Читать книгу Unwrap Me - Susan Lyons - Страница 12

Jude was nervous about facing Karen on Monday, so she holed up in her office with the door closed. But eventually she had to make a trip to the ladies’ room.

Emerging from a stall, she wasn’t surprised to see Karen standing there. One hip propped against a sink, arms crossed, her friend grinned knowingly. “You’re avoiding me, and Nick won’t return my calls. If you hated each other, you’d both be reaming me out for introducing you. So I figure…” She wriggled her eyebrows suggestively.

Washing her hands, Jude stared at her own reflection and saw her cheeks go pink. “What can I say? You sent me a nice present. But he’s your brother-in-law, so I don’t feel right talking about it. Uh, him. Our relationship. Well, it’s not really a relationship, but, uh, you know.”

“Sex! Yes! Am I good, or what?” Karen pumped a fist in the air. “Come on, spill.”

Praying someone would come in, she said, “It’s private.”

“Okay, I don’t have to know all the details. But he’s cute, isn’t he?”

Jude’s lips kinked up of their own volition. “Objectively speaking, I’d say more handsome than cute.”

“And nice. As far as I can see, his only flaw is thinking he won’t get married for another ten years.”

“Suits me perfectly.”

“Mmmm-hmmm.” Her friend’s smile was smug and superior. “I do have a knack for choosing the perfect gift. So what have you two been up to?”

“I told you that’s private.”

Karen snorted. “Not the sex, the other stuff. Or has there been any other stuff? Maybe you spend all your time in bed?”

“No.” Not all of it. “Saturday night we had a picnic in front of the fire. Sunday we went to the aquarium and then cooked Thai food.”

“No Christmas stuff? I’m surprised. Nick’s really into all that.”

“Well, I’m not, and I told him so.” He’d been good about honoring her no-Christmas rule, though it was impossible to avoid the decorations that festooned the city. Every time she saw sparkly lights, ornamented trees, or Christmas banners, her stomach went sour and her heartburn came back. How could people buy into the hypocrisy?

Karen frowned, then shrugged. “Anyhow, what counts is I take the gold medal for gift giving. Sounds like the two of you are joined at the hip. Seeing him tonight?”

“Uh-huh. We’re going to barbecue salmon.” Joined at the hip? Hmmm. They had been spending an awful lot of time together. Should she worry?

“Barbecuing in the middle of winter?” Karen shook her head. “Come have dinner with Kris and me. After, you can help us make a gingerbread house.”

Jude shuddered. “Me and gingerbread houses don’t mix. Thanks anyhow.”

Now this was her idea of a good time, Jude thought later when she opened the door to Nick, who was in jeans and a forest-green jersey, hair still damp from the shower. She went into his arms, stretching up for a kiss.

Her toes were curling by the time he broke away.

“Oh, yeah, I want more of that,” he said. “Just give me a sec.” Hurriedly he shrugged out of his coat and put down a bag. “Okay, come back.”

She fitted herself into his arms and nuzzled his neck. “You smell good. Like the great outdoors.”

“You smell like summer. Flowers and ripe peaches. Let’s see how you taste.”

This time the kiss lasted longer, went deeper. Deep enough she felt it all through her body. His mouth was delicious, his scent intoxicating. Her hands gripped his butt, and his did the same to hers, so their bodies were pressed tight together. She felt the rigid heat of his erection through their clothes. As his tongue explored her mouth, she imagined his cock inside her doing its own exploration. Her body craved him, hungered for him; she was hot and wet and achy with a need only Nick could satisfy. She whimpered and rubbed her pelvis against him.

He made an impatient sound and then hoisted her into his arms and headed for the stairs leading to her second-floor bedroom.

“Yes, please,” she said.

Funny how they’d already fallen into a pattern. A quickie first—to slake the immediate lust—and then long, slow lovemaking—no, make that sex—later. Two different kinds of experience, both equally sexy and satisfying.

“I brought you a present,” he said, not sounding the least bit out of breath at lugging her weight. “Five presents, to be exact.”

