The Bachelor’s Christmas Bride (15 page)

He did the same thing but when he sat back he turned slightly to his side so he could look at her. He also stretched an arm along the sofa behind her head.

“So let me see if I have this straight. Three proposals—two of them offering bigger lives—but what made you turn them all down was—”

“The same thing that made you turn down the two women you dated for long periods of time but didn't want to make a commitment to—the way I felt about them. Or, actually, the way I
didn't
feel about them. There was nothing really
wrong
with any of them. But with every one of them, if I went a week or two without seeing them, I was okay with it.”

And yet with Dag she didn't seem to be okay with even a few hours without seeing him or talking to him…

She couldn't let that mean anything, she told herself.

“And the bottom line,” Dag summarized, “is that bigger life or not—in any form—you won't accept less than what your folks had together.”

Shannon shrugged. “My parents truly, truly loved each other. And as sappy as it may sound, after seeing that, after witnessing with my own two eyes that that kind of love does exist, it's something I have to hold out for.”

Dag nodded his understanding but Shannon had the impression that there was something he wanted to say yet wasn't.

“What?” she asked. “You don't believe that kind of love exists?”

“I'm just wondering…”

“About?”

“Well, we can't count the high school kid because he wasn't offering the feelings or a bigger life. But with the
other two guys you haven't had much trouble turning down the bigger life because the feelings weren't there. What happens if the feelings come without the bigger life?”

How had they gotten back on this subject she hadn't wanted to talk about?

“I don't know,” she said. “But you're kind of harshing my buzz—”

Dag laughed again. “
That's
not what I had in mind!”

“I know. But here we are, with the Christmas tree and the fire and the wine and—”

“Maybe you'd rather hear more about the contortionist,” he said, obviously getting the message. “Shall I tell you how she once got me out of a speeding ticket by dislocating her toes and telling the cop I was rushing her to the hospital because she'd broken her foot?”

“Oh, no! Stop!” Shannon said in horror, closing her eyes as if to block out the vision.

When she opened them again it was to Dag studying her and smiling a small, secret smile. Then he said, “What does it mean if I hate not seeing you for even a few hours?” he asked then, echoing her own thought of moments earlier.

“That you're really, really bored and need a hobby?”

He shook his handsome head as if he'd considered that, but then he said, “Nope, I don't think so….”

She knew that her own craving to be with him didn't come out of boredom, either, but she was afraid to think about what it might mean that every minute she was away from him was spent wishing she wasn't.

Then he came nearer and kissed her. And she recognized one of the reasons she craved being with him—because for the second time, the moment their lips met she felt an overwhelming sense of well-being, of euphoria,
of just plain gladness that still didn't dampen the sheer excitement that kissing him flooded her with.

Shannon raised a hand to the side of his chiseled face as she answered his kiss, parting her lips, kissing him in return, welcoming his tongue when it came.

He was braced on his side, on one elbow, but with that hand he took hers where it rested on the sofa cushion, holding it while he wrapped his other arm around her and turned her more toward him.

And while Shannon knew it was probably not wise, her knee bent and her leg drifted over his.

That definitely lit a match to the kiss—mouths opened wider and tongues played with more fervor, more daring and audacity.

Shannon's hand went from the side of Dag's face along the unyielding column of his neck to his shoulder, to his chest, encased in the waffly weave of that thermal shirt.

Had his nipple grown slightly hard at her touch? The idea made her smile inside. And it made her own nipples tighten into much more adept little knots in memory of his hands on them last night. His mouth…

And if her own mouth opened a bit wider beneath his at just that thought? If her tongue met his more boldly? If a new hunger erupted in that kiss? She couldn't help it.

Not that Dag seemed to mind—he gave as good as he got in the joust they were toying at, and then he did her one better still, and brought his hand from her back to the side of her waist where it took nothing to find his way under that short sweater to bare skin.

His hand was warm, slightly calloused, so, so strong. He did a light massage of her side, racking her with memories of what he could do to more sensitive parts
of her. Parts of her that were straining against her bra, her sweater, pining for his attention.

She demonstrated, pressing her fingers into his pectoral, releasing only to press again, inspiring a throaty chuckle from him.

Then his tongue changed to playful, instigating a little cat and mouse before he ended that kiss altogether and said, “I can't go home in the state I was in last night.”

Her own unmet yearnings of the previous evening had been all she'd thought about. She hadn't considered what condition he might have been left in.

But now here they were again, and the choice was clear-cut—either they stopped before this went any further, or they didn't stop at all….

And stopping the previous evening had been bad enough.

Shannon kissed him again, a long, lingering, sensuous-but-not-sexy kiss, while her mind spun.

Before, she'd been worried and unsettled by the primal, out-of-control side he'd unveiled in her. The side that she could feel fighting to be unleashed again.

Before, she'd found willpower in reminding herself that they wanted different things.

But tonight…

Tonight she couldn't find the inclination to summon any kind of control.

Tonight she just kept kissing him and thinking that this wasn't her entire future or her whole life. That it wasn't his entire future or his whole life, either. That this was just now. One night. Christmastime. With a man who made her feel things she'd never felt before. Things she didn't want to leave behind without exploring them all…

“Maybe you just shouldn't go home…” she whispered
in a moment's pause between kissing him and having him kiss her back—but with some reserve. A reserve that remained even as she felt his lips stretch into a smile.

Then his head reared away from that kiss altogether and he peered down into her eyes. “Are you sure about that?” he asked skeptically in a low, husky voice.

“I am,” she confirmed, rubbing her foot against his calf.

Dag continued to study her, to read her expression as if real assurance could only be there.

