Chapter 6

Meg

I thoughtthe cinnamon rolls would be the best part of my day.

But they are not.

Not even close.

Trevor kissing me?

Thisis the best part of my day.

I don't know why his arms are wrapped around me and his warm, delicious lips are devouring me, and I don't care.

I just know it's everything I've wanted for days. Weeks. Years.

And I'll probably regret it in another thirty seconds, but for right now, I'm hanging on with everything I have, wrapping my own arms around his neck, testing the feel of his damp, thick hair, breathing in the scent of his aftershave and tasting mint on his tongue.

He breaks the kiss with a curse. "Jude is gonna kill me."

"Shut up. I'm a grown woman. Kiss me again."

"This mouth," he growls.

My clit tingles, and my nipples harden as the deep rumble of his words reverberates against my chest. "Please kiss me again," I whisper.

"Meg—"

I cut him off by going onto my toes and nipping at his lower lip.

He groans, and then he's gripping my hair, pulling my head back and sliding his tongue into my mouth as if he's been resisting this just as much as I have.

I squirm, trying to get closer, and the hard ridge of his erection presses into my belly. I want his shirt off. I want my shirt off. I want to feel his hands on my bare skin and lose myself in exploring his body.

Forget the cinnamon rolls.

Forget Christmas.

Just give me Trevor Stafford.

He pulls out of the kiss and shifts to pressing his lips along my jawline while I try to wrap my legs around his hips and totally fail.

"Oh my god, I want you," I gasp as he nibbles at my earlobe, finally saying out loud the words I've denied for so many years.

"Do you have any idea how much resisting you has driven me crazy the past few weeks?" he murmurs in my ear.

"N-no."

"You're sunshine." He licks that sensitive spot right between my ear as the music shifts to "Oh Holy Penis."

Yes.

Yes, please, I want his holy penis.

Inside me.

Right now.

I slide my hands under his shirt.

He groans again, arching into my touch, and nips at my collar bones. "You're infectious laughter."

I press kisses to the rough skin on his jaw. "I'm ridiculous."

He presses his hard-on into my belly and licks the hollow at the base of my neck. "You're hope and light and courage and you are completely and totally irresistible."

"Trevor."

"I can't resist you anymore, Meg. I've tried. I've lied to myself for weeks—years—but I can't do it anymore. Jude's gonna kill me, and I don't care."

I grab his cheeks. "This isn't about my brother."

Gah, those beautiful eyes.

Those heavy-lidded, smoky hazel eyes.

"I know," he whispers.

"I want you to kiss me."

"I want to kiss you and strip you naked and spend the entire holiday season with you in my bed."

My vagina is throbbing, my skin is on fire and if he so much as caresses one of my breasts, I'm pretty sure I could come on the spot. "You want me."

"I wanted to kiss you so badly last night, I could barely think straight."

His hands roam my body, testing and squeezing and driving me crazy while I do the same to him. "So kiss me now."

He does.

Oh, god, he does.

He kisses me slow and deep and thorough while he walks me backward into the living room, squeezing my ass, untying my apron and tossing it aside.

My shirt goes with my apron.

His shirt too.

I suck in a breath at the sight of the angry red scar on his shoulder, and he freezes.

"I'll put my shirt back on," he says.

"No." I gingerly touch the raised skin. "Does it hurt?"

"Not there."

I kiss it softly, my other arm wrapped around his waist. "You give your all. Every time. No matter the cost."

"Meg—"

"That is so sexy."

He drops his nose into my hair. "It's?—"

"Your story," I finish before he can say something awful about his scar. "It's your story. It's your life. And it's beautiful. And so are you."

"Do you have any idea how hard it's always been to resist you when you always see the best in everyone?" He keeps nudging me back until my calves hit the sofa.

"I've seen you at your best."

"And my worst."

"But I know what your best can be."

"Oh, no. I don't think you do. Not yet." His beautiful eyes sparkle with amusement as he pulls away and looks down at me. Amusement, and heat, and desire.