“Five?”

He flicked on the bedroom light, went over to the bed, and tossed her down.

She bounced, giggling, as he reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a small bag. He held it upside down over the bed, scattering the contents around her.

“Condoms?”

“A sampler.”

She grabbed up the squares, each containing a ring of latex, and examined them. “Chocolate—yum, that’s for dessert. Or maybe this red-and-green peppermint one. Ooooh, a studded one. And a ribbed one.” Internal muscles pulsed at the thought of that stimulation. She held up the last. “Glow-in-the-dark? Seriously?”

“Thought it’d be fun.” He sat on the bed beside her. “You look like a kid in a candy store.”

“An adult candy store.” Jude ran her tongue around her lips, teasing him back. “And you’re the lollipop.” Then she ran a finger down the fly of his jeans.

“You can sample the merchandise.”

She glanced at the condoms. “Hmmm, which one to start with…I can’t decide.”

He tossed them back in the bag and then held the bag out in front of her. “Reach in and pick.”

She did and came up with the studded one. “‘For her sensual pleasure,’” she read from the package. “Can’t argue with that.” Then she ripped it open and eagerly unfastened his fly.

Nick had a perfect cock. Long and thick, beautifully shaped, with a satiny crown, always responsive. What a shame to cover it with latex, even if that latex was covered with bumps for her sensual pleasure.

While she sheathed him, he was reaching for the zipper of her rose-colored velour hoodie, pulling it down, reaching inside. “No bra,” he said appreciatively as he caressed her breasts, teasing her nipples into tight buds.

When he peeled off her hoodie, her skin prickled with goose bumps, but only for a moment because he was leaning forward to suck a nipple into his mouth, and now she was shivering for a whole different reason. Fiery heat rushed straight from her budding nipple to her swollen pussy, making her squeeze her thighs together. The velour of her black pants was soft against her skin, but the seam pressed her sensitive clit.

Not for long, though, because he was pulling at the stretchy waistband. She shifted her weight so he could ease off her slacks and black panties. Then she straddled him where he sat on the edge of the bed, jeans shoved down his hips. That firm shaft rose between them, and she rubbed against it, her juices slicking the condom, the bumps teasing her clit.

His hands wove through her hair and pulled her close; then his lips came across hers in a hot, demanding kiss that took her from aroused to on fire in seconds. Tongues thrusting, dueling, mating, they both gasped for breath but didn’t stop kissing. Knees on the bed, Jude raised herself, reaching between them to grip his erection and guide him to her opening.

He took it from there, with one powerful thrust that drove him deep inside her.

Delicious sensations filled her, making her whimper against his mouth. Her sex pulsed and throbbed, craving more, so she began to raise and lower herself around him. Oh, yeah, she could feel the studs. Unusual but good. No, make that great.

Pressure and need were spiraling fast, and Nick’s thrusts told her he felt the same. Their kisses had gone to pecks and nibbles, grabbed between panting breaths and moans of pleasure.

She knew him by now, knew he’d wait for her before he came. But whenever that happened, she was so stunned with sensation she didn’t fully register his climax. This time, she wanted to reverse things.

She rose and fell faster and faster on his cock and slid a hand between them, found his balls, and squeezed gently.

He gave a surprised groan. “Jesus, Jude.” Under her hand he tightened.

“Come, Nick,” she panted. “Want you to come.”

He lost control, his movements wild and erratic as he pumped into her and then let out a hoarse cry and erupted in jerky thrusts.

Those last compulsive strokes did it for her, bringing her along with him in an explosive orgasm.

Arms around each other, they slumped, chests heaving, gasping for breath.

A minute or two later, he kissed the top of her head, stroked her back. “The studs are okay?”

“Great.” Only one thing would be better: naked flesh with no layer of protection.

Wait a minute. What was she thinking? The only time she’d had unprotected sex was when she’d been engaged. When there’d been intimacy, commitment, and trust—or so she’d thought at the time. She’d been such a fool to think a man would give her commitment, deserve her trust.

