Silent Night, Sinful Night Page 14

  Johnny wanted to show her something new that would make the most of her sensitivity, something that would ensure his place in her heart as well as in her body’s memory of physical ecstasy.

  “You have on too many clothes,” she murmured. “You’ve seen me naked in all manner of positions—a slave to your torment. So it’s only fair for me to gawk at you now!”

  She giggled and Johnny held a finger to his lips, nodding toward the wall that adjoined Edgar’s bedroom. “When you see me in the altogether, don’t scream and run off,” he teased. “Three others would make the most of your naked, aroused state—in nooks of this house where you’d never find your way out.”

  Tess nipped her lush lower lip. God, she looked so innocent yet so . . . knowing.

  “Silence must be our code,” he continued as he unbuttoned his shirt. “We can’t make any noise now, and we can’t act as though any of this has happened between us.”

  She nodded again, even as her eyes followed his fingers down the front of his shirt. How he loved the way her lips parted and her eyes widened as he bared his shoulders and chest. Tess reached out and he stepped closer to the bed, reveling in the airy stroke of her fingertips through his hair.

  “Forced silence makes the loving more intense, you know,” he murmured in a strained voice. “Think of it as immersing ourselves in sensations we can compare later, if you—” Johnny sucked air when she playfully gripped his erection. Damn her, she was giggling soundlessly. Doing this to force his silence and show him how difficult it would be for them to remain undetected.

  Or was this a fallacy? Maybe Edgar was already aware of their games in the bathroom. After all, Penney had caught them kissing in the vestibule. The candy maker’s magic might’ve included ways of spying, from the first, that Johnny had no idea about, to confirm that he wasn’t double dipping with Daphne and Blythe.

  But this was no time for such concerns to come between him and this lush, loving woman. Tess . . . yesssssssss. He kicked off his pants and eased onto the bed with her, testing the groan of the mattress ropes. When he rose to his knees, straddling her, Tess opened her arms.

  Such a sweet, sweet kiss, lying against her soft breasts and belly, skin to skin. It was all he could do not to plunge into the slit that begged him for attention: Tess’s hips undulated beneath him as she surrendered to his lips with that adventurous vulnerability he’d already fallen for.

  How long since she’d held a man? Johnny sensed Tess had been a faithful wife, and the way she welcomed him, as a lover she’d met mere hours ago, inspired him: He would make this a rendezvous she’d never forget, no matter what happened with Edgar.

  “Lie absolutely still, no matter what. Agreed?” he whispered as he nuzzled her soft hair.

  “Only if you agree to the same thing when it’s my turn to torment you,” she purred. Her chuckle sent a delicious jolt of need through him. “Turnabout’s fair play. All’s fair in love and war.”

  She had him there. Tess had him trapped between her thighs, too, positioned to enter with just a lift of her hips and his surge forward. Johnny forced himself to his knees again, turning to face her feet. Her gasp confirmed his suspicions: She wasn’t accustomed to having a man look at her most intimate parts.

  “God, Tess,” he rasped, fingering the deep pink folds. The lemon scent of her bathwater lingered there, with the alluring fragrance from deep within her molten body, so responsive . . . so open to him from this angle.

  The first touch of his tongue made her squirm, but not from trying to get away. Her thighs quivered and she grasped his hips as he leaned lower. When he looked between his legs, Johnny saw the ecstasy—the yearning—on her face. “Absolutely still, remember?”

  Tess nodded and braced her legs in this open position, her slit and its blond curls fully displayed. He dipped down for another sip, telling himself he should proceed slowly to enhance their mutual enjoyment—but what a futile idea. She tasted warm and sweet, and with the first insertion of his tongue, Johnny knew this woman had total, effortless control over him. He would be a fool for her, too eager and needy to hold back.

  As he licked from the top of her slit to the bottom, running his tongue between the folds, her body strained to remain motionless. He gently inserted a digit from each hand to hold her open, stroking her flesh with his fingertips as he circled her sensitive little nub with his tongue.

