28. Home for Christmas
twenty-eight
Home for Christmas
K ourt carries me to the truck in silence. We leave the stunned Blitzen crowd speechless, back in the gym. He opens the passenger side and puts me in. A few more silent moments later, the ignition starts. “Buckle up.”
“No.” I reach across, put the truck in park, then slide over the console, crawling into his lap, straddling him. His hand presses against the back of my waist and he pulls me into him, dropping our foreheads together.
“Erika.” He breathes me in. A hot tear drops down my cheek, and his thumb moves to wipe it away. “You watched me play. You rooted for me.”
“You were the best one out there. It’s where you belong, McClain.”
Kourt smiles at me and brushes my hair behind my ear, studying me for a long moment.
“Why did you take me Kourt?”
“You know why.”
“Say it.”
Kourt grows so hard underneath me, I whimper as I adjust in his lap. He looks deep into my eyes as his large hands trap my cheeks on both sides. His expression is too complicated to read. “I haven’t even kissed you yet.” His eyes roam my face.
“Tell me, Kourt.”
“I can’t watch you with anybody else, Erika.”
“Why?”
“Because I want you so bad I can’t fucking see straight.”
He pulls my face to his lips. We come together with a tender kiss, and I pull away from the strong peck it becomes with butterflies unleashing in a frenzy.
My eyes wide on his, and then, as natural as if we’d been doing this for years, his hands leave my cheeks, our faces tilt and he opens his mouth on mine so hungrily I almost can’t contain it.
A warmth I’ve never known fills my chest and the pit of my stomach.
The moment he pulls slightly back, scraping his teeth on my bottom lip, then licking it until his tongue moves inside to find mine—I’m molded to his lap.
I lean in, kissing him back as ferociously, and he groans into my mouth so loudly I feel it in my center.
Strong hands trail through my hair, and it’s all I can do not to rock my hips into him.
“Fuck, Erika.” He pulls away, looking up at me. His hands squeeze into my hips and ass, holding me in place on his lap as if he can neither handle me leaving it, nor moving in it.
A few key fobs beep, car doors open and shut, ignitions start, and more voices are heard coming out of the gym.
“You better put the gear in drive,” I warn as I force myself off of him and slide back to my side. Kourt lifts the middle console in his truck, and with one arm slides me back to him, to his side.
“Trust me. It already is.”
He grins, raising an eyebrow, and I roll my eyes and try to keep from smiling like a child. He pulls out of the gym and races up the mountain, faster than he drove when he got the emergency call.
This place… his place. It’s incredible. I suspected it was a modern log cabin from the outside, but the architecture, and the way it’s designed inside—this must have been custom made by someone who knew exactly what they wanted and how they want to live.
And the beauty of it is, I can’t tell if it was built by some Hemingway-type coal miner way back in the day, or a hippie master craftsmen in the seventies, or a top-notch contemporary designer.
My mind swirls at all the questions I want to ask Kourt as I shake my head and bite my bottom lip, looking it all over. Later, though. I don’t have to know it all today, and I would never want to pry too deeply into subjects rooted with his wife.
All I need to know is this is his home, and I’m ashamed to admit to myself how much it feels like one… to me.
Josie’s place is incredible and has so much potential to be anything one could want it to be, but this cabin—God, people in Chicago dream of having the wherewithal to create or carve out a home like this, be it in the middle of their high-rise building or in some tucked-away forever home they finally get to migrate to.
It’s masculine and screams bachelor in the most delicious way.
It’s private but inviting. Independent, yet all open concept.
Every corner is cozy and warm, with traces of the man who inhabits it.
It’s charming as much as it’s virile and red-blooded, and the smell of him surrounds me.
Forcing myself to ignore the heated swell in my lower belly causing my core to ache at the new discovery of him, I turn back toward the living room.
Kourt’s aluminum Christmas tree sparkles in front of me. The silver branches are made of tinsel-like threads, exactly like the one I pulled out of the attic and set up at Aunt Josie’s. Only, his branches glow in the crackle of the fire he lit for us .
It’s beautiful, and of all the Christmases I’ve been chasing, standing in Kourt’s cozy living room by the tree and fireplace with the most incredible mountain view I’ve ever seen is the closest I’ve come.
The glow of the fire beckons me, and I step closer, tracing the stone mantle, a trophy or two, and a few pictures of the siblings he spoke of.
A gasp flies from my open mouth. To the left of the fireplace behind the tree, stands Great Aunt Josie’s statue from the auction.
“What can I say? I’m a corkscrew enthusiast. It wouldn’t fit on the mantle… or anywhere, so—”
“Kourt,” I whisper almost inaudibly, still facing the statue. It was him.
He bought my auction piece.
An arm reaches over my shoulder and he hands me a cup of hot spiced cider. The entire house smells of cinnamon, orange, and clove now. And… Wow.
“Spiced rum, brandy or whiskey?” Or very fragrant gasoline? This is strong.
Kourt winks. “Whiskey, but all you need to know is go slow on that one. It’s my great grandmother’s tradition, and it’s meant to be sipped.”
He stares at me by his fire, then goes back to his blanket sorting.
“Are you making me a fort?” I ask with a small grin.
I’m the most comfortable I’ve ