Under The Mistletoe With John Doe

If their kisses were any hint of the magic between them, making love was bound to be off the charts.

Yet it was more than sex. Betsy was the kind of woman that men dreamed about.

Now, as they stood beside her queen-size bed, with its white, goose-down comforter looking almost cloudlike, he kissed her again. Softer, sweeter. Then harder and deeper.

As his hands slid along the curve of her back and down the slope of her hips, a surge of desire shot right through him. He pulled her hips forward, against his erection, letting her know how badly he wanted her.

She whimpered into his mouth, then arched forward, revealing her own need, her own arousal.

Had he ever wanted a woman this badly?

When he thought he was going to die from the strength of his desire, she ended the kiss, then slowly removed her pink sweater and dropped it to the floor.

He watched as she unbuttoned her slacks and slid the zipper down in a slow and deliberate fashion. Her gaze never left his as she slipped the fabric over her hips and peeled them off.

Moments later, she stood before him in a pale blue bra and matching panties. Her body, petite yet lithe, was everything he’d imagined it to be and more.

And tonight, she was his.

Following her lead, he unbuttoned his shirt, pulled his arms out of the sleeves, then let the garment fall to the floor. Next, he unbuckled his belt and undid the metal buttons on his Wranglers.

When he’d removed all but his boxers, he eased toward her.

She skimmed her nails across his chest, sending a shiver through his veins and a rush of heat through his blood. Then she unsnapped her bra and freed her breasts, full and round, the dusky pink tips peaked and begging to be touched.

As he bent and took a nipple in his mouth, she gasped in pleasure. He lavished first one breast, and then the other. Fully aroused, she swayed and had to clutch his shoulder to stay balanced, her nails digging into his back.

Taking mercy on her-and on himself-he lifted her in his arms and placed her on top of the bed. Her hair splayed upon the white pillow, her body upon the comforter.

He wanted nothing more than to slip out of his boxers and feel her skin against his, but he paused for a beat, drinking in the angelic sight. “You’re beautiful, Betsy.”

A slow smile stretched across her lips. “So are you.”

He didn’t know about that, but he was glad that she was pleased with what she saw, at what he did to her.

Determined to make sure that it was better than good for her, that she wouldn’t have any regrets in the morning, he joined her on the bed, where they continued to kiss, to taste, to stroke each other until they were both drowning in need.

“We have all night,” she said, as she pulled free of his embrace. “So we can take things slow and easy later. Right now I need to feel you inside of me.”

He didn’t want to prolong the foreplay any longer, either. And she was right. They had the rest of the night, and he planned to use every minute of it. Then a practical thought crept in. He had no protection with him.

“But I don’t have any-”

“Wait,” she said, rolling to the side of the bed. She reached into the nightstand drawer and pulled out a small, unopened box of condoms.

He wasn’t sure if she kept them handy just in case, or whether she’d planned for this night to happen. Either way, he was glad she’d been prepared.

Taking the packet she offered him, he tore it open and rolled on the condom. Then, as he hovered over her, she reached for his erection and guided him right where she wanted him to be.

He entered her slowly at first, getting the feel of her, the feel of them. And as her body responded to his, she arched up to meet each of his thrusts, the world stood still and nothing mattered but the two of them and what they were doing to and for each other.

As he reached a peak, she cried out, arched her back and let go. Once her climax began, he shuddered, releasing with her in a sexual explosion that had him seeing stars.

No longer separate bodies, they became one, enjoying each ebb and flow until they were physically spent.

John had no idea what the future would bring, but for now, they belonged together-face-to-face, skin to skin…

Heart to heart.

As dawn broke over the valley, sending long slivers of sunlight through the cracks in the shutters, Betsy woke in John’s arms.

She’d hardly slept a wink last night, and she had to go to work today. But that didn’t stop a sated smile from stretching across her face and a flood of warmth from spilling over her heart.

Of course, why wouldn’t she be feeling pleased and content? Sex with John had been amazing-and far better than she’d ever anticipated it to be.

How many times had they made love last night?

Four or five, she supposed. And each joining had been better than the last.

She hadn’t planned on having a lover, hadn’t wanted to take the risk. But the longer she’d known John, the deeper her attraction, the less that seemed to matter anymore.

Last night, she’d lowered her guard. And now she was facing the fact that she’d fallen in love with John, which left her vulnerable to heartbreak and disappointment. But giving him up wasn’t an option any longer.

She glanced at the clock on the bureau, saw that it was nearing six. Nature was calling-and so was the E.R. As much as she’d like to, she couldn’t stay home any longer. She needed to shower, get dressed and head to the hospital.

She also needed to check in on Doc and see how he was doing. She’d left her number as a family contact, though. And because her phone hadn’t rung, she could easily assume that all was well. Still, she wanted to talk to Jim Kelso later this morning, just to be sure there weren’t any unexpected complications.

As she carefully pulled away from John’s embrace, trying not to wake him, he drew her back into his arms and brushed a kiss on her shoulder. His breath was hot, taunting. And she could feel him stirring behind her, his arousal growing.

She suspected that he could easily be encouraged to make love again. And so could she. But while she was tempted to place that call and feign an illness that would require another E.R. doctor to step in for her, she just couldn’t do it. Call her dedicated, responsible or even a control freak, but she couldn’t- wouldn’t-do that to the people who needed her.

“I wish I could stay home,” she said, “but the hospital and the patients are counting on me.”

“I know.” John released his hold, letting her go.

As she slid out of bed, his fingers trailed along her back and down a bare hip, marking her as his. She actually liked the idea of belonging, of being a couple again, especially with him. And again, she felt the invisible bond that drew her to him, a connection that was much stronger after last night.

“I’ll put on a pot of coffee,” he said. “And I’ll fix breakfast while you’re in the shower.”

She stopped in the middle of the room and turned to face him. “You don’t have to do that. I can grab a yogurt and a banana as I go. And there’s always coffee in the break room.”

“That liquid mud?” He chuckled. “I’ve tasted it, remember? Go ahead and get ready for work. I’ll make myself useful.”

Betsy paused long enough to cross her arms and toss a smile his way. “Actually, you made yourself pretty darn useful last night.”

He sat up in bed, the sheet dropping below his waist. A glimmer lit his eyes and he grinned. “It was good, wasn’t it?”

Their gazes locked, which made her pause for just a beat. “It was the best.”

There hadn’t been any reason to keep her opinion to herself. John had figured it out. He’d seen it in her eyes, heard it in her whimpers, felt it in her arms.

As she reached the doorway that led to the hall, a hint of apprehension whispered over her as she thought about what they’d done, about the unspoken commitment they’d made last night.