All I Want for Christmas

Chapter Six

Erin's family was a hoot. Her father was even funnier than Erin. Her sisters were sweet. Their husbands were ... okay, yeah, they could be rude and crude but in a completely inoffensive way that made him laugh. They all welcomed him as if he'd been with Erin for ages, not a total stranger to them, even though it was Christmas Eve and a family party.

The house was a big old house in a well-to-do neighborhood, exquisitely decorated with lush greenery, twinkling white lights everywhere, and a lavishly decorated tree. When he got closer to the tree, he saw with amusement that many of the ornaments were old and even home-made, created and garishly painted by little hands.

"Is this where you grew up?” he asked Erin as she handed him a cup of eggnog.

She nodded.

"I want to see your bedroom,” he murmured and watched her cheeks turn pink.

"Dex!"

"Hey.” He pulled her in close so he could whisper in her ear. “If you can drag me into the women's washroom and have your way with me, I think we can sneak away to your bedroom for a few minutes.” He paused. “Don't worry, I won't collect my debt here."

She laughed breathlessly, and he loved how he could get her going like that.

"Okay,” she said. She leaned her head back on his shoulder to look up into his face.

"Auntie Erin! Auntie Erin! Come show us that thing that tells us where Santa is!"

Dex raised a brow at her.

"It's a Web site,” she told him with a little laugh. “It's tracking Santa's progress."

She'd introduced him to Ashley, Brittany, Courtney and Destiny, and he'd grinned. He would never remember all the names. Numbers he could remember, names not so much. Although the alphabetical thing might help. He followed behind her and the herd of little girls as they went into the den and she opened up the Web site. “See, right now he's in England,” she told them seriously. “And this is where we are.” She pointed to the screen.

"He's coming, he's coming!” They all squealed excitedly and ran from the room. Dex grinned.

"They get a little hyper,” she explained affectionately. She stood up, and Dex moved right up so they were touching, looking at each other.

"Erin?” Her mother appeared in the French doors of the den. Dex jumped back a little, prompting a glimmer of amusement on her mom's face. “We're going to open gifts now. Are you coming?"

"What about Santa?” Dex inquired as he followed the two women out of the room.

"He brings presents for the kids,” Erin explained their family tradition. “They'll open those in the morning. Tonight, we just exchange family presents.” She bit her lip. “Such as they are."

He could see how distressed she was about the whole present thing. She was a bit of a perfectionist, he was coming to realize. It was very sweet.

She was apologizing all over the place about the gifts as they opened their presents, until finally her mother set down the fuzzy socks she was holding and scolded her.

"Erin, just stop,” she said firmly. “You're here, and we love you. It doesn't matter about the presents. You could wrap up dog poop, and we'd still love you."

Dex snorted with laughter but pulled Erin in for a hug.

"Yeah, Erin,” her sisters agreed.

"I don't want dog poop!” Brittany wailed, and everybody laughed.

"It doesn't have to be perfect,” her mother continued, her voice softer now. “You get all caught up in having to have the perfect gift, perfect decorations, everything perfect ... it doesn't have to be perfect."

He saw Erin's hand come up to her face and swipe at a tear. He tightened his arm around her shoulders protectively, and she turned her face into his chest. Aw, hell, she was crying.

"I just wanted to get everyone something they would like,” she sobbed into his sweater. “And I found all these perfect gifts, and they never showed up, and I didn't have time to go shopping because I had all this other stuff to do ... the party...” She sniffled. “...the staff gifts. And all the work that needs to be done by year end.” She fisted her hand in his sweater. Dex looked up at the rest of the family gazing at her in horror and pressed a hand to the back of her silky head. “Then today Cheryl gave me a present, and I didn't even have anything for her! And then I end up giving you guys stupid presents from 7-Eleven, and it just sucks!"

Dex swallowed uncomfortably. “She's been a little stressed lately,” he explained to her family. They all nodded, even the girls quiet now. The only sounds in the room for a long moment were “Silent Night” playing on the stereo and Erin's sobbing.

