Abby's Christmas Spirit (8 page)

She did wonder why he wasn’t staying at one of the newer chain hotels out by the highway and the plastics factory, but she didn’t think it was important enough to question. Maybe he just liked holding on to his money instead of tossing it around.

“Sorry, this isn’t exactly the Ritz. But for a few days and a skeletal crew, I was trying to cut costs.”

“No problem.” Abby waited until Darius stepped down out of his truck before she followed suit. He held the motel room door open for her and she wandered in.

It smelled musty, but it looked clean and tidy. He had one bag sitting on the floor and some toiletries by the sink. That was it.

He tossed a box of condoms on the nightstand and stripped off his coat. So he had prepared for this. Abby unraveled her scarf, waiting to feel nervous. She had never had a hook-up before. But that wasn’t really what this was and she didn’t feel remotely nervous or uncertain. She draped her scarf over a chair by the desk.

Then closed her eyes when Darius came over and lifted her hair, kissing the back of her neck.

“You’re so beautiful,” he told her. “Exotic.”

“Exotic? That’s a stretch.” But she was pleased. She couldn’t help it. Any woman would be pleased to have a man like Darius complimenting them.

Turning towards him, she kissed him, loving the feel of his mouth on hers. They molded together, head to toe, their bodies already starting a sinuous dance with each other. His hips pressed against hers in a steady rhythm and his tongue teased across her bottom lip, forcing her mouth open to accept him.

When he plunged inside her, the shift was immediate. A slow, sensuous kiss became demanding, their destination obvious. This wasn’t going to be a lengthy seduction. He wanted her now. And she wanted to be taken. Hard.

He pulled back just far enough to tear her sweater up and over her head. It landed on the desk in a heap. She expected him to suck her nipple, kiss her more. But he didn’t. He stripped her bra off then went straight to her jeans, his desperation obvious and exciting. Abby responded by popping the snap on his own jeans. They clawed at each other, until they were both naked from the waist up.

Darius picked Abby up and carried her to the bed, already breathing hard, already hard enough to cut glass. He couldn’t believe what she did to him. It was those eyes. They were huge, luminous, and she looked at him like she saw everything there was to see. There was something bewitching about her. He hated to use that word, but there wasn’t another. It was true. She owned him when she stared at him, her rosy lips slightly parted, and he needed to taste her, touch her, all of her.

With frantic jerks, he took her jeans down. She lifted her hips to help, hands brushing against her dusky nipples in a way that had him throbbing with want. When she was laid out before him, beautifully naked, it was all he could to restrain himself.

“Darius,” she said, her voice honeyed, coaxing. “Please.”

It was all he needed to hear. He had his pants off and a condom on in thirty seconds, his mouth hot with desire. Bending over her, he gave her a searing kiss. Her fingers gripped his cock and she brought him to her, right to her moist, hot core.

With a thrust, he entered her and paused, absorbing the sound of her moan, the sensation of her tight body wrapped around him, pulsating.

“Holy shit, you are so tight,” he told her. For a heartbeat, he wondered in panic if she were a virgin, but he tossed that idea aside when she squeezed her inner muscles around him.

“It’s just been awhile,” she told him.

For which he was infinitely grateful. “You just feel so fucking good.” He started moving, intending to take it slow, to stroke them both to a slow release.

But she moved her hips in rhythm with his, grinding up into him, her nails digging into his back, the sounds she was making like a whip, urging him on. He pumped harder, earning her approval. Sweat beaded on his forehead and he watched her, reveling in the pink sheen that had bloomed above her breasts, goose bumps marching across her flesh. Her eyes had impossibly darkened, shiny with ecstasy, her lips parted as she cried out for him.

When she came, he felt it, and he’d never known a greater sense of pride as she arched her back, her moans gone silent as she held her breath, eyes wide with surprise.

He wasn’t able to resist letting his orgasm meet hers, and he gave a groan through gritted teeth, eyes narrowed as he emptied all his desire into her, her tightness milking his balls and most likely ruining him for any other women. Collapsing on top of her, he kissed her shoulder, her chin, her mouth.

