Christmas with Him

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He set aside his mug. She followed suit.

“You should,” he said.

The space between them diminished fractionally with each breath they took until their faces were mere inches apart. He smelled chocolate, was eager to taste it, but he knew that wasn’t the reason he suddenly felt so starved.

“Your hair is still damp,” he murmured, reaching up to run his fingers through the loose tumble of curls.

“Dawson.” Eve sighed his name and closed her eyes, and just that fast he knew he was doomed. But as he followed her down onto the fire-warmed rug, it felt far more like a resurrection than it did an execution.

He started at her neck, nibbling the spot just below her jaw where he could feel her pulse beating.

Life. It was right there under his lips, inviting him, enticing him.

And so he moved lower, alternately kissing and nipping his way down to the curve of her shoulder. Her skin was soft and as smooth as satin. When he pushed the robe off her shoulder, it all but glowed in the firelight.

He glanced up to find Eve watching him. Her expression was serious. Her dark eyes were wide and still filled with questions. Dawson wasn’t sure he could give her any of the answers she sought. Come right down to it, he had plenty of questions himself.

He started with the most pressing.

“Are you sure?” he whispered.

She paused a moment, an eternity. When she finally nodded, he stood and helped her to her feet. They didn’t speak a word as, hands clasped, he led her through the quiet house back upstairs to his bedroom.

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