She lifted a tear-streaked, stricken face then stood up and ran out of the room.

Dex looked around at the people he hardly knew and forced a smile. “Uh..."

Having dashed out of the room completely mortified, Erin headed for her old bedroom. There she sat down on the bed and covered her face with her hands.

What more could go wrong? She knew she'd been stressed but, God, breaking down in front of Dex and her whole family—well, especially in front of Dex—was just wrong. Dex had finally shown interest in her after months of crushing on him from afar, and now she'd completely blown it. She was such a loser.

She sobbed quietly, embarrassment now layered over unhappiness.

What would he think of her? She didn't know if this was considered a date or not but, other than lunch earlier, it was the first time they'd gone out, and here she was, a puddle of misery. This must just be a lovely evening for him, and now he was down there sitting with strangers. Or maybe not. Maybe he'd decided to get while the going was good, make his escape while she was up here crying her mascara off.

She lifted her head, wiped at her face and sniffed. Then she heard a soft knock on the door, and the door opened a crack.

"Erin?"

It was Dex. She swiped more at her eyes and under her nose. She must look hideous.

He poked his head in the door and eyed her cautiously.

"Are you okay?"

She gave a jerky nod. “Yes. I'm mostly embarrassed now."

He came all the way in and closed the door gently behind him. “Don't be embarrassed."

She closed her eyes, felt her cheeks get warm. Her entire face must be as red as a Christmas ornament by now. “I'm sorry I lost it. I've just been..."

"Stressed. You're trying to do too much and make everything perfect. Like your mom said.” He came and sat beside her on the bed, put his arm around her shoulders and hugged her. He stroked her hair and her back. “They just want you for Christmas. The gifts don't matter."

"I know.” She sniffed. Dex reached for a tissue from a box that sat on the table beside the bed and handed it to her. “I feel like such an idiot. I wouldn't have blamed you if you'd left. It's Christmas Eve, and I doubt you want to be sitting here with a loony tune like me."

"This is exactly where I want to be sitting on Christmas Eve,” he said softly. He stroked a finger over her cheek, swiping up one last tear. Their eyes met and held. Erin swallowed, her throat tight.

"Okay,” she whispered. He leaned in and kissed her, a gentle, slow lingering kiss. When he drew back, her heart was pumping madly. She drew in a shaky breath. “Thank you, Dex. You're right, I've been kind of stressed out.” She blew her nose, looking all adorable and pink. He couldn't help but smile. “Sorry,” she apologized again. She smiled brightly. “I feel better now."

"Ready to come back downstairs?"

She nodded. “I just need to fix my face a little."

"You look gorgeous.” Something soft and warm expanded inside her at his words. If he thought she looked gorgeous now, oh man. It was almost enough to make her start crying again.

They went back downstairs.

"I want a hippopotamus for Christmas!” little Ashley announced. “Not dog poop!"

The girls all started singing.

"I want a hippopotamus for Christmas!

"Only a hippopotamus will do.

"I don't want a doll, no dinky tinker toys.

"I want a hippopotamus to play with and enjoy."

Laughter surrounded Erin and Dex as they walked back into the living room.

"I think I know where you get it from,” Dex remarked to Erin a while later, as they went into the dining room for an elaborate buffet. Plates and trays of beautiful hors d'oeuvres, sandwiches, and desserts were arranged over the antique furniture, accented with greenery and candles. “Did you make all this, Mrs. Nordman?"

"Call me Kathy,” she told him. “And yes, I did."

"This is incredible.” He tasted a small savory pastry. “Awesome."

"Thank you.” She looked pleased at his compliment, and Erin grinned.

"Speaking of perfectionists, Mom...” she teased, and her mother laughed, too.

It wasn't long before Anna and Jillian started making noise about getting the girls home to bed, and Dex and Erin also took their leave.

