Chapter Seven

CHAPTER SEVEN

ANDREAS

Z eva gasps, her eyes widening as she stares at me. “You wanna be with me?”

I stand still. “Yes.”

“I’m a fluff journalist and you’re like a very cute Bad Santa.”

I grunt. She is correct about us being opposites. Where she is cheerful, I’m a grouch. “And we’ll have to nail down what you can and can’t write about me.”

“I’m guessing nothing about being a criminal?”

“No.” My mouth dries.

“Huh,” she says. “What about an exclusive about how you let the government chase their own tails?’”

I pull my fingers through my hair, not sure if she is yanking my chains or not. “I’ll understand if you said no. My connections to the mafia are enough to scare anyone. Add a dead wife to the mix and that is a recipe for disaster.” But Zeva isn’t like any other woman. She’s strong and quirky. It’s impossible not to love her dry humor and lopsided smile.

She set the box down before facing me. She cups my jaw in a way that almost brings me to my knees, but I hold still for her rebuff. “I’m not so shallow that I’d be jealous of your past and I’m not blind to the fact that loving Amber shaped you into the man you are right now. You left the mafia to be with the woman you love.”

“That decision came too late,” I say with regret.

She continues as if I haven’t spoken. “Out of all the towns and cities, you picked Magnolia because your aunt lives here.”

“She’s a thorn under my nail.”

“She’s family, and you’d be devastated without her.”

“That too,” I close my eyes, basking in the seduction of her skin against mine and the scent of her shea butter hypnotizing my nose.

“You’d do anything for the people you care about, Andreas Lister. You’re thoughtful even though you don’t show it. And you’re the grumpiest of the people you love. So if you’re offering me a place in your heart, how could I say no?”

“Zeva?” My breath stilled in my lungs.

“The answer is yes, Andreas. I want to see where this goes with you.”

Slowly, I lower my head, giving her time to retreat before I fuse her mouth under mine. Our kiss is tender and just as sweet as the first time. I drink all the sensations, causing my body to sway against her. I shudder at the softness of her breasts pressing against my chest and the electrical current charging the surrounding air. My hand grip her nape as her loose strands of tight curls tickled my skin, setting my hand on fire.

“You know the man I was. What I did.” I trail kisses along her jaw and at the top of the pulsing vein along her throat.

“That was your past, Andreas,” she says, but when my kisses trail to her collarbone, a husky moan escapes her lips.

I lift my head and wait for her eyes to open. They do, and it is as if she is dragged from a trance. Her large velvety brown eyes are glossy with the same desire coursing through my veins.

Might heavens…

“It’s the life I know. I know it as well as I’ve memorized each dip and curve on your face,” I say, holding her gaze. While I regret not being there when my wife died, I don’t regret being an auditor for the mafia. True, I haven’t returned to that life either, but that’s more from guilt than anything else. “It’s what I will turn to if my back is ever against the wall.”

“I understand.” Her gaze lowers to my mouth, awakening something primal. Possessive. Protective.

She had this infectious way about her as if she sees the world through rose colored lenses. Positive, kind, and full of cheer. I won’t be responsible for dimming that light.

“Do you?”

In answer, she stretched onto her toes, pressing her lips against mine. “Despite what that organization represents to the rest of us, they’re the people you trust to have your back.”

Her tongue sweeps into my mouth and I groan from the rightness of her arms circling my neck and the warm tantalizing press of her small frame against my body. The world slows to a crawl. And i become drunk on her sweetness and her gentle exploration of my mouth.

I tremble with need that’s a volcano ready to erupt from the inside. When her hands creep up my nape to get lost in the thick grands of my hair and her manicured nails scratch my scalp, my restraint shatters. That possessive voice at the back of my head roars to life and suddenly Zeva’s in my arms and her legs instinctively wrap around my waist as I brace her back against the wall.

“Zeva…” Her name is honey on my tongue and only drives my desire.

“Aren’t you afraid?” I can’t handle it if she looks at me one day and the softest in her eyes is replaced by fear or worse, regret.

“My only fear is that you’ll stop touching me — “ She nibbles on my earlobe and my breathing labors. “ — and I’ll combust the moment you do.” She leans against the wall to look at me from underneath lowered lashes. Her hips roll just a fraction in an attempt to relieve the ache tormenting both of us. But all it does is ignite mine.

This seductive side of her is hot enough to melt a snowman — not that I plan to tell her that. While her smile pushes my boundaries, when she stares at me with such heat in her eyes, I would drag Santa and all his reindeers from the North Pole to give Zeva Christmas.

Holding her close, I take her up the flight of stairs to my room, setting her on her feet at the foot of the bed. She crosses her arms and lifts the knitted dress and my breath catches in my throat as the soft material crosses her smooth thighs. I envy the damnable fabric and its closeness to perfection. Its proximity to what’s mine. Her red lace panties come into view, cupping the heart-shaped vee at the juncture of her thighs. The dip in her belly button is little more than a dimple, tempting me to run my tongue into its hollow cocoon. A tentative tremor quivers on the gentle curve of her stomach before she tosses the dress onto the floor.

She reaches for her bra, but I stop her. “Let me.”

I avoid her lips because feasting on them again is dangerous. Instead, I kiss her throat, delighted in the gentle arch of her back as she leans into me. Her body silently beckons for more.

My tongue falls under the spell of her skin and the subtle traces of salt as I reach the curve of her full breast still held captive. As I kiss her, moving lower to capture her throbbing nipples between my teeth, lost in the sounds of her husky breaths, I unhook her bra, marveling as her generous breasts fill my hands. I moved lower still and dipped my tongue into her belly button as I shred the last of her clothing, tossing her panties to join the rest of her clothes.

“Your turn,” she says, laying back onto the bed on her elbows, her curly hair falling over her shoulders. “Andreas, are you afraid?”

The question took me by surprise, but I settled on the truth. “Yes.” I guarded my heart for a long time until now.

“Why are you afraid?”

I shrug out of my clothes until I’m naked and vulnerable, my heart a gift to Zeva. “I’m afraid that I might not deserve this second chance at love. Or the way you look at me.” I crawl onto the bed and shudder when she welcomes me between her thighs.

Her legs and arms encircle me, and every fear slips away.

“Do you know what I think?” Her nails caress and gently scrape my back, and I tremble. When she holds me like I’m deserving of something other than these empty walls that surround me, believing in love again is almost easy. “I think my editor sending me to Magnolia is a Christmas miracle. I came to stop you from being a scrooge.”

I chuckle, then suck in a sharp breath when her hands move up my inner things to cup my balls, then to cradle my cock into her warm hand. She strokes me until my breathing becomes as labored as hers and my body as feverish for release. It takes all my restraint not to trust forward when she guides my shaft to her slick entrance.

“I may be your second chance, Andreas. But I knew you were going to be my first love the moment you indulged my tradition, kissing me under the mistletoe.” Her hips tilt in invitations and I bury myself to the hilt.

Zeva gasps and shudders and a storm of desire rips apart the control I tried to keep on my passion. But I should have known that’s impossible when she moans, “Yes.” And cries out my name in a desperate, greedy whisper that makes me weak.

Her hips gyrate. Wild passion unleashes, sizzling the air with our frenzy need for release. My thrusts increase, becoming longer and deep. I’m lost. Pulled into a blinding maelstrom of pleasure. Even as volts of electricity snap along my skin and Zeva’s nails leave half moons on my ass as we are tossed over the cliff of our impending orgasms, I hear her chant my name. I thrust forward and tense, my cum pouring into her quivering channel.