She was smart enough to realize what happened in the next few minutes would set the course for the rest of her life. She walked over to where he stood and, with deliberate slowness, raised her hands and smoothed them first over his chest then his back. Then she stood in front of him and kissed every inch of his skin from his shoulders to his waist. Finally, she met his gaze, saw the anguish in his eyes.
“I can’t begin to imagine the pain you were in when this happened.”
Beneath the beard a muscle twitched in his cheek. “How come you’re not revolted by the scars? Everyone else who’s seen them was.”
She made herself smile. “I don’t know about everyone else, but I’m more interested in what’s beneath the scars. Here.” She placed a hand over his heart, then gave him an impish smile, lowering her hand to his groin. “And here.”
He captured her hands. “What if you had to see this every day? What then?”
She shrugged. “Then I would do whatever I had to in order to ease the pain. If you think this is going to keep me away from you, I’m insulted. I thought you had more respect for my intelligence.”
Blake shook his head. “I hope you’re telling me the truth. I’m not sure I could take it if you aren’t.”
“I will always tell you the truth. You can count on it.” She thought a moment about framing her next words. “I think I’m glad for the blindfold business. For one thing, we got to live out our fantasies, our dreams, in a way we might not have been able to otherwise. For another, it allowed me to know the real Blake Massie. The man. An extraordinary one, I might say.”
He released her hands and bent to capture his mouth. The kiss was slow and smoky, tender and scorching, light yet intense.
“You have no idea how scared I was to come here.” He grinned. “But Grange told me some hard truths about myself. He also told me I was about to lose the best thing that ever happened to me.”
The coffeemaker gave a gurgle and a plop. “Coffee’s ready. I’ll get us some mugs.”
Brutus had been restrained in his reaction to Blake, probably because he sensed something in the air. Now, he danced around the man’s ankles, barking excitedly. Blake reached down to scratch his head.
“So, who was his stand-in for the picture you put up on IM the first night we ‘talked’?”
“Oh, yeah.” Nina laughed again. “I always post the picture when someone asks if I live alone. Brutus doesn’t mind.” She lifted two filled mugs. “Want to take these into the living room?”
He nodded. “We need to do a lot of talking, Nina. And not only about me. So we might as well get comfortable.”
When he knelt in front of the fireplace to get a blaze started, she almost told him to leave it.
“I’m good,” he assured her. “It’s only when fire gets out of control that it’s bad.”
He arranged himself in a corner of the sofa, legs stretched out before him. Nina crawled in next to him, his free arm draped around her shoulders. And they talked. And talked. And talked. She cried when he told her about the burns and the seven months in the hospital. And his decision to hide away from everyone. She kissed his face all over then trailed her mouth down his neck. One hand stole beneath his T-shirt to rest on his chest.
“Let me touch you here all the time. Let me hold your heart.”
“You had it from the moment I saw your picture on the website,” he told her.
“What about your brother and sister?”
“I didn’t want to burden them. Or force them to be confronted with me every day. Who wants someone like me hanging around all the time?”
“Whoever loves you.” She put her mug on the coffee table and leaned toward him to shower his chin with kisses. “It’s what’s inside that’s important.”
“Yeah.” He scratched his head. “Grange tried to tell me that for a long time.”
He told her about his leg and resisting the therapy to make it better until she came into his life.
“You did it for me?”
He nodded. “I wanted to be more for you than some cripple you felt sorry for.”
“Oh, Blake. I want you to do whatever makes life easier for you, not because you think it’s aesthetically pleasing to me. How you feel inside is what’s important.”
She hesitated to tell him about Greg and Tom, those stories couldn’t compare to what he’d suffered. She felt like a fool. The stories branded her an idiot for trusting them. But Blake saw it differently.
“You’re better off without them.” His voice was edged with anger. “They’re the fools for losing something very special. But their bad luck is my good fortune.” He finished his coffee and pulled her beneath him on the couch. Opening her bathrobe and pulling up her sleep shirt, he kissed her left breast, trailing his tongue around it in circles.
“I’m going to heal your poor battered heart, honey. And make sure it will never break again. I’m so sorry I gave you a painful holiday. You’ve had enough of those. I want to make it up to you. Do you think you could put up with someone like me?”
Her heart banged against her ribs, and she could barely breathe with excitement. “For as long as you want.”
“I have no Christmas present for you. I’m sorry.”
