Mistletoe Over Manhattan

10

She was more than he'd imagined she'd be, sweeter, softer, hotter, a crème brûlée straight from the broiler, all cream and sugary crunch. She protested with a delicious little squeak when he broke off the kiss that was carrying them too far too fast, but when he took the small shell of her ear between his teeth and nibbled at it, he heard her breath quicken.

He wanted to take his time with her. It wouldn't be easy-his mind was telling him slow and careful while his body craved hard and fast. But if he was going to be nothing more to her than a toy, something to relieve the sexual need she was surprising him with, then he was going to be the best sex toy she would ever possess.

And possess him she had. He didn't know when or how. The one thing he did know was that he wanted nothing but her, wanted to touch every part of her. He loved leaning over her like this, pinning down a willing wanton who shivered when his tongue explored the inside of her ear. Then she moaned as he trailed kisses down her cheek, finally burying his face in her neck, nipping and kissing as his hand went of its own accord to one of those mounded breasts he hadn't been able to get off his mind.

She arched against him, burying her face in his shoulder, and the breast filled his hand, so firm, the skin so velvety, the nipple a small, hard knot. A surge of animal desire rocked him, and he pulled himself back. He couldn't imagine she was very experienced in lovemaking, but even if she was, even if there were a secret Mallory he'd never dreamt of, he wanted to give her the most, be the best.

Caressing her breast, he was filled with the need to see the nipple that pressed against his palm, to circle it with his thumb, lick it, fill his mouth with it. His hand went to the shoulder of her robe and tugged it away. His heart leaped when he saw she was helping him, shrugging out of the robe, attempting to slither out of the gown.

"I have an extrication plan." He heard the harshness of desire in his voice, hoped she recognized it for what it was, the voice of a man who was attempting intelligent speech when he was well beyond it. He trailed his fingers down the center front of the gown, found its hem and began to gather it up in his fingertips, sliding his knuckles between her thighs and pausing to nest in the soft, silky mound of hair he encountered next. She moaned, bent her knees, thrust against his hand.

"Mmm," he murmured, "I can't wait until morning."

"Why?" she gasped.

"To see if your hair is the same color all over."

"Want… to make… a bet now?" The words were challenging, but not her voice. Everything else about her felt yielding, meltingly soft.

"Yeah." He pressed a little harder with his knuckles, reveling in the way she wriggled against him. "I'll bet you breakfast in bed that it's not."

"I'll, umm, bet you breakfast in bed it… is-oh, my God, what are you doing, what…"

His knuckles had found their mark, the tiny, secret nub he would seek again and again, with his knuckles, his fingertips, his tongue and his throbbing penis before the night was over. She parted her legs, arching her body as if she were craving his touch. He heard another little cry of protest when he moved on, gathering up the gown, pausing for only a second between her breasts, and that was for his own pleasure, to revisit that valley of firm creaminess.

At last the gown was over her head and tossed into a corner. He gathered that long, slim, silky body into both his arms, stroking down her back to mold her to him, felt her wetness soothing his painful hardness and thought he wouldn't care if he died right now. Nothing could feel better than this, except the sensation of her hands raking his skin from shoulder blades to buttocks, driving him to frenzy and making him fight for control of his male animal body, which wanted only release from the pressure of the tide rising inside him.

He sank his mouth to her breasts to wait out the wave. Her nipples were small and hard. That would be another thing he'd know in the morning, if they were pink as he imagined them to be, the pink of her lips. The only thing he was certain of now was that they were delicious. With her velvet breast cupped in his hand and her nipple in his mouth, he reveled in the heat of her writhing body. He would torture it, torment it, until she begged him to finish what he'd begun.

He'd finish, in time, but there was so much more he wanted to explore, touch, stroke. He moved away from her breasts, scattering kisses down her bare flesh to her navel, to what he now knew would be the same silvery-blond of her hair. He sank his face into it, breathing in her woman's scent, powerful and erotic, before his tongue at last found that tiny hidden nub and laved it, devoured it.

She was liquid beneath his touch, lava that flowed, slow and hot, and that same lava seemed to flow through his own veins. But he could feel the moment when she could think only of her own desire and he eased his fingers inside her where she was wet and slick with desire, massaging the swollen little knot outside with his thumb.

She screamed when she came, explosively, her head flung back, the quintessential woman in the throes of pleasure.

Mallory, screaming. It was a concept he couldn't get his mind around, but it didn't matter, because he'd stopped thinking with his mind a long time ago and the only concept he could handle was getting that hard, throbbing part of him inside her and staying there until he screamed, too.

Just not yet. Hugging her close to him, he groaned.

So this is buss. Collapsed in his arms, still zinging from the spasms that had rocked her minutes before, she wanted to pinch herself to make sure it wasn't just a dream born of her deepest desires. Nothing like this had ever happened to her. A few brief, unsatisfying affairs that ended by mutual agreement and with equal relief, but not a moment of them had felt like this. She'd vowed to feel this with Carter and at last, at long last, it was happening. She must have been holding out for him all these years.

She snuggled a little deeper into his shoulder, touched her mouth to his throat, felt him stir beside her. He'd been nibbling her earlobe, and now his mouth slid to her cheek, strung kisses down to her chin. She tried capturing it on its way, but he had an agenda of his own and she'd just have to wait until he'd kissed her breasts, tickled the nipples with his tongue while the hair on his chest tickled even more sensitive parts of her. She moved against him, surprised to feel the aching heat rise inside her again. There was something else she wanted, something she'd daydreamed about. Surely he wouldn't mind.

Her sweat-slick body slid over his until she was straddling him, until she could feel that delicious hardness pressing into the most sensitive part of her. With a low sound of surprise he adjusted himself beneath her, cupped her buttocks in his hands and raked them gently, dipping lower with each stroke in a way that would surely drive her mad if she didn't move, hard and fast. She began to rock against him, the ache building higher and stronger. He bucked beneath her, matching her rhythm, urging her on, and when the spasms consumed her again she cried out, "Inside me. I want you inside me now," knowing it was the one more thing she had to have to feel complete.

"Shh," he whispered back. "In a minute, in a minute…"

"Oh, oh…" The shudders were traveling through her like earthquake tremors, shattering her with their power. "Now, please, now," she moaned, and somehow he was protected and there where she wanted him to be, above her, taking control, slipping inside her. She gasped at the heat and hardness of him and he took her gently at first. Then overcome by his own need he was driving, thrusting, pounding into her as she arched to meet him, feeling his desperate urgency and begging him to share her pleasure, until at last, with a shout, he drove into her one last time and they collapsed together into the deep, aching quivers of release.

Hot and wet, he clung to her, easing to her side but not letting go, not letting her feel alone, and she lay there in his arms, panting in the cool air of night.

"Are you sorry?" Her voice came in a faint, exhausted whisper.

"No." He took her earlobe in his teeth and nibbled it gently. "Are you?"

"Uh-uh. It was nice."

"Nice. Nice?" She felt his smile against her cheek.

"Extremely nice."

"I'm sure I can do better than that." His hands began a slow, tantalizing exploration of her entire body. The night was only beginning.

If this was all she could have of him, she would still treasure this one night. She'd made it happen, taken it for herself in an act of boldness she hadn't dreamed she was capable of, and she would hold it forever in her heart, even if she couldn't have Carter forever in her arms.

"Wow, we pretty much destroyed everything." Carter sat up in bed and viewed the chaos of her bedroom with apparent satisfaction.

Still half asleep and lying on her stomach, Mallory trailed her hand along the carpeting and came up with several pieces of foil which she tossed carelessly toward the wastepaper basket. Some of them actually landed inside. "I do admire your presence of mind," she said before she yawned, "in remembering the condoms when we decided to change bedrooms."

"You're not the only one who's prepared."

"I'm not giving up the gold medal," Mallory said, "but I will raise your handicap a little." She was still wearing her watch, and she glanced at it, surprised it had survived the night's acrobatics. "Good thing it's Saturday."

