Red-Hot Santa Page 3
“I need to see to Cleo first,” he said.
She stopped dead in her tracks. Cleo?
He grinned at her. “I rent the place above the bar.”
“I don’t understand. This is where you live?”
“Most nights. When I have a day off, I go out to Gram’s, but this…” He gestured toward the wooden stairs leading up to a second story door. “This is my home away from home.”
She followed him up. “And Cleo?”
“You’re going to love her.”
Max winced. She was sure whoever Cleo was, she was not going to love her. She’d hated everyone Jax had dated before. What would make this one any different? Especially since she appeared to live with him.
Double damn.
“Why did you agree to take me home if you weren’t going that way?” she asked, trying to figure out what her options were. Truly, she’d preferred not to be stuck in a truck with him for a half hour if his heart already belonged to someone else.
“I haven’t seen you in two years. Did you really expect me to say no?” He took keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door. “Besides, it’s no big deal. I’ll just crash at Gram’s tonight.”
A soft breeze brought the tang of his aftershave to her nose. She took a deep breath; she’d always loved the way he smelled.
He held out a hand to stay her. “You may want to step back for a minute while Cleo greets me.”
Great. She was going to have to watch another woman throw herself into his arms.
He squared his stance and then opened the door. Max watched a female throw herself into his arms, all right. Or, rather, climb up into them.
She laughed as a black feline, more kitten than cat, climbed Jax like a tree, not stopping until she was safe in his arms and nudging her chin against his.
“Cleo,” Jax said, “I want you to meet Max. Max…” He turned and smiled at her even as he scratched the cat behind the ears. “This is Cleo.”
Max leaned forward, wondering if her relief was obvious, but not really caring. She was just happy Cleo wasn’t a six foot blonde with model good looks she’d have to add to the top of her Most Hated list.
“Hey, Cleo,” she said softly, holding her hand palm down so the cat could take a whiff of her. Then just as sweet as you please, Cleo rubbed up against the digits, her rumbling purr audible. Max ran her hand along her soft, warm fur.
“I would never have figured you for a cat person.”
“I’m not.”
Jax walked inside the apartment and Max followed. He switched on a light and closed the door behind them before placing the cat on the back of a chair.
“Long story short, Cleo is Gram’s. She’s just visiting while Gram takes a vacation.”
“Vacation?”
He grimaced. “Yeah. She went on a cruise and won’t be back until next week.” He walked toward the back and switched on another light to what looked like the kitchen.
“I’m surprised she didn’t leave her in the barn.”
“Yeah, well, Cleo isn’t a barn cat, exactly…” He adjusted what appeared to be a thermostat on the wall. “The heat shouldn’t take but a minute.”
“I’m fine. I’ve been through worse.”
He looked at her. “Yeah. We both have, I think. Easy to forget that sometimes.”
He disappeared into the other room. Max stared at Cleo who stared back, at least until she heard the sound of food hitting a bowl. Then she was off like a shot, skidding to a stop on the kitchen tile.
Max unzipped her leather jacket and looked around the place. Hell, it was neater than hers. And while the black, contemporary furnishings may have come with the place, the small touches did not. There were books in the case, a plant on the floor and photos in frames on the shelves. She stepped nearer, easily recognizing Jax’s grandmother and brother Jason in the pictures. And then she spied one of herself…
Her heart skipped a beat as she picked up the simple four-by-six-inch frame of a photo shot taken about five years ago while they were serving together. They were both in desert fatigues and Jax had draped his arm casually over her shoulders.
There was nothing casual, however, about the way she smiled at him.
She squinted at her expression. How was it possible he never knew?
Then it occurred to her he had known. He just hadn’t returned her feelings.
“Long time ago, huh?” he asked, coming to stand beside her.
“Huh?” She awkwardly put the frame back down. “Um, yeah. A different lifetime, it seems.”
He ran his hand over his hair. “Yeah.”
She stared into his face, wondering if she was just being stupid or if she’d been made that way. She started to ask if he was ready, when she noticed he’d taken off his coat, most likely leaving it in the kitchen.
“Maxi?”
“Huh?”
Jax grinned at her. “That’s what Chuck called you back at the bar.”
“Oh. Yeah.” Was it her, or was it suddenly warmer in here?
“I’m surprised it didn’t rate at least one of your famous sneers. It would have in the past.”
She laughed, remembering all the names she’d been called in elementary school, Maxi Pad being by far the worst. She doubted she had to remind him of that, since he’d fought right alongside her a couple of times.
“That was until I was arrested for assault.”
He lifted a brow.
“Joking. I’m joking.” She shifted on her feet, noticing the way he looked at the front of her jacket as if trying to see what lay underneath. “People seem to prefer to call me Maxi…so I let them.”
He didn’t say anything for a long moment and then he cleared his throat. “It suits you.”
“Yeah, well, that doesn’t mean you get to call me that. I’m still Max to you. Try calling me anything else and you’ll earn more than a sneer.”