My belly drops, putting a delicious pressure on my vagina.

He wants me.

He could hit any bar in the city with his World Series ring and pick up any woman he wanted.

But he's here, and he wants me.

And I know how much he values my brother's friendship.

He's not acting on this because I'm easy. He's acting on this because he wants me.

I'm not sure anything in my life has ever aroused me more.

"Why aren't we in your bedroom?" I whisper as I brush a kiss to his jaw.

"Because I want to make love to you under an ugly Christmas tree decorated with pasta and Halloween lights."

Oh my god.

He wants me, and he gets me, and nothing else matters.

I lunge for the button on his jeans, kissing him like he's my lifeline. He slides his hands beneath my waistband and cradles my ass, kneading my cheeks while he presses his erection harder into my belly.

And after jerky motions to rip off the rest of our clothes, both of us laughing and panting and unable to keep our hands and our kisses to ourselves, we're finally tumbling naked onto the floor beside our rescue tree, his mouth on all of me, my hands roaming his hot, bare skin.

"You feel even better than I imagined."

"You imagined me?" I whisper.

"I tried so hard not to. So hard. For years. But I can't resist you anymore."

This is the best Christmas present ever.

Kissing Trevor. Licking his skin. Exploring his body. Giving in to the urge to let him have all of me, and to take everything that I want.

Have I had a crush on this man forever?

Yes.

But did I ever think he would not only notice me, but find me attractive enough to want to do what he's doing to my breasts right now?

Never.

Never in a million years could I have dreamed that Trevor Stafford would be sucking on my nipples under a Christmas tree while his long, capable fingers tease my clit and my vagina, making me pant and want and writhe and twist and completely lose myself in the feel of him coaxing an orgasm out of me.

"Trevor," I gasp.

"Jesus, you're fucking amazing. So hot. So wet. Meg, you feel so good."

I'm still coming, my vagina clenching around his fingers while he presses his thumb to my clit, my hips arching into his hand as sweet wave after sweet wave flows through my body until my shoulders collapse back onto the floor.

"Oh my god," I whisper.

He kisses the hollow between my breasts. "Best workout I've had all week."

"Poor baby, working so hard. You should lie back and let me take care of you now."

"Meg… Jesus." His cock twitches against my leg, and it takes effort, but I force him onto his back.

I'm not risking that shoulder of his.

And I'm not letting this man go without an orgasm of his own.

"Meg—" he starts when I straddle him.

I arch a brow and wait while he squeezes his eyes shut and takes three labored breaths.

Oh, wow.

Is he that close to coming?

I wiggle my hips against his erection.

He hisses out a short breath, grabs my hips, and holds me still.

"Am I driving you wild?" I whisper.

"So fucking much. And I just jerked off in the shower while fantasizing about you."

Oh my holy gingerbread, that's hot. "Maybe I should get some ice to cool you down."

His eyes flare wide and connect with mine. "Fuck me, you're a dirty, dirty girl, aren't you?"

I scoot down his body, letting my stomach and my breasts brush his penis, loving the way his breathing goes even more ragged. When I lick him from root to tip, then suck his erection into my mouth, the heady goddamn, Meg that echoes through the room sets my satisfied vagina back to I need this man deep inside me mode.

But first, I suck him deeper, rubbing the underside of his cock with my tongue while he fists my hair and his hips buck beneath me.

Not hard—I can tell he's holding back—but enough to know that I'm driving him wild.

I love driving him wild.

I love that he wants me.

I cannot believe we're here, together, naked, exploring each other's bodies and indulging in ultimate pleasure, and yet nothing has ever felt so right.

And I love that he's suddenly wrenching me off of him, flipping me onto my back, and staring with very dark, very serious eyes straight into my soul.

"I'm going to fuck you now," he says, "and I'm going to fuck you hard and deep for as long as I can, and then I'm going to carry you to bed, sleep for twenty minutes, because I'm an old bastard, and then I'm going to eat your pussy, and then I'm going to make love to you long and slow, and that's everything I want to do for the rest of my life."

Was I satiated a minute ago?

Because at the moment, my clit is throbbing again and I very much need this man inside me now.

"You are so hot when you talk about being old," I gasp.

He laughs at that, ducking his face into my shoulder, and as I realize he's supporting himself on both of his shoulders and very much shouldn't be, he pushes the tip of his erection inside me.

"Oh god," I gasp, shamelessly arching into him to take more.

He freezes. "Condom."

"I'm on birth control, and it's been a year."

"Fuck, Meg."

"You?" I whisper.

"Clear bill of health right before surgery, and I haven't—just fuck, Meg."

I wrap my legs tight around his hips and pull him deeper inside me.

We both groan as he fills and stretches me.

"Your shoulder?—"

He silences me with a kiss as he pulls almost all the way out, then does a slow thrust back inside me, twisting his hips to hit my clit just right too, and oh, sweet snowmen.

Yes.

Yes, this is everything I want and more than I ever thought it would be.

Trevor, naked, making love to me under the glow of Halloween lights on a rescue tree, the air scented with cinnamon rolls, inappropriate Christmas music the background to our gasps and moans—how long have I wanted this?

And how much better is it than I ever dreamed?

"You shouldn't be so fucking perfect." His voice is strained as he hits that sensitive spot inside me with his erection.

"I am not?—"

I cut myself off with a squeak as he dips his head and lightly bites my nipple, causing a roar of lust from my chest to my pussy like someone ignited gasoline inside me. "Margaret O'Connell, you are fucking perfect."

He slams into me with each word, and before he's finished perfect, I can't hold back the spiral of utter need inside me anymore. My body explodes in a mass of holiday sprinkles and I feel like I'm floating on a cloud of whipped cream over a pumpkin pie.

"Jesus, Meg," he gasps, and then he's groaning as he comes inside me, holding his body over mine with his head flung back, the tendons in his neck straining, his eyes hooded and unfocused.

And the feel of his cock pulsing against my sensitive walls only makes my own orgasm deeper and better.

I did this.

I drove him wild.

I drove Trevor Stafford wild.

He wants me.

Tears prickle my eyes as the last spasms of my orgasm roll through me.

I can't remember the last time I felt this wanted. The last time someone was willing to put anything on the line for me.

My family does.

But a man?

Someone who owes me nothing and has so much to lose if—when—his best friend finds out?

I don't think Jude will be a dick.

And I hope this isn't a one-time thing.

Trevor collapses on top of me, and the grunt he makes isn't normal.

"Oh my god, your shoulder," I gasp.

"Shh." He presses a kiss to my neck, then freezes. "Meg? Are you—are you crying?"

"No."

He shifts so he's putting his weight on his good arm and peers down at me. "Meg?—"

"You like me," I whisper.

His gaze is utter seriousness as he studies me. "I do."

"Not very many people like me enough to risk—well?—"

I don't finish.

I can't.

Because he's pressing soft kisses to my lips and swiping away my tears with his thumb. "You've been hanging out with the wrong people."

He's not wrong.

My last jobs were terrible fits.

I've been happier here working for the Bergers, even with the awkward tension between Trevor and me until this morning, than I ever was in preschool settings.

I can breathe here.

And more—I feel loved here.

Soloved.

And it's not just my job.

It's Trevor giving me a place to live so I could start right away. It's him being honest with me about how much he hates the holidays, and why, and yet still going along with celebrating them anyway.

It's him being willing to risk a solid friendship with my brother to tell me how much he likes me, and to hold me and kiss me and love me.

I'm not ready for those words.

I don't think he is either.

But I wouldn't be lying here with him still buried deep inside me while he kisses my tears and my fears away if I didn't think that's where this is going.

I tilt my head to his and run my fingers through his hair. "I haven't showered yet this morning, and I think we might both have holiday glitter all over," I whisper.

He studies me for a long moment again before a soft smile makes his eyes crinkle in the corners. "Pretty sure I can help you with that."

"Before or after cinnamon rolls?"

"Both."