"Yep. We'd be in big trouble if it weren't."

She might be in big trouble now. She felt his arms sliding under hers, felt herself being turned over. "Moment of truth," he said, his eyes skimming down her naked body.

For a second she was afraid he was going to say he knew how deliberate her raid on him the night before had been, until she saw where his gaze had settled. "Ha," she said, amazed at how unself-conscious she felt, "you lose."

He ran his fingers through her pubic hair, which was, in fact, pale blond, making her shift restlessly against the sheets. "I wouldn't call it losing," he said, then sighed regretfully. "I'm not sure I can go on until I've had coffee and a shower."

"That's okay," Mallory said, "though it wasn't what I'd hoped for from you, but I… Carter, don't you dare. Stop it right now. I was only kidding. We need coffee. Showers. Breakfast. I want to brush my teeth… Carter…"

"Breakfast in bed is definitely called for," Carter announced quite a while later.

"It's the only way we're going to get any," Mallory agreed.

"I'll call room service. You think of something we can do while we wait." He waggled his eyebrows at her.

"Make the call. I'll come up with a plan."

He couldn't wait to see what the plan was. Five minutes later, after he'd ordered a breakfast appropriate for farmworkers during haying season, he shouted her name.

"In here," she called back.

"In where?" But he knew where. Her bathroom door was open, and no one could miss the cloud of steam rising above the shower. His groin tightened as he played her hide-and-seek game, and when he drew close to the shower door, it opened swiftly and she reached out and grabbed him, tugging him inside with her.

"Just think of the water we're saving," he murmured, tantalizing himself by holding her away from him for a moment. She was exquisite naked, with her hair slicked down and her eyelashes sparkling with water droplets. Her pale skin was pink from the heat and irresistible to the touch, and her nipples, softer now from the warmth, were also pink, just as he'd imagined. They needed touching, it was obvious.

He reached out for the soap, massaged it between his hands into a thick lather and covered her breasts with it. She shivered and closed her eyes. "That's right. Let me make you clean all over." The only thing between his palms and her skin were the slick bubbles, and under his caress he felt those beautiful, small pink nipples harden in spite of the heat.

His arousal increased as he slid the lather over her stomach, her back, her arms, her legs, her buttocks. She slipped and slid against him, moving against his skin in the most maddening, provocative way. He began to slide down, down, until he'd reached the wettest golden hair and put his mouth against the warm crevice in which he'd taken such pleasure in the night.

She moaned, tangling her fingers in his hair, leaning on him for support and pressing him tighter into that crevice all at the same time. He was in heaven, not even minding the increasing urgency in his own body, and was distraught to feel her suddenly grow still.

"What?" His voice was hoarse.

"It's the doorbell."

"Ignore it." He resumed his exploration with his tongue.

"It's the waiter. We have to-"

"Don't have to do anything." He was undistractable. "He'll let himself in, leave breakfast-"

She was pushing him away, but she was laughing, a delicious, throaty laugh. "I'm not that sophisticated. Let him in and keep him out of here."

With great reluctance he got up off his knees, then almost returned there at the sight of her heavy-lidded eyes, the pout of her desire-swollen mouth. "Go," she whispered.

He put on the hotel robe without drying himself off and pulled her tight against him. "So much I didn't know about you," he murmured.

"Like what?"

"Didn't know you ever kidded anybody, for one thing. Didn't know you could make love and laugh at the same time. Didn't know…"

Didn't know you could want me so much, or make me feel this way.

The depth of the emotion he felt scared him. "Didn't know you could wait this long for your morning coffee," he said, gave her bottom a little spank, and went to receive breakfast.

In a very short time they were propped up in bed devouring eggs and bacon, English muffins and sweet rolls, juice and coffee. "Um-yum," Mallory said, slathering ginger marmalade on a piece of muffin.

When he figured she'd had enough food to subsist on for a while, he let his arm drop casually around her shoulders, then tightened it and pressed her against his stubborn erection.

