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“Nice,” said Kristy. “Times Square has nothing on you guys.”
“It’s most definitely a competition,” said Jack. “As far back as I can remember, the Smythes tried to outdo the Comptons who tried to outdo the Baileys and so on.”
“Has your family always spent Christmas here?” Kristy asked everyone in general, hoping to keep talk away from anything wedding-related.
“Since we were kids,” answered Elaine.
“Hunter’s family, too,” Jack said.
The horses made their way past discrete pot lights lining the pathway, moving toward the faint glow of the next property.
“How does your family celebrate, Kristy?” asked Liza.
“Our Christmases were nothing like this,” Kristy answered. “We had a house in Brooklyn. Nice neighborhood, plenty of decorations, even carolers—”
Jack took her hand in his beneath the blanket. His gaze caught hers, his eyes darker than usual, the muffled sound of the horses’ hooves and the muted snatches of voices from the other sleigh filled the sharp, sweet air.
A rich, steady burn started in the center of her body. It radiated out, fingers of heat licking at her skin.
She wanted to tell him she was in. She wanted to tell him so, for now and for later, for as many days as they had left. They could laugh, kiss, make love and sleep in each others’ arms.
Another resplendent estate came into view.
Liza and Elaine craned their necks.
Unable to wait any longer, Kristy stretched up to whisper in Jack’s ear. “Yes.”
He jerked back, staring down at her with wide eyes.
She gave him a nod and a secretive smile.
He squeezed her hand. Then he pulled her close, the warmth of his body seeping deeply into hers.
Ten
Kristy barely remembered the rest of the sleigh ride, and dinner had taken forever. Their gazes had practically melted each other over crème brûlée and cognac. But if anybody noticed, they were too polite to say.
They were also too polite to make a comment when Jack declared bedtime at nine-twenty-seven.
Kristy forced herself to say a measured good-night, happy that Liza seemed to be starting to like her, and that she’d agreed to postpone talk of a wedding party until after the New Year. Elaine’s eyes twinkled when they met Kristy’s, but Kristy couldn’t bring herself to care. She was too busy struggling to keep from sprinting up the stairs.
The second the bedroom door was shut behind them, Jack pulled her into his arms. His openmouthed kiss was instantaneous. She answered in kind as his fingers fumbled with the buttons of her blouse.
She pushed his suit jacket off his shoulders, frantically working on his shirt as they gasped and kissed then kissed again. She yanked her arms out of the blouse, letting it drop to the floor. He snapped off her bra, then cradled her face with his palms, kissing her over and over and over.
When he finally drew back, it was to rip off his shirt. Then he shucked his pants and fisted his hands in the fabric of her skirt, pulling it higher and higher, revealing her white silk panties, then slipping his thumbs beneath the delicate elastic.
She spread her palms across his broad chest, reveling in the texture of his muscles, stroking up to his shoulders, then down again, further and further, until he gasped and his hands gripped her buttocks.
“Don’t,” he pleaded.
“Why not?” She wanted him, wanted him right here, right now, right this instant.
In answer, he scooped her into his arms and deposited her on the bed. Then he pushed her skirt up to her waist and stripped off her panties in one swift motion.
“Too fast for you?” he rasped.
“Not fast enough.” While he watched, gaze burning hot, she let her thighs drift apart, her feet dangle off the edge of the high mattress. She slowly, sensually raked spread fingers through her hair, loosening the ponytail, then dropped her hands to rest beside her head.
Jack squeezed his eyes shut and groaned.
He joined her on the bed, his palm covering her mound, his fingers sliding slickly and surely inside.
She arched her hips. “Yes.”
He kissed her shoulder, her neck, her breast, increasing his rhythm as he drew a beaded nipple into his mouth.
“Now,” she begged. “Please, now.”
“Not yet,” he rumbled, slowing down, feathering more kisses along her sensitive skin, whispering erotic promises in her ear.
She writhed against him, her hands grasping sections of the downy quilt.
His mouth moved to hers. He shifted across her, one thigh replacing the hand that was driving her insane.
She welcomed his weight, wrapped her arm around him, stroked her palms down his back, lower to his buttocks, pulling him to her, urging him inside.