And maybe he found what he was looking for, because after a moment he smiled a small smile and said, “And Rumson—you're sure you're done with him? It's over? Finished? History for you?”

“All of that.”

He did more looking into her eyes, more of what she thought of as soul-searching, although it seemed as if it wasn't so much her soul he was searching now, but his own.

After another moment his smile grew and turned devilish. “If you change your mind, I'm gonna have to run naked through the snow to cool off.”

She wanted him naked all right, but not in the snow….

And her answer was to pull free the back half of his shirttails from his waistband and kiss him again, marveling at just how far her newly discovered wild side would go. Because she'd never taken any steps whatsoever to seduce another man and yet here she was…

With her thigh riding higher and higher on Dag's…

He was returning her kiss again but still cautiously. At least for a few minutes—maybe while he made up his own mind about the wisdom in this.

But then his mouth opened wide over hers once more,
his tongue reclaimed hers with a vengeance, and that hand at her side went straight up to cup her breast, sending a tingle of delight to skitter across the surface of her skin.

That was when inhibitions flew out the window.

Shannon yanked the remainder of his shirt from his jeans and both of her hands crawled up the widening expanse of his back, pressing her palms to follow the highs and lows of muscle and bone and sinew.

When she reached his shoulders he broke away from kissing her long enough for her to pull his shirt off, and for one brief moment before he returned to that kiss, she got to see the glory that was a professional athlete's shoulders and biceps and broad, broad chest.

And even when he'd blocked her view, even when he'd drawn her into another wildly wet and wicked kiss, she could still run her hands all over that naked torso, glorying in the feel.

She hadn't had quite enough of that when, without warning, Dag tore his mouth from hers to do a quick repositioning that turned him to lie flat on his back on the sofa, lifting Shannon to sit atop him, straddling that portion of him that had apparently caused him problems last night and tonight offered only promise.

He unfastened the buttons of her sweater while she feasted on her second view of his bare chest and flat, honed stomach, running her hands from its center to his sides to absorb the sight and feel of him all at once, provoking him to arch his waist off the couch just enough that the hard ridge of him tantalized her even further.

Then off came her sweater, leaving her lacy, demi-cup bra and the upper swell of her breasts exposed to him.

She thought she would feel more shy than she did at that first loss of her own clothes but instead that wilder
side took over once again. She basked in the heat of his dark eyes as they took their turn at feasting on her with an appreciation that brought a smile to his oh-so-ruggedly-handsome face.

But looking wasn't nearly as good as touching and with a little laugh, Dag pulled her down to kiss her again, rolling them both to their sides.

Somewhere along the way her bra had come unhooked and he tossed that aside, as well, giving himself free access. Free access that he used to best advantage as one mighty hand closed around her now-naked breast, kneading, caressing, massaging, causing a fresh wave of desire to erupt in her that was relayed in the pinpoint pebble her nipple became in his palm.

But last night there had been even more…

Even better…

And when his mouth abandoned hers so he could kiss a moist trail downward to take her breast that way again, she couldn't keep from greeting him with an arch of her spine and a soft moan.

Circling, flicking, nipping at her. Teasing her nipple with the faint tip of his tongue. Sucking hard, then soft, he brought things to life in her that were sweeter and more intense than she'd ever known.

His hands went to the button on her jeans, opening that, too, unzipping the zipper. He pulled her pants off, taking her stockings with them, while his tongue twirled around the outer edge of her navel, before his mouth found her other breast and occupied it with the same wonders.

That was when it occurred to her that she could have more of him, too. That his jeans could go the same way hers had.

She reached for his waistband button, finding so much
more than she'd bargained for in the burgeoning behind that zipper that almost parted on its own when the button was undone.

With a little help from him, off went his jeans and socks, as well, and then he clasped her rear end in one hand big enough to cradle it and pulled her tight up against him.

But not so tight that she couldn't fit her hand between them to find that steely shaft and enclose it in her grip to make him groan with pleasure and pulse into her palm.

He abandoned her breast again and rediscovered her mouth with his, kissing her with a wide-open, seeking kiss as he shed her lacy panties.

Then he reached to the floor, fumbling among their discarded clothes until he found his jeans and took protection from his pocket. He returned to kissing her with a sexy playfulness while he put on the condom.

Once he had, he was moving her again. This time to lie on her back so he could come over her, between her legs that parted in invitation.

But it was more kisses that came first. Beginning at her knees, going up one thigh. He dropped a kiss at a spot just below her belly button and proceeded to leave a trail of them up her middle to her breasts again.

One after the other, he drew her straining, arousal-engorged breasts into his mouth, flicking his tongue to her nipples, using tender teeth to drive her to the brink of insanity with wanting so much more that she would be writhing beneath him.

And when she was, the body kisses began again, this time traveling up her breastbone to her throat, to her chin, to her mouth…

And at the same moment his tongue made an
impertinent entrance, he slid into her down below, too, in one smooth movement that joined them as if there were no other, more perfect fit.

Shannon's body answered all on its own. Her spine arched from its lowest point, pulling her shoulders, her neck off the sofa in turn, before the full ripple washed through her and the pure force of having him inside her became a reality.

An incredible reality…

Only then did he begin to move—slowly at first, making it easy for her to follow his lead, building desire, anticipation, increasing speed and intensity until their mouths separated and just their bodies moved in perfect rhythm, perfect harmony, perfect communication. Faster and faster. Shannon clung to Dag's massive shoulders. His big hands were on either side of her head. His long, strong arms braced him above her. And with each thrust of his hips, each meeting of hers to his, each pitch that took him to the very core of her, passion mounted and grew. And grew…