“I figured we could try some different kinds,” Nick said. “Whatever you like, I’ll buy more of.”

What was he talking about? Oh, right. Condoms. She refocused. “Good idea.” Yes, the two of them were about sex, and that was all. Great sex for as long as they both wanted. Good god, they hadn’t even talked about exclusivity. Not that she had any right—no, make that desire—to ask for it. Or did she?

She shivered, edgy and off balance. “I’m getting chilly. Let’s get dressed and make dinner.”

As she eased off his lap, he asked, “Are you okay?”

“Of course.” She gathered up her clothes and went into the bathroom to clean up.

When she came out, he was already dressed and in the kitchen. He’d found the salmon in the fridge and was squeezing lemon juice onto it.

“You know your way around a kitchen,” she commented.

“Find me a firefighter who doesn’t. Comes from our time as probies—probationers—when we’re in charge of groceries and meals.” He glanced up from chopping fresh dill. “Besides, Mom made sure Kris and I learned how to cook.”

“Good for her.”

“It was fun. Especially at Christmastime.” This time he didn’t look up from grating pepper over the fish. “Shortbread, gingerbread, Christmas cake, mince tarts.”

Jude felt a pang. When she was a kid, her mama had made the same things and let Jude help. Jude didn’t want to think, much less talk, about Christmas, yet she found herself saying, “Karen and Kris are making a gingerbread house tonight.”

He turned quickly, smiling. “Want to go join them?”

“No! That’s not what I meant.” Why on earth had she mentioned it? “You know I don’t like holiday stuff.”

“I do.” He cocked his head. “What’s that all about, Jude?”

“Christmas is a ridiculous, hypocritical, crassly commercial institution.” The words popped out automatically, words she and her mom had repeated countless times over the years. Now she was back on safe ground.

He frowned and opened his mouth to say something. Instead he turned away and went to the fridge. She got down wine-glasses while he opened a bottle of Cherry Point pinot gris.

When he’d poured two glasses and handed her one, he said, “I’ll grab my coat and get the barbecue going.”

Relieved that he’d abandoned the subject of Christmas, she said brightly, “Great. The rest will take only a few minutes.” She’d already cooked rice, which she planned to heat in the microwave for a couple of minutes, then serve with asparagus.

As she bustled around the kitchen, she wondered why he’d backed off. Maybe he’d reminded himself that their different views on Christmas didn’t matter. She and Nick were about fun. Sex. Not about her sharing painful memories or him trying to convince her to opt into a stupid holiday she hadn’t celebrated in eighteen years.

If he tried that, he’d be out on his ear, great sex or not.

Outside, Nick welcomed the opportunity to have a few minutes alone even though the temperature was near freezing.

He liked Jude a lot. She was smart and fun, as well as so damn beautiful and sexy. When she talked about her work as a headhunter, he saw that she cared about people and enjoyed helping them. But when it came to the subject of Christmas, she stopped being so smart and fun and caring.

Sure, there was commercial shit happening, but at heart Christmas was about love. Jude had to know that. So what was going on?

He flipped the salmon, thinking back to when she’d mentioned the gingerbread house. There’d been a shadow in her eyes. That shadow wasn’t about commercialism. It was some kind of hurt. A painful memory?

The safest thing would be to leave the subject alone, the way she wanted. A firefighter knew better than to play with fire. If he pushed her, she might kick him out.

Then he’d lose this great situation, the no-strings sex.

He scowled down at the salmon. Yeah, okay, no-strings sex was what he’d wanted when he’d first met Jude. But now…

He felt something different for her. Different than he’d ever felt before. He wanted to really know her, be part of her life. Help her if she was in pain.

Karen kept saying he needed to grow up. Nick had never understood what she meant. Perhaps now he was beginning to.

He flipped the fish onto a platter and went into the warm kitchen. “It’s cooked.”

“Great.” She flashed him a bright smile. Too bright. Superficial. “I’ll bring in the asparagus. Everything else is on the table.”

