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Back What Happens At Christmas
Chapters (32)
  1. Also by
  2. Title Page
  3. One
  4. December 21st
  5. Two
  6. Three
  7. Four
  8. Five
  9. Six
  10. Seven
  11. Eight
  12. Nine
  13. Ten
  14. December 22nd
  15. Eleven
  16. Twelve
  17. Thirteen
  18. Fourteen
  19. Fifteen
  20. Sixteen
  21. Seventeen
  22. December 23rd
  23. Eighteen
  24. Nineteen
  25. Twenty
  26. Twenty-one
  27. December 24th
  28. Twenty-two
  29. Twenty-three
  30. December 25th
  31. Twenty-four
  32. Copyright Page

Gray had his clothes off before she reached the bed. He caught her in his arms and they tumbled onto the bed in a tangle of naked limbs and heated desire.

He had dreamed of this, of her. She was all he had known she would be, and he worshiped her with his mouth and hands, with touch and taste. He ran his hands down the length of her, along her sides, over the curve of her hip and along the long length of her leg. Her skin was warm silk beneath his hand.

Her hands explored him as eagerly as his explored her. Her fingers skimmed over his chest and drifted lower over his stomach. His muscles tensed beneath her touch and her hand moved lower, until her fingers wrapped around his cock, and she squeezed. He sucked in a sharp breath and moaned with the sheer pleasure of her touch. She stroked him, and he thought he would surely die with the joy of the feel of her hand. He buried his face in her neck and pushed her hand away. He would never last at this rate. And he wanted to take her to the edge of sanity. He wanted her moaning his name and writhing beneath him.

He grabbed her hands and pinned them over her head; then rained kisses on her neck and trailed his lips lower, between her breasts and over the flat plane of her stomach and lower still. He released her hands and she clutched at the bedclothes. He slipped his hand between her legs and caressed her. She moaned and arched upward, pressing against his hand. She was slick and hot and quivered against his touch. He stroked her again and again; she thrashed on the bed and gripped his shoulders and dug her fingers into him.

“Grayson.” The word was breathless with passion and need. She pushed his hand away, then hooked her leg over his and pulled him onto her. “Grayson . . .”

Slowly he pushed into her. She was tight around him and he pushed deeper. She moaned, angled her hips toward him and wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him in. She surrounded him, engulfed him, welcomed him. For a moment, he could do nothing more than savor the feeling of being inside her, one with her. She throbbed around him, and it was more than his wildest dreams.