  Her gasp filled the room, filled his heart: Tess responded to every nuance, shying away from nothing. If he wasn’t careful, they’d both be screaming. Johnny hated to stop, but his cock was throbbing to be where his tongue had blazed a warm, willing trail.

  As though she knew he was about to switch positions, Tess caught him gently in her grip to knead him as though she were milking a cow. Johnny’s eyes flew open. Had she been reaching for him because his cock dangled above her face, or did she mean to make him take his own torment, indeed? He paused as her fingers kneaded his member, gently yet with an insistence that had him ready to fire off a first round.

  “You moved!” he accused through clenched teeth.

  “So did you.”

  “But we agreed—”

  “You suggested and I went along—for as long as I could stand it,” she replied breathlessly. “No fair driving me up to the ceiling with that naughty tongue of yours if I can’t take you with me.”

  Johnny grinned in spite of the way fire spiraled inside him. “Let me turn around. I want to watch your face when—”

  “That’s more like it. While this is an intriguing view, I much prefer your eyes and nose and . . . lips.”

  Such Southern gentility, expressed in that understated drawl, drew him even deeper into this entanglement. Johnny swung around, thinking how he might draw out their play yet distance himself a bit.

  “Stick that thing inside me and love me like you mean it,” she said in a guttural whisper. “I don’t care what happens in a few days, or a few weeks. Right now I need a man who can’t hold back—can’t resist me on an animal level, regardless of the rules that define relationships.”

  She’d said several mouthfuls, but this was no time to analyze it all. How could any man resist such an exquisite woman? Had her husband acted so detached she felt excluded from what should have been their most intimate moments? Johnny had never been married, but he’d had a long-term lover. He couldn’t imagine his woman feeling more like the cold, wet spot on the sheets than like the impassioned partner who’d helped create it. “Tess, I hope—”

  “Well, I need,” she rasped, wrapping her legs around his hips. “And I want!”

  Johnny slid inside her, grimacing at the hot, tight pleasure of her inner grip. He angled his hips to delve deeper. Tess’s thighs tightened, urging him to rock and stroke even as he valiantly held back to prolong their first coming together. She panted his name, and his body overruled any implications of her plea.

  Could Tess separate herself afterward? Or would she cling, equating his surge of passion to a promise that he’d be with her forever?

  And what if she gets pregnant? It’s been so long. She caught you unprepared—

  Too late for reason. Johnny slipped into that state of arousal that knew only forward and sought that state of pleasure expressible only on an innate, physical plane. Tess embraced his entire body with hers, writhing to meet his thrusts. Her eyes closed and her lips parted, painting the loveliest portrait of passion he’d ever seen as the candles flickered beside their heads. No matter what came afterward, this moment would etch itself indelibly on his soul.

  “Tess, if there’s a baby—”

  “I’ll have someone to love again.”

  “Or if this doesn’t work out—”

  “It’s still the best damn thing that’s ever happened to me,” she breathed against his ear. “Don’t make sense of it, Johnny. Make me a woman who knows the pleasure she’s capable of giving—and receiving.”

  He closed his eyes to concentrate on her, for the few remaining moments his brain could engage.
He arched inside her, to stroke Tess’s most-buried treasure with his hard tip. She clenched her teeth as she reached toward a pinnacle he knew she’d never before approached. And as Johnny realized how this sweet woman honored him with the entrusting of her body and soul, he lost control. His mind shattered as he gave in to uncontrollable spasms of heat and pleasure that nearly made him pass out. He couldn’t recall ever responding so intensely, for so many surges.

  And then he couldn’t recall anything at all. He simply collapsed.

  Tess buried her face in the crook of Johnny’s neck as the convulsions overtook her. She held him hard, afraid she’d lose her grip on reality if she let go, even as his shuddering body drove her on. What was this madness? This wild, giddy quivering in her nether regions? Was this how passion felt?

  She wondered if Johnny had sensed her inexperience—had wished, perhaps, he hadn’t responded to her lurid suggestions. Yet his breathing sounded as rapid and shallow as hers. And judging from the grimace and gasp that had escaped him just before he plunged, he’d enjoyed these sensations—his climax—far more than Henry had ever seemed to. And she had made this possible!