Outside, soft, sparkling snowflakes drifted down from the sky. “Perfect Christmas Eve snow,” Erin said, turning her face up to the pearly glowing sky.

"I love your family,” Dex told her.

"Thanks. So ... do you want to come back to my place for a while?"

"Oh, yeah."

Her tummy did little flips of excitement all the way home. Dex was coming to her place. She pressed a hand to her abdomen as he drove through snowy, quiet streets to her apartment.

She flicked on a light switch as they entered. Her apartment was in an older building, with worn hardwood floors and elaborate woodwork. She didn't know what Dex would think of it, but she liked the charm and character of older buildings. She took his coat and hung it in a small closet then led the way into her living room. She hit another switch, and the tree in the corner lit up.

Dex stood there, surveyed the perfectly decorated tree, the candles and greenery swagging the oak fireplace mantel, the collection of Nutcrackers on the floor, and gave a big sigh.

"What?” she asked, going over to turn on her stereo. Soft Christmas music played on piano surrounded them.

"It's perfect,” he said heavily, and she laughed.

"I'm sorry. I love Christmas. Usually I love Christmas,” she amended. “This year things haven't gone entirely right."

"And that annoys the hell out of you, doesn't it?” They sat down on her couch, the only light in the room the glow of the Christmas tree lights, and she shifted a bit so she could see him.

She liked how he seemed to know her so well already. “Yeah, it does,” she admitted ruefully. She let out a long breath. “I'm working on my perfectionism. But there is one thing that went right this Christmas."

"Oh, yeah?” His hands pulled her closer, and she wanted to climb onto his lap and wrap herself around him. She was softening, heating up, yearning for him. All evening she'd watched him with her family, how he fit in, how he got every joke, and wanted to just jump on him. She'd felt as if she were falling, tumbling head over heels down a slope, dizzy and warm and excited. She wanted to tumble right into his arms and stay there forever.

God, could she be falling in love with him?

"Yeah,” she whispered. He framed her face with his big hands, and their eyes met and held. Then he moved closer, her eyes fluttered shut, and he kissed her, a deep, warm, lush tongue kiss that she could feel right between her thighs. The kiss grew hotter, deeper, his hand on her face holding her there for his mouth as he ate at her, licked her, consumed her.

They drew apart to look at each other wonderingly.

Then she crawled onto his lap, wound her arms around his neck, and he lifted her hips and settled her into place, his grip tight on her, and they were kissing again, mindless, lost.

"I was drunk last night,” she admitted to him long moments later, her voice throaty. “But I knew exactly what I was doing."

He groaned.

"And I know exactly what I'm doing now.” She slid off the couch to the floor between his knees. Her fingers went to the button of his pants then slowly drew the zipper down. He was big and hard beneath the fly, and she bit her lip as she opened his pants, tugged them down a bit and reached inside. She stroked him through the soft cotton of his underwear, heard his sharply indrawn breath. She glanced up at his face through her lashes. His head was back, eyes closed, face tight with what looked like pain.

"I want to taste you,” she whispered. “Lift.” As he raised his hips, she pulled his pants and underwear down so that he was revealed to her, and now it was her turn to suck in a breath. God, he was gorgeous. His penis rose up, thick and long, darkly flushed, beautifully shaped. She took him in her hands, stroked him and felt him swell even more.

"Erin,” he groaned.

"Mmm?” She bent and kissed the head of his penis then gave a little lick to taste the drop of fluid there. She inhaled the scent of him, musky and male and warm.

He put his hands in her hair. “I know you owe me,” he said. “But you don't have to do this."

"What do you want to do?” she murmured, drawing back a bit and smiling at him. His eyes met hers, and they were hot and dark. His cheeks were flushed, and she felt a little thrill at seeing Dex Mitchell, always so professional, polished and controlled, sprawled on her couch looking so disturbed and aroused, and all because of her. She shivered.

"I want to fuck you,” he muttered, hands tightening in her hair, not looking away from her eyes. “So bad."