"You can't possibly want more," she moaned.

"Why stop now?" he said reasonably, because he did want more, as soon as possible, "The damage is done. We came to New York to work together and found out it was fun to play together, too."

"I guess you could look at it that way." She moved a little closer to him, but he sensed something different in her and wondered if he'd said the wrong thing.

Not knowing what he might have said wrong, he went on in the same cheerful vein. "That's the fine line between a solicitor, which you are, and a barrister, which I am, if I may use the English system as an example," he lectured. "We barristers can rationalize anything."

"Do we have to rationalize this?" True, her face was buried in his shoulder, but her voice sounded so faint that he was increasingly sure he'd hurt her in some way. Not knowing what to do about it, he tried tenderness.

"Again, that's what makes a solicitor," he said, dropping little kisses on the parts of her he could reach. "Always with the questions, always after the facts."

Yes, he did need to rationalize this, but he didn't want to explain that he was too awed by her organized, retentive mind to feel worthy of her. So what? It was fun just being her boy toy. He kissed her a little more purposefully, feeling her respond, wondering if sex was the only way he could reach her.

"Don't tip over the tray," she said, already sounding breathless. "We'll get butter and crumbs all over us."

"Breaded for frying," he agreed, ignoring the precarious tray and blowing the words onto her neck, that spot just below her ear that seemed to turn her on.

She shivered. "Buttered for eating," she said, and then, "Forget I said that."

"I can't," he said regretfully. "It's given me ideas. Not butter exactly, but… how about marmalade?" He grabbed the spoon, dunked it in the marmalade dish and plopped the spoonful directly onto that enchanting puff of golden hair.

"Carter! I just showered! Now look at me! I'm all sticky!"

"Yum," Carter growled, embarking on the delightful task of licking her clean.

He'd apparently restored her good mood. He had just one more problem to deal with. He had no desire to do anything today but stay in bed with Mallory, but he had to sneak away somehow for his third appointment with Maybelle Ewing. The woman was crazy, definitely. Anybody with seventeen diplomas on the wall had to be crazy, but what she'd been saying to him made sense.

He wasn't a bad kid anymore, hadn't been for years, and it was possible nobody thought of him that way except himself. It wasn't his image he needed to change,Maybelle had declared after talking to him about three minutes yesterday, it was his attitude.

She'd also told him that what he had to deal with was easy compared with the changes another client of hers was having to make. "That girl," Maybelle said, "don't know she's a doll, don't know she's sexy as all get-out, don't unnerstand that anybody in the world'd give his right… arm to have her. You think you aren't smart. She thinks smart's all she is. Like I said, you've got it easy."

He was sure he could think up an excuse to get away for that three o'clock appointment. After a little more caffeine and a little more love-in-the-morning.

Her appointment with Maybelle was at four that afternoon, and Maybelle had announced they'd be having tea at Lady Mendl's Tea Salon in New York's GramercyPark. Mallory had thought several times of telling Maybelle that she wasn't that put off by the horned desk, and now that they'd outfitted her they could resume the meetings in Maybelle's office, but Maybelle hadn't given her a chance. Tea on a wintry afternoon sounded wonderful, anyway. She hoped Lady Mendl's offered an extensive tea with scones and sandwiches, éclairs and butter cookies. She had to come up with a plausible reason to separate her body from Carter's, and she'd finally hit upon one.

"I have an appointment to have my hair trimmed this afternoon," she told him over the clam chowder and crabcakes they had for lunch at the little round table in the sitting room. "I may be gone a couple of hours. I need a few things, panty hose…" She trailed off. Was it her imagination, or had a look of relief crossed Carter's face? She could hardly blame him. She was exhausted. And ravenous. She rarely ate more than a salad for lunch, and she was attacking these crabcakes as if she hadn't eaten in days.

Carter had asked for two orders for himself and had offered her the same option. "They're small," he'd explained. "That would be a good idea for me, too," he said. "I could use a haircut, and I'm out of shaving cream."