  Tess took inventory of this sensual moment: the solid weight of Johnny’s body, which fit against her so perfectly . . . the warm velvet of his skin . . . the tangy scent surrounding their sated bodies . . . the slick wetness oozing down her thighs even as his manhood remained rigid inside her . . . the salt of his damp hairline when she kissed him. His murmured questions came back to her: What if there was a baby? What if this had been a big mistake, getting involved too soon?

  Yet a sense of peace prevailed. She hoped this moment would last forever—at least in her mind—because even if she never again made love to Johnny Gazara, he’d shown her what she’d been missing.

  A shadow stirred near the door: Edgar Penney had peered in and had then disappeared. She felt more concern for Johnny’s fate than her own. She could return to Memphis, but she had no idea if the lover in her arms had other options. She knew so damn little about either man, yet she rested, content. Whatever happened, happened.

  And wasn’t that a Christmas miracle? Not so long ago, she’d have tied herself in knots with worry. Guilt. Yet now, she saw no need to tell Johnny their employer had caught them. Why ruin the most fabulous experience of her life?

  He rolled to one side of her, remaining in her embrace. How soft his hair felt against her skin . . . how pleasantly rough the masculine shadow along his jaw. “Thank you,” she prayed against his neck.

  “Believe me, Tess,” he whispered. “You were so damn wonderful.”

  She hugged him harder. “You don’t have to tell me—”

  “Oh, but I do.” Johnny rose on one elbow to support his head in his hand. His eyes glimmered in the candles’ glow. “Don’t take this wrong, all right? I . . . lived with a woman for a long while before I came here. And I never shared what you and I are recovering from. Incredible. Absolutely, undeniably the best sex I’ve ever had.”

  Tess closed her eyes. “If you’re just saying that to encourage me, I don’t want to know.”

  He chuckled ruefully. “I would never lie to you about such a thing.”

  Strangely unruffled by his mention of a former lover, Tess ran a finger up the hollow of his spine. “Why’d you leave her? Not that it’s my business to—”

  “Francine DuPont was a great patron of the arts—as well she could afford to be,” he replied in a faraway voice. “She hired me to create stained-glass murals in her town home in Denver. Enticed me into her bed with pretty promises of introducing me to other socialites who’d commission my work.”

  Tess’s eyebrows rose. “And?”

  A mirthless laugh escaped him. “Her husband returned unannounced from his diplomatic post abroad, so I left without so much as my clothing—not to mention going unpaid for most of my work.”

  She couldn’t find it in her heart to chide him for getting involved with a married woman. Odd, how her standards faded away in Johnny’s presence.

  “Francine had claimed she was a widow—had hidden away all evidence of a man in her life to maintain her ruse while I worked for her.” He cleared his throat sheepishly. “She knew all along that Mr. DuPont would return, of course. Which is why I vowed to never, ever involve myself with a wealthy woman again. Bitches, all of them! She took advantage of my talent and generous nature, knowing I had no source of income, save myself.”

  Tess’s heart stopped. While she truly was a widow, she’d not revealed her circumstances to Edgar or Johnny. Would either of them guess she’d fled a man who wanted her money, as Spec Penrose had on the train?

  A worm of regret wiggled inside her, but she wouldn’t—couldn’t—let on about the lucrative business that was now half hers. No need for anyone in this little Colorado outpost to know about the life she’d run from. And no one in Memphis had any way to find her.

  When Johnny’s lips sought hers, she melted against him. She would fully experience the pleasure of the present, without letting her past dampen it. Daphne and Blythe were to coach her tomorrow morning, before their first charity event in Cripple Creek. This rebirth—this fresh start—would be every bit as profound as making love to Johnny Gazara, and there would be no looking back. Once she donned her elf costume to give candy to eager little orphans, Tess Bennett, the lonely woman from the mansion in Memphis, would no longer exist, would she?

  8

  “Oh, looky! Candy canes with green and purple stripes!”