They both laughed, but as soon as the moment passed, she became all too aware that they were alone. Together. In his apartment. After midnight.
Her heart beat an irregular rhythm in her chest and she swore she could actually hear her blood rushing through her veins like water through a pipe. How dumb she’d been to think a tight pair of jeans and push-up bra would be enough to get his attention when nearly twenty years of clothing changes had not.
She ran her tongue over her dry lips. “I guess we’d better get going…”
Jax met her gaze solidly and didn’t say anything for a long moment. She shoved her hands deeper into her jacket pockets and burrowed into the black leather.
“Listen, why don’t you spend the night…” he said, his voice trailing.
She looked around nervously. There was only the one bedroom that she could see.
“The couch is a queen sleeper.”
She turned back toward him.
“I know I told you I’d take you, and if you insist, of course, I will. But now that we’re here and warm…”
Warm…
No, she was hot. Sweltering hot. And her state had nothing to do with the temperature outside.
“Here,” he said. “Let me take your coat.”
He reached to presumably help her take it off. She automatically started to shrug off the attention, then instead took a deep breath, turned and allowed him to help her.
Was it her, or did his fingers linger just that much longer at the nape of her neck? Skim down her arms when no contact was needed?
She swallowed thickly and swiveled back to face him, every inch of her yearning to feel him touch her more purposefully, more meaningfully, starting with a kiss…
“Max?”
Her name was little more than a whisper. Her gaze fell to his mouth, a mouth she’d seen a million times before, but had never so badly wanted to feel it against hers.
She was sure if he didn’t kiss her right then and there she’d self-combust, leaving only the tiny particles that would scatter in the stiff winter breeze, leaving no hint she’d ever existed.
4
JACKSON SWORE HE could still feel her hot bottom on his lap.
He grimaced and shifted uncomfortably, no longer wearing the Santa pants to hide the telltale signs of arousal. Her wiggling against him had left him far more turned on than he would ever have expected back at the bar. He wasn’t sure he’d completely recovered from the moment.
Who was he kidding? The only thing responsible for his mental meanderings now was the sexy woman standing in front of him. Someone who had once been very familiar, but now seemed more like a stranger.
It didn’t make any sense. Max had always been…well, Max. What in the hell had happened to her in the past two years to turn her into this tantalizing parcel of hotness?
One minute he’d been counting off the seconds when his brief stint as Barracks’ Santa would end and…the next, she’d stepped in front of him, hands on her curvy hips, and time had ground to a halt.
He’d had at least twenty women sit on his lap before her, not all of them innocently (Genie had wriggled so suggestively she’d nearly injured him). But the idea of letting Max climb on board had left him so tongue-tied, he’d barely been able to speak.
And now he’d just suggested she spend the night…
If he knew what was good for him, he’d grab his coat and drive her sweet bottom to her aunt’s place. Now.
But at that moment he didn’t care much about what was good for him. He was too focused on what he wanted. And right now, he wanted her…
She licked her full lips in the same way that had driven him to distraction earlier. He nearly groaned at sight of her pink tongue dipping out between her straight, smooth teeth, her actions causing the plump flesh to glisten.
“Are you sure this is a good idea…?”
The question was said so quietly, he nearly didn’t hear it.
But he had…
And his answer was to do what he’d been wanting to all night: kiss her.
OH…SWEET…SALVATION…
The last thing Max expected was for Jax to kiss her. She may have wanted it—wanted it? She craved it to the pads of her feet—but she’d somehow managed to convince herself that not only was he not interested in kissing her, he’d be offended if she kissed him.
Yet now his hot mouth pressed against hers, his tongue seeking entrance. Permission all too willingly granted.
Oh, yes…
His kiss was even sexier than she imagined it might be. And that was saying a lot considering she’d done a whole lot of imagining over the past decade and a half, her fantasy abilities growing with each chronological milestone she reached, every intimate experience she encountered.
This one kiss was better than all the kisses she’d ever enjoyed…combined.
What was that humming sound? Oh. It was her. And not only was she making strange, hungry noises, she was leaning into him…
Oh, was she ever leaning into him.
Max snaked her arms under his and made full-on contact, her fingers digging into the back of his denim shirt. If there had been any question of his physical awareness of her earlier, there was no mistaking it now: his hard length pressed insistently against her lower belly, telling her in no uncertain terms where he most wanted to be.
Exactly where she wanted him to be.
He caught her by the shoulders, as out of breath as she was. “Wait, wait, wait…”
She didn’t want to wait. She’d waited long enough.
“This is…crazy…insane…”
She nodded. It was.
“Where did this come from? We’ve never…”
She was incapable of words. Hell, just then, she was incapable of breathing worth a damn. “We’re friends.”
She smiled at that. “Yes, we are.”
He was her best friend. The one person in the entire world she’d always known she could turn to if she needed anyone, someone to talk to about whatever was bothering her…
Until now. Now, she couldn’t have uttered a word if she tried.