“You’re my Christmas present. I don’t need anything else.”
“I love you, Nina. Will you…will you marry me?”
Her laugh was giddy. “I thought you’d never ask.”
He kissed her so thoroughly her blood burned and every pulse point throbbed.
“If you want me to have the plastic surgery, I will. It seemed pointless before.”
She placed her hands on his cheeks. “If it will make you feel better or improve your health situation. Otherwise, do only what you want to.”
“Grange said I should at least talk to the doctors.”
“Sounds like a plan to me. We can go together.”
He kissed her again. “We. I like the sound of it. God, I love you so much. And every Thanksgiving and Christmas from now on will be very special holidays for us.”
“You should think about your role with the ranch,” she reminded him. “I can open a book store anywhere.”
“You mean it? You’d really go to Texas with me?”
“Of course. You own my heart. Wherever you go, I go.” She cupped his cheeks. “I think to make the holiday complete you should call your sister and brother.” When his muscles tightened she brushed her mouth over his. “It’s time to heal all the way, Blake. Really. And you can use my phone.”
“Honey, it’s barely four in the morning. Oh, wait.” He grinned. “It’s five o’clock there. Practically the middle of the day.”
“Do you really think they’d care what time it is if you’re the one calling? I promise.” She brushed her mouth lightly against his. “Trust me on this.”
She pushed away from him but only long enough to get the cordless.
“Here.” She thrust the phone at him. “Go ahead. It’s already been too long.”
“Okay.” He took the instrument from her. “But I want you right here on my lap while I do this.”
He dialed a number with shaking fingers then wrapped his arm tightly around her while he waited for someone to answer.
She knew the phone had picked up on the other end when he drew in a deep breath.
“Holt? I guess I woke you. Sorry.” Another deep breath. “Guess who this is. Yeah, you’re right. It’s me.”
Tears formed and rolled down his cheeks unheeded. Nina found herself crying again, but good tears this time.
“Yup,” he went on. “Finally found a reason to keep on living. I’m bringing her home for you to meet.”
He glanced at Nina, and she nodded her head.
“I’ll call you back and let you know which dates, okay? Let me talk to Jennie.”
She was still crying silently when he finally finished the call. His own tears ran unchecked in tracks along his face. He pulled Nina into a tight embrace, burying his face in her hair.
“Thank you for giving me back my life. For loving me. For making me believe in Christmas again.”
“Me, too,” she whispered. “You mended my heart and made it whole again. I’d say this calls for a celebration.”
“Me, too.” He rose, sweeping her up in his arms. “And I know just what kind to have. Which way’s the bedroom?”
~ABOUT THE AUTHOR~
Desiree Holt’s writing is flavored with the rich experiences of her life, including a long stretch in the music business representing every kind of artist from country singer to heavy metal rock bands. For several years she also ran her own public relations agency handling any client that interested her, many of whom might recognize themselves in the pages of her stories. She is twice a finalist for an EPIC E-Book Award, a nominee for a Romantic Times Reviewers Choice Award, winner of the first 5 Heart Sweetheart of the Year Award at The Romance Studio as well as twice a CAPA Award for best BDSM book of the year, winner of two Holt Medallion Awards of Merit, multiple winner of the Whipped Cream Book of the Week Award and is published by five different houses.
Romance Junkies
said of her work: “Desiree Holt is the most amazing erotica author of our time and each story is more fulfilling then the last.”
You can visit Desiree at:
Emma, the good girl poster child, is running from a life she suddenly sees as gray and suffocating—a life where she’s successfully buried all her hopes and secret dreams. Until the night she wanders into Aftershock and is immediately drawn to the hot bass player. The electricity of his performance, the powerful music he coaxes from his guitar, the heavy vibration of each note reaches out to something deep inside her and wakes an Emma she didn’t even know existed.
Marc doesn’t much care for the groupies who hang around the band. He needs a woman he can create a future with that’s a counterpoint to the craziness of the rock music business. When he sees Emma for the first time, something inside him cracks wide open. Just one sizzling glance between them, and he’s sure he’s found the woman to complete his life.
But as the relationship grows, there’s a huge stumbling block: Emma won’t tell him her name. The sex is fabulous but he wants more…. Although Emma is finally finding her true self, her fear of everything falling apart builds a barrier she can’t seem to cross. Marc is taking her on the joy ride of her life, but will her own insecurities destroy everything?