The condom was barely off before he found himself drifting off to sleep, spent and more satisfied then he’d ever been.

DARIUS
wasn’t surprised when he saw Abby enter the room in his dream. He was in his house, the former Murphy house, only it had furniture like it did in all his sleep musings. The bedroom was cozy and intimate, with a big four-poster bed and a cashmere blanket on it. The colors weren’t Victorian at all. It was soft, muted colors like camel and sandstone, with crisp white accents. They belonged here in this room in his dreams, but now that he knew Abby in reality, something felt different. Truth was mixing with fantasy and he felt confused. Unsure of what to do.

Abby didn’t look confused. She looked cocky almost, an arrogant smile on her lips.

“Where have you been?” she asked. “Out shopping for my wedding ring?”

Wedding ring? He was supposed to buy her a ring? They’d just met. Darius felt panic crawl up his throat like a sand crab, tickling and irritating.

Kissing his cheek, she laughed. “Kidding. It’s a little soon for that.”

Agreed. He totally agreed.

“But soon.”

Really? He was confused as to who they were to each other in this new reality that wasn’t reality but was a dream. “Do I live here?” he asked.

“Yes, of course you do. You go to Chicago twice a month but most of your time is here. With me. I live here with you because you love me.”

Darius hadn’t thought of it in those terms—those words—before. Did he love Abby? He honestly wasn’t sure. He thought he wanted to love her more than he actually loved her. But he very well might at some point. It seemed highly likely. There was something there between them, a very solid connection, and a passion that was beyond anything he’d ever experienced.

She looked around the bedroom in satisfaction then suddenly they were standing the parlor, which also had furniture. “We did a good job with this place. Past and present, formal and informal, it all blends.”

Since he didn’t remember picking out any of it, he wasn’t sure what to say. “Abby, I think I need to wake up.”

Her hand slid across the front of his jeans.

DARIUS
woke up with a start, his penis aching from the feathery touch she’d bestowed upon him in his dream. That wasn’t the way his dreams usually went. He didn’t use her name. They didn’t discuss who they were to each other. It was normally just a highly charged erotic encounter where they stripped each other and he fucked her senseless.

He liked those dreams better. This one had felt… contrived.

Abby’s fingers splayed across his bare chest. “You okay?” she asked.

Maybe it was just the result of dozing off after sex. He was discombobulated. Or something. “Yeah. Fine.”

“You’ve never woken up in a dream before when I’ve touched your penis.”

Darius stiffened. And not in his cock. Shoulders tensed, he glanced at her. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you usually like me to touch you when I enter one of your dreams.”

Somehow he had managed to forget about the fact that she thought she was the one willfully prancing into his dreams. Not that it was a total coincidence. “You can’t really believe you’re entering my dreams.” He knew it seemed astonishing that she knew what happened, but there had to be another explanation. One that made sense.

“You can’t really be this patronizing.” Abby sat up, her hair falling over her bare chest. “How do you explain that I know
everything
you dream about unless I’m actually there?”

Hell if he knew but her explanation was completely impossible. “Coincidence.”

She snorted. “Wake up. Pun intended. It’s not a coincidence. We were talking about living together. I was wearing a black sweater. The bedroom is painted beige.”

He couldn’t accept it, he just couldn’t. It didn’t make sense to his logical brain. “It’s just a dream.”

“A dream you dream alone is only a dream. A dream you dream together is reality.”

The panic was increasing. He couldn’t do this, this alternate reality shit. “Who said that? A Wiccan priestess?”

With a sound of outrage, she threw back the blanket. “It was actually John Lennon, asshole.”

Abby bent over to retrieve her clothes from the hotel room floor. It suddenly felt cheap to be here with him. He was exactly what she had thought he was—a businessman with no soul. He wasn’t her destiny. He wasn’t even open to listening to her, let alone believing her.

“Oh. Where are you going?”

“I’m leaving.”

“Come on, don’t leave. I enjoy your company, I want to get to know you better.”

“You enjoy the sex,” she said bluntly, pulling on her panties and jeans. “Which is fine. I do, too. But I don’t need to be made fun of. I’ve gotten enough of that in my life.”