“I don’t want…I mean, the last thing…”
He released her shoulders and she felt as if he’d just dropped her onto her face from a second story balcony.
She watched him pace away, then back again, running his hands through his hair again and again.
“This is nuts. We’re friends. I don’t want to lose that.”
“Who says we have to?”
He stopped five feet away and stared at her. “Is this a good idea?” he asked, searching her face.
“I don’t know,” she whispered. “But it feels…”
Good? Phenomenal? Incredible?
She barely heard his groan before he placed his hands on either side of her face and kissed her again, this time within an inch of her life.
Yes…
Red-hot sensation swept over her, making her feel everything, yet nothing at all except a deep, needful hunger for his tongue against hers. She tunneled her fingers under his T-shirt, running them along his sides before curving them against his back, holding tight. So good, so right. So hot…
She gasped when she felt him slide his hands under her shirt, his knuckles grazing her stomach before he cupped both her breasts through her bra, then worked his way under it. As his thumbs rasped over her stiff nipples, fireworks erupted, unleashing a flood of emotion that weakened her bones, leaving her completely dependent on him to hold her upright.
He ripped his mouth from hers and bent his head, licking each of her nipples, squeezing her breasts just short of the brink of pain before drawing her right nipple deep into the hot depths of his mouth.
Max stretched her neck and moaned as he licked and sucked, the pool of need between her thighs deepening, widening, until she was sure she had creamed through her jeans.
She breathlessly cradled his head in her hands and drew him back up, kissing him hard, unable to get enough of him. He tasted, felt, smelled so good. Better than any one man had a right to.
Unable to stop herself, she slid her hand down between them, not stopping until she cupped the hard ridge of his sex under his jeans. She moaned at the thick length of him. Needing to feel more, she popped the steel buttons, not stopping until her fingers were inside his boxers and she held his throbbing flesh in her palm.
Oh, sweet hell…
She stroked him almost reverently, then squeezed, as if claiming possession.
His low groan fed her need.
As if he couldn’t wait any longer, he opened the front of her jeans and pushed the denim over her hips, half taking her panties right with them. She stepped out of one leg and was about to step out of the other when he cupped her crotch, and stopped her breath.
He dragged his mouth from hers, his groan deeper. “God, you’re so wet, so hot…”
Fingers sought and found access to the source of her heat. When his thumb grazed her clit, she bit on her bottom lip to keep from crying out. When that same thumb worked back and forth over her slick vagina, then thrust up deep inside her, she couldn’t do anything but cry out, clutching his shoulders for dear life.
As she staved off orgasm with little hope of succeeding, she absently wondered why all this seemed so new to her…so powerful. Surely, she’d known her fair share of lovers, beginning with Johnny Denton on the couch in the basement of his parents’ house just before her eighteenth birthday. Sure, the event hadn’t been anything memorable…and thankfully she’d been curious enough to push on to her next lover, determined to discover what everybody was raving about.
But this…
This…
She cried out his name, coming so hard she was sure the only thing supporting her was his hand and the phenomenal things it was doing to her between her legs.
“Oh my God…” she murmured again and again.
She kissed him lingeringly as he continued to stroke her.
Then he grasped her womanhood solidly in his hand. “I want yo
u.” His kiss gained momentum. “I want to feel you, be inside you…”
Yes.
Max wasn’t sure if she’d merely thought the word or said it, but her response was unmistakable.
He backed her toward the bedroom and she went, pushing back his denim shirt and tugging up his T-shirt as they went, not finishing one before moving onto the other while he did the same with her coat and top and bra. They reached for each other’s jeans at the same time, fumbling until they gave up and did their own, hers still wrapped around one ankle as they tumbled to the bed.
Hurry, she wanted to whisper, before he changed his mind again.
Then, finally, he was sheathed and sliding into her to the hilt.
Max’s back came up off the bed and her lungs seized, refusing air, a dark, throbbing heat diving deep, taking hold of her, making her tremble. She didn’t think she’d ever known such a complete, utter connection with another human being. Until now. He filled her not only physically, but she felt inextricably joined with him in ways that transcended description.
He moved and a moan ripped from her throat from an untouched place she didn’t recognize. It might have scared her if it were anyone else but Jax. But it was Jax. And he was all she’d ever need.
JACKSON HADN’T FELT the need to come so fast since he was a teen groping one of the Pearson twins in the cab of Gram’s old Chevy truck.
No, not even then…
He took in the intoxicating expression of the woman under him thinking there was no way this could be his Max. Surely by now she should have batted him about the ears. Pushed him away and told him she was just joking.
But it was Max, and he was about to lose it totally…
Quick, what were the delay tactics he used to employ? Mentally disassembling his M-16 used to do the trick, but when he thought about his gun, all he could see was his thick shaft sinking into Max’s sweet flesh inch by inch.
He grit his back teeth together and froze, his arms threatening to give out from under him where he held himself above her. Please don’t let her move, please don’t let her…
She moved.
Damn molten lava, he was going to lose it…
He did.