no love involved.”

“Youthful experimentation.” I clean a glass and slap it in his palm. “What about you? Have you ever been in love?”

For some reason, my entire body jitters waiting for his answer, even though I put on a casual, nonchalant attitude.

“Negativo.” He twirls the dishcloth inside the glass. “In fact, I’ve never made love before.”

“Ah … so, there’s a difference between making love and having sex?” I’m smiling so wide inside I could swallow the entire Bay Bridge.

“Absolutely, isn’t that the same for you and your half-hearted attempts?” He turns his dark, gleaming eyes on me and smirks.

“No love involved. And rather forgettable.”

“Yes. I agree. Let’s not ever bring it up again.”

I fish another glass from the suds and rinse it off. “Pinky promise.”

He takes it from me and hooks his large pinky around my slender one and shakes. “Pinky promises can’t be broken. That’s what my sisters always say.”

“Me and Lacy, too. I can’t believe a big linebacker like you pinky promises. What will it do to your image?”

I’m breathing multiple sighs of relief, but hiding it behind humor and banter. This went a lot easier than I thought. Ben’s not ever going to bring it up again, and I know Nash is a gentleman. The only thing I have to do is to warn him about me and Ben. Since I don’t have to go back to work, I can stay at my parents’ house at the tree farm while Nash camps at my apartment for the week leading up to the concert. Everything will work out. After all, it’s getting close to Christmas—the season of miracles and dreams come true.

The rest of the dishes go easily. Ben and I truly make a wonderful team. We’re so coordinated that we dance around the kitchen without crashing as we tidy up and put away the trash. Even the half-frosted Angel Cake is tucked securely in the cake holder ready for me to make another batch of frosting.

“You know what we forgot?” Ben grabs me from behind as I put the cake in the refrigerator. “Turning on the lights outside.”

“You’re right.” I straighten up right into his arms. “I can’t wait to see what you came up with.”

“The flamingos are pulling the sleigh tonight.” He picks up the Instamatic camera. “Too bad it’s foggy.”

“And dark.” It’s already after midnight, but maybe we’ll get lucky with the moon. “But that would make it more romantic. Like we’re inside a cloud together.”

“More private,” he agrees. “Put on your shoes.”

A few minutes later, we clamber down the steps of the porch, feeling for our steps in the dark, dense fog. Ben guides us along the side of the house while I hold onto his belt loops, not wanting to get lost, well, in reality, not wanting to let him go. The fog gives me an excuse to cling to him.

“Found it.” He opens a metal box. “Give me your hand.”

Aww … he wants to do it together.

I eagerly clasp my cold hand in his big, hot mitts.

“Ready?” He draws me close and kisses my forehead.

“Eyes on the lights, buddy.” Secretly I’m smiling, but I don’t want to miss the lights, even if they’ll be hard to see in the swirling fog.

“Got it. Three, two, one.” He uses my finger to flip the switch.

I catch my breath at the faint, fuzzy colors shimmering all around me. They glow with a soft warmth and blink like magic fairy lights. I can dimly make out rows of spotlights, each arranged to shine on a snowman, the Christmas train, and the sleigh.

“Come, let’s go say ‘hi’ to Santa,” Ben says, leading me over the lawn to the line of flamingos, each with a pink glowing belly. “There’s Brittzen leading the way.”

I bend over to see her name marked on her glowing belly, when Ben snaps a picture with the Instamatic camera.

“Let me get one of you and Santa,” I say, taking the camera.

“I’d rather have one with the Colleen Angel.” Ben saunters to the center of the lawn, where he’s put the angel with her lighted wings on top of a soapbox.

“Okay, ready?” I push the button, but nothing happens. “Darn. We’re out of film.”

“Did you advance it?” He chuckles.

“The buttons aren’t working.”

“Didn’t your mother ever show you how to use a vintage camera? No batteries, remember. See that ridged wheel? You turn it until it stops.”

“Oh, well, duh, I must be a lot younger than you.” I feel so stupid. Of course, no electronics means I have to turn the wheel to the next frame of film.

He poses back with the angel, and a lump careens to my throat. My Ben has such a big and loving heart that he’d never forgotten his one-day-old sister. Meanwhile, Nash had acted as if nothing had happened—not once mentioning his family other than to say they didn’t understand him—an artist lost in a sea of Philistines, or so he’d always claimed.

Ben puts his arms around the angel figure’s wings and tilts his head so it rests almost on the halo.

Snap.

The bright flash showers light over the angel, and I’m not sure if I’m seeing things or not, but for a moment, shadowy figures flit in the fog—a grayish image of a woman holding hands with a little girl and another one with her hand on Ben’s arm. I narrow my eyes, but it’s dark again and there’s nothing but mist.

“What’s wrong?” Ben steps toward me, holding out his hands. “You look like you saw a ghost.”

I swallow hard, my jaw trembling. I don’t want to give him false hope, or put things in his mind. I’m probably tired and my imagination’s working overtime. “No ghosts, but maybe a trio of angels.”

~ Ben ~

Grandma, Mom, and Colleen.

The thought flitted through Ben’s mind as the hairs tingled over the back of his neck. He blinked and walked to the angel, staring at the white lights winking in the mist. A slight breeze stirred the yarn his grandmother had glued on as the angel’s hair.

Brittney was too kindhearted to be shitting him. The way she’d gasped, her eyes big as saucers meant she saw something. Could they still be around? Or their spirits?

He turned his face toward the cloudy night sky, searching for a clue. Unfortunately, even the moon was hidden, only a faint glow visible behind the tall trees.

Brittney glided to his side and slipped her hand around his arm. Just having her warmth at his side was like no other feeling he’d ever known. A calming peace descended like an old worn blanket as the mist thinned over the trees enough for the moon to peek through.

Over the treetops, a faint twinkling grew brighter.

“A star.” Brittney gasped and pointed.

“The Christmas star.” He hugged her close. “Mom says it means a special blessing.”

They stared at the winking star in awed silence. For the first time in a very long time, Ben breathed evenly and felt surrounded by love. He couldn’t be sure if it was his imagination, or the phonograph had started again inside, but the sounds of an angelic chorus singing glory to God on the highest echoed in the quiet Californian night.

Brittney turned her wide eyes on him, and when he opened his mouth to speak, she raised a hand, silencing him. The chords vibrated faintly through the silent breeze, rising higher, higher, spilling up over the treetops, until he knelt to the ground and raised his hands.

A cloud of light rested over his broad shoulders, soft like lamb’s wool and warm with love. The presence of his loved ones, even on the other side of the veil, renewed his tired heart.

It was time to let love win.