“I’m not making fun of you.” Darius got of bed and came over to her, gloriously naked.

She would not be swayed by a majestic penis. She just wouldn’t.

“Look, I’m leaving in three days. I don’t see why we can’t spend some time together, talking, laughing, and yes, having sex.”

“As long as I don’t talk about being a witch.”

He winced before he covered it up. “We can talk about whatever you want,” he said, in a voice that made her want to rip his face off with an ice pick.

“No, I’m good. Thanks.” Abby pulled her sweater on without her bra, which she stuffed into her purse. “Let me know if you ever change your mind about selling the house. Best of luck to you.”

She grabbed her coat and left.

It wasn’t until she stepped outside into the blustery cold and realized that he had driven her here that she started crying, tears of pure frustration.

“Abby!”

In disbelief, she half-turned. Darius was in the doorway of the motel room, completely naked still.

“What the hell are you doing? You’re naked!”

“And you don’t have a ride. Come one, don’t leave like this.”

“I’m calling a cab. It’s no big deal. Go back inside before something important gets frostbite.” She started walking towards the motel office, figuring she could sit in there until a cab or one of her sisters could come and get her.

“Abby!”

She turned. Jesus. He was following her. Naked. In the snow. With no shoes on. She stopped in front of the office. Darius stopped next to the giant inflatable snowman the motel had put for a little holiday cheer. His snowman sign said Santa Stop. With a very muscular, very well-endowed naked man standing there, Santa might not be the only one stopping by. It was only a matter of time before someone saw him and called the cops.

“What is going on here?” An older lady opened the office door and popped her head out. She gave Darius a rather long and thorough once-over. “I’ve called the sheriff.”

Great. Fabulous. Her brother-in-law was on his way.

“Come back inside,” Darius said, coaxing, his hand reaching out to her.

The man was willing to stand naked in front of the motel manager and anyone who happened to be driving by, yet he couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that she was able to dream jump. So who was the crazy one here?

“Darius, go inside.” Before she lost her conviction to walk away from him.

The sound of sirens in the distance made Darius curse. He was very aware of the fact that his bare feet were screaming in agony from being sunk into snow and he knew the woman who had come out of the office was checking out his junk.

He had officially lost his mind.

Abby made him insane.

He couldn’t even begin to understand the effect she had on him. It wasn’t logical. It was scary. Weird. And naked.

“I’m going back in for my pants and shoes. I’ll be in the office in two minutes to talk to you.” Darius turned and walked as quickly as he could without breaking into a run. He wanted to retain at least an ounce of dignity. Of course, that was probably a fool’s errand given his ass was on display like a Christmas ham.

Trying not to whimper, he went into his room and pulled on his socks first thing. He couldn’t feel his feet. Then he yanked on jeans without boxers and a sweatshirt.

But when he got back to the office, Abby was gone.

There was only the sheriff, who said, “Sir, I have a few questions for you.”

The motel manager’s eyes were wide with curiosity and glee.

An hour later, Darius was free to go, grateful no one was pressing charges against him for public indecency.

He tried to call Abby. Twelve times. She didn’t answer.

Nor did she show up at the house.

Or in his dreams that night.

After two days of lonely misery and half-assed filming, Darius gave up and booked a flight to Florida on Christmas morning.

He didn’t want to be in Cuttersville without Abby.

Chapter Six

One Year Later

ABBY HELPED GEORGIA
shake some sprinkles on the sugar cookies they had rolled and cut into the shape of Christmas trees. Georgia had a tighter grip on the container than she did and in her over-enthusiasm dumped half the container onto one single cookie. Oops.

“Uh-oh,” Georgia said, her mouth forming in a wide “O” of horror.

“It doesn’t matter.” Abby brushed a few sprinkles off, but left the rest. “It will just be a super sparkly cookie.”

That was definitely the lesson she had learned in the last year. Small things didn’t matter. Big ones—health, family, friends—did. She was grateful to be back in Cuttersville permanently, pleased her online business was taking off, and happy enough to be living with Bree and Ian and the baby for the next six months or so.