  “Do they taste green and purple? Or do they set your mouth on fire, like the Dragon Candy? That’s my favorite!”

  “My stockin’s so full it’s gonna spill out! Thanks, Elfie!” Tess smiled at the children who’d gathered around her in the hotel’s decorated ballroom. Their pinched faces brightened as they discovered the treats in their felt stockings, and she found herself drawn to every one of them, tucking flyaway curls behind ears and looking deeply into their wide eyes. Who could’ve guessed they would touch her heart this way? Did one of the girls have Claire’s shy, dimpled smile? Or did she only imagine her daughter’s features because she so badly wanted to see her?

  “How’s it going, Tess?” Blythe, also decked out in her formfitting suit of short green overalls with a white shirt and candy-striped tights, tossed back the pom-pom of her red fur hat. “You’re a natural for this job!”

  Tess shrugged, excruciatingly happy. “So many children without families. What a fine thing Edgar does, handing out these gifts.”

  “He’s a kid at heart. Was an orphan himself, you know, until a kindly old couple adopted him to help with making candy in their kitchen. That’s how it all started.” Blythe smiled brightly as a new bunch of children entered the ballroom, their eyes aglow with anticipation. “If today’s orders are any indication, the season’s going to be the best ever for Penney Candy. See those merchants and mine owners crowding Daphne’s desk to place their orders? I’d better go help her.”

  Well-heeled gentlemen in vested suits were lined up at the table draped in a candy-striped tablecloth, grinning at the other Penney Candy elf. As Daphne enticed them with her display of colorful, imaginative candies, what man wouldn’t increase his order? They were dealing with a flirtatious blue-eyed blonde whose clothing fit her like a second skin. Edgar Penney might be an eccentric recluse, but he knew how to market his product to male merchants.

  “Say, lady, can ya gimme two of those stockings?”

  Tess turned, thinking how she should phrase her polite but firm refusal—until she saw the little boy’s twisted leg and the crutch that supported him. He could’ve been a carrot-top Tiny Tim stepping out of the Dickens Christmas story. He gestured toward the wall where more children sat, eagerly awaiting their turns to come forward.

  “My sister Gracie, she’ll get trampled if she walks over here,” he explained in a winsome voice. He was probably ten but seemed much older. “Last year a kid yanked her stocking out of her hand, but I’ll whack ’em with my crutch if somebo
dy grabs it from me!”

  Tess’s heart rose into her throat. What a brave little boy—and what a loving brother. “Shall we go together? I’d like to wish Gracie a Merry Christmas,” she answered in a quavery voice.

  He led Tess by the hand, and then she knelt before a redheaded girl who looked like a doll in her wicker wheelchair . . . a doll with only one shoe protruding from her skirt. How could it be that both brother and sister had malformed legs? How long had they lived at the orphanage? It seemed unlikely anyone would adopt such a pair. . . .

  Gracie flashed a gap-toothed grin. Coppery curls bounced around her face as she peered at her bright, shiny candy. “You weally are one of Santa’s elves, huh?” she queried.

  “I am!” Tess tweaked her freckled nose. “And Santa knows you’ve been very, very good this year.”

  “Good enough that he’ll bwing me and Stefan a mama? We pway weally hard, but we been waiting . . . and waiting.”

  Tess could barely look this angel, Gracie, in the eye. Stefan stood beside his sister, awaiting Tess’s response as though his young life depended on it. How could she possibly answer such a heart-rending request? “I-I’ll remind him, honey,” she murmured.

  Stefan shrugged. He’d heard that before. “Lotta kids are askin’ Santa for moms, I guess,” he said, glancing toward the children who headed toward the door. “But thanks for the stockings. And if ya see that Mr. Penney who’s on the package, tell him he makes the best dang candy!”

  “I’ll do that, Stefan.”

  Heart thudding, she watched the children line up by the ballroom door and waved at Gracie and her brother when they turned to smile at her.

  “See ya next Chwistmas!” the little girl sang out, waving a pink and green Pinwheel Pop.