Her half of the house had a small dining room. Music drifted in from the living room, the upbeat rhythm of a Beyoncé song. Daffodil-yellow candles gave the only light in the room, and the sweet-smelling flowers on the table were yellow, too.

As they ate, they talked about their days, and Jude seemed to relax. But Nick still felt unsettled. Easier to let things go—but he didn’t think he could.

They took dessert—imported strawberries in Grand Marnier—into the living room. She filled a couple liqueur glasses with Inniskillin Riesling Icewine, saying, “The taste makes me think of summer. Or the tropics.”

When he sipped, he tasted hints of peach, mango, and other exotic flavors he couldn’t name. “Bringing the tropics to Vancouver in December.”

“Mmmm-hmmm.”

He took a breath. “So it’s December—or winter—you hate? Not just Christmas?”

Her body froze. Warily she said, “It’s Christmas.”

Nick took her free hand and squeezed it. “There’s more to it than commercialism and hypocrisy. Did something happen at Christmas?”

Her full lips turned into a compressed line.

“It was that bad?”

She huffed out a sigh. “Don’t try to psychoanalyze me.”

Hurt, his first reaction was to snap back. But he counted to ten. “I’m not. But I thought we were friends. Seems like you’re keeping a pretty big secret.”

“It doesn’t affect you.”

“It does.” He fought to keep his voice level. “This is my favorite time of year. I’d love to be trimming a tree, caroling, helping Kris and Karen with that gingerbread house. But I can’t, because I’m with you, and you’re playing Grinch.”

“Then don’t be with me.” Her eyes narrowed. “It’s your choice. Go play Christmas, if that’s what you want.”

She sounded childish. And he was damn tempted to do as she’d suggested. Maybe this crazy girl wasn’t worth the trouble.

But something inside him whispered she was. Yes, she sounded childish. Like a hurt little kid who dealt with her pain by striking out. “What I want is to know why,” he said gently. “Is that too much to ask?”

She scowled, and something flickered in her eyes as if they were reflecting the tumble of thoughts in her head. Then, grudgingly, she said, “It’s no big deal. Two strikes, and that’s enough. I’ve learned my lesson. Betray me once, shame on you. Betray me twice, shame on me.”

He laced his fingers through hers, trying to offer comfort. “Who betrayed you, Jude?”

She took a big swallow of ice wine and stared into the glass. “When I was eight, Mama and I f—found…” Her voice wobbled, and she took a breath then started again. “Found out my father had another family. We thought he was—get this—a traveling salesman on the road a lot. Even at Christmas because he had clients who didn’t observe the Christian holiday.”

Voice firm—grim—now, she said, “In fact, he already had a wife and three-year-old daughter when he ‘married’ Mama. Their marriage was a sham. I’m illegitimate.”

Nick’s grip on her fingers tightened, adrenaline surging with the desire to punch out her father. “Shit. That must’ve been awful.”

“Oh, yeah.” She squeezed her eyes shut as though remembering, sighed, and then opened her eyes again. “He got sloppy. He gave the wrong business card to someone—he had two with different phone numbers—and this man phoned our home looking for him. A week before Christmas. Mama was out buying presents. I took the call….” The grimness was gone, and her voice sounded young, tentative. Hurt.

Nick suddenly realized what he’d asked of her. This wasn’t a story she’d told often. He’d made her relive what must’ve been the most horrible time in her life. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and protect her. But if he did, she might stop talking. And he sensed she needed to get this out, as much as he needed to hear it.

She drew a shuddery breath. “What the man on the phone said didn’t make sense. But I had this sense of…doom, I guess. Like everything was breaking apart.” Her brows drew together. “I got his phone number, and Mama phoned him back. She put the pieces together.”

“What a shock.”

“The man dug up another of my father’s cards with the other phone number. Mama called and talked to his wife. His real wife. Then she told that jerk never to come back again.”

“Wow.” He could understand her mom doing that. But on the other hand, the guy was Jude’s dad. Surely he wouldn’t have disappeared from her life. “What happened?”