Another jolt of sensation went through her, and she wanted him, too, with a hot, aching yearning that was almost unbearable. His eyes were questioning as he watched her, and she nodded, a quick jerky nod. “Yes,” she finally whispered.

She moved back to sit on her heels, and he stood up, tugged his pants back up and tucked himself away, not bothering with the zipper. Then he reached for her hands and pulled her gently to her feet. “Where's your bedroom?” He brushed his mouth across hers in a tender kiss.

She led the way, walking in front of him, both hands behind her holding his.

She reached for the lamp beside the bed then turned to look at him inquiringly. He nodded, reached behind him and pulled his sweater off over his head. She watched him, fascinated, saliva pooling in her mouth at the sight of his broad, bare chest, lightly dusted with golden-brown hair. His muscles were defined and hard, biceps rounded as he held the sweater in his hands and looked back at her. She smiled and clicked the lamp on.

A soft pool of golden light fell around her, and she too drew her sweater over her head and dropped it onto the floor. She was wearing what she thought of as her Christmas underwear—a red lace bra and matching lace tanga panties.

"Very festive,” Dex murmured, moving closer and stroking his fingers over the red lace.

"You like it?"

"Oh yeah.” He stroked his fingers over the tops of her breasts, revealed by the low-cut bra. She closed her eyes as his touch sizzled over her. She felt him undo her skirt, and it dropped to the floor. She stood there in her scarlet lingerie. “Wow.” His eyes admired her as she opened hers to look at him. He ran his hands down her sides to her hips and back up, resting on her waist and pulling her against him as he kissed her again. She put her hands on his waist, too, firm and warm, pressed her full, aching breasts against him longingly.

She couldn't think clearly, she was so overwhelmed with need and excitement. She wanted him naked, so she shoved at his pants, still unfastened, until they fell to the floor and he stepped out of them.

He gave her a little push and, with a gasp, she fell back onto her bed, the down duvet puffing up around her. As he joined her she caught a glimpse of his nude body, wide shoulders tapering to a lean waist and hips, long muscular thighs dusted with hair. Oh, God, it was almost unbearable, the tension that rose in her, twisting tighter and tighter.

He stroked her body, still adorned in the sexy lace lingerie, cupped her breast, trailed his fingers down over her tummy, making her shiver with delight. He traced the edge of the thong underwear, over one hip bone, around behind her over the cheek of her butt that was so, so sensitive. She quivered helplessly beneath him, desperate with need, aching to have him touch her there ... so close to where his fingers were.

He slid his hand around front again and, this time, covered her mound, holding her there. She throbbed against his hand and lifted her pelvis to press herself farther into his palm. He kissed her, holding her sex like that as he devoured her with his mouth. It was so heart-wrenchingly intimate she thought she was going to die of yearning.

She pulsed into his hand, wanting more, needing more, but still he ate at her mouth, used lips, tongue and teeth to drive her crazy, bring her to a frenzy of desire, while his hand just held her vulva. She could feel the dampness of her panties, knew she was dripping there.

"Dex,” she begged. “Touch me."

"I am touching you."

"I need more,” she moaned into his mouth. She lifted her hips against his hand, and he laughed softly.

"But it's my turn, remember?"

She tossed her head back and forth on the pillow. Shit, he couldn't be so cruel as to get her so close then stop. But then his fingers slipped beneath the lace panties and slid into the slippery creases of her labia, stroking her wetness, one finger tenderly finding her clitoris and rubbing.

"Oh ... oh!” she cried as she convulsed with a quick, hard climax, a shower of stars sparkling behind her eyes. She shuddered beneath his hand, and he kissed her again, taking her soft gasps into his mouth.

"There,” he murmured moments later, withdrawing his hand.

"What do you mean, ‘there'?” she demanded, her voice weak. “It was supposed to be your turn."

"Who's counting?"

She struggled to open her eyes and look at him. His lips curved into a wicked little smile that made her want him all over again. “We have all night. Right?"

"Right."

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