"I couldn't tell." She sent him a secret smile.

"You'd be able to by tomorrow."

So he wasn't bored yet. That was good news. "Okay, then, we can take off at-"

"I'd like to leave at about two-thirty," he interrupted her. "I might catch the end of the football game if I get an early start."

"I'll hang around a little while longer and get my clothes in order for next week. I should be home by five-thirty."

She eyed him, noticing that he seemed to be eyeing her in the same way, the way people look at each other when they haven't told the whole truth.

Her lie, of course, was perfectly innocent. She'd pick up some panty hose at Saks and dart into one of those no-appointment places that were all over New York for a trim, all before tea. She just wasn't mentioning her appointment with Maybelle, that was all. Carter's plan, she had a feeling, wasn't quite so innocent.

Maybe he had to tell somebody goodbye. Forever.

Maybe he had to keep somebody on the string until he got bored with Mallory.

Maybe he needed a haircut and shaving cream, but his hair looked fine to her. And everywhere his face had touched her, it had felt wonderfully smooth. She shivered.

"What I think, Jack," Maybelle said to Carter, "is that you've fallen for somebody and you're afraid you're not good enough for her."

"I don't know-fallen might be going too far. Or maybe not. I sure have been obsessing about her. As for good enough, well, maybe I'm good enough, just not smart enough. Or maybe I'm even smart enough. I just can't get anybody to see me that way." He felt dazed from too much breakfast, too much lunch, too much arousal, not enough sleep and not enough information about where the hell Mallory had to go this afternoon. There'd been something evasive in the way she'd mentioned her haircut. He knew enough about women to know haircuts didn't take two hours.

Of course, he hadn't been telling the truth, either, but he knew what he was lying about and it was perfectly innocent.

"Way-ell, tell me about your girl," Maybelle said. "How y'all met. Mebbesomethin'll click in my mind."

"I've known her a long time. We were in law school together."

"Y'all are both lawyers?"

"Yeah."

"That's a coincidence," Maybelle said, more to herself than to him.

"Not really," Carter said. "People do meet in law school. We did. We studied together."

"Studied together? Nuthin' else?"

"Nope."

"You didn't think she was pretty?

"Yes, I thought she was pretty."

"Just not sexy."

"She didn't act very, um, accessible," Carter admitted.

"Okay, so y'all have known each other awhile without doin' nuthin' about it and suddenly you want to do something about it. What changed?"

"She did," Carter blurted out. "I mean, she didn't really. Just sort of."

"What'd she change? Her hair? Her clothes?"

"Not her hair," he said very fast. "She'd better not ever change her hair. Her hair…" He was getting aroused thinking about her damned hair. "It's like corn silk, but even lighter colored than corn silk… and not as slimy," he finished up.

Maybelle's expression changed. It was an infinitesimal change, but Carter had spent too much time in the courtroom not to notice the nuances in people's faces. He gazed at her closely.

"Anybody ever tell y'all you had the soul of a poet?" was what she said.

"No."

"They was right not to. So she didn't change her hair. What about her clothes?"

"She always looked nice," Carter said, turning his pen between his fingers. "It was just that her clothes didn't make you think there was a body under them."

"And they do now?"

Carter frowned. "Well, after I ruined her black suit…"

Maybelle jolted visibly in her chair. "You okay?" he said.

"Jes' a twinge of arthuritis, hon. Go on. How'd y'all ruin the suit?"

"I sprayed mustard on it. Then she showed up in this red jacket…" He paused because Maybelle had flipped her ubiquitous coffee cup straight up in the air.

"Oh, shoot," she said, but she sounded really nervous. "Dickie!" she shrieked. "Come here and bring me some a them paper towels."

Yep, she was crazy. Here he was, facing the most important passage of his life, and he'd put himself in the hands of a certified nutcase.

That's how smart he was. Pick up a card in a hotel hallway and sure! Dial the number! If Mallory knew, he could kiss goodbye to any notion of gaining her respect.