She snorted, and now, finally, she looked at him. Her eyes gleamed with unshed tears yet were fierce and angry. “He wrote a letter. We got it on Christmas Eve day. Mama tore it up, but I collected the shreds and put it back together. Turns out, getting caught was what he needed to, quote, ‘come to his senses.’” She gave the last phrase a bitter twist, face contorted. “He was in some hard-line religion ‘back home’ and talked to a ‘spiritual adviser’ who told him his whole relationship with Mama was a dreadful sin. He had to repent and renounce her and me.”

Nick winced. “Crap. That’s awful.” He couldn’t even imagine how a little girl would have felt.

“Yeah, but it’s what Mama and I wanted, too.” She tossed her head. “We were better off without a loser like him.”

Oh, sure, like an eight-year-old was mature enough to decide something like that. “Are you saying the letter was it? He didn’t apologize? You never saw him again?” How could a father walk away from his child? From Jude?

She nodded. “A clean break. Like with bones, it heals faster that way.”

Her mother might have told her that, but Nick could see Jude had never healed. “And this all happened at Christmas. Bad memories, for sure.”

“Yeah. Being betrayed—abandoned—at what’s supposed to be some big emotional family time can sour you on the whole holiday.”

She freed her hand from his and poured more ice wine into her glass. “We spent Christmas day ripping up the pictures with that jerk in them. We took his clothes and other stuff to the Salvation Army. Our Christmas things, too. We had roast beef for dinner. We banished Christmas from the house and were better off without it. Mama changed our names back to Benedetto. It’s not like we were legally entitled to his name anyhow, and we sure didn’t want it.”

The words “better off without” rang in his head. The same ones she’d used to describe the loss of her father. Not an eight-year-old’s words. Her mother’s.

What had the woman been thinking? Okay, he could understand the first year. The hurt, bitterness. But after? “Your mom sounds pretty immature. Depriving you of Christmas because some guy turned out to be a jerk.”

She glared at him. “Don’t you dare criticize my mama.”

“Sorry.” Okay, he shouldn’t judge. He didn’t know Jude’s mother. Besides, all he cared about was understanding the vulnerable woman beside him. Finding a way to help.

Silence grew between them. He broke it. “You said there were two strikes? You mean, finding out about your dad, and then him renouncing you and your mom?”

She’d been staring into her glass, apparently lost in thought. Now she glanced up. “No. The second was being dumped by my fiancé last year on December twenty-second.”

“Shit.” She did have bad luck with men at Christmastime. Should he ask what had happened?

Jude’s eyebrows lifted. “Aren’t you going to ask?”

“Trying to decide.”

“Don said I had commitment issues, but he’s the one who did.” She wrinkled her nose. “We met at a New Year’s Eve party, hit it off. Dated, got serious; he proposed in August, and I accepted. We planned a March wedding. Things started to go wrong in the fall.” She slanted him a glance. “Partly about Christmas. His folks live in Kelowna. I’d met them in the summer and liked them. Don wanted us to spend the holidays with them. I said no, I didn’t do Christmas. He said if I loved him and we were going to build a future together, I had to celebrate Christmas.” Now her gaze challenged him.

He held up his hands, palms toward her. “Hey, I’m not pressuring you.”

“Okay.” A hint of a smile brushed her lips. “Wise decision.”

Yeah, but this wasn’t done. Now he understood where she was coming from, but, damn, she had to get past this stuff. Problem was he didn’t have a clue how to help her. Don, a man she’d loved, hadn’t been able to change her mind. What chance did Nick have?

Should he even try? They barely knew each other. What they had was good, so maybe he should just respect her views on Christmas.

They both sipped in silence for a few minutes, and then she said. “Subject closed?”

“Okay.” For now, at least. Until he decided if he wanted to pursue it.

“Speaking of decisions,” she said in a teasing tone that sounded forced, “I’ve been thinking about the four condoms that are left.”

“Lady’s choice.” In bed, he could give her the hug she needed, and she’d let him because it was about sex, not Christmas.

She shrugged. “You pick.”

He deliberated. They needed something to lighten the mood. “The glow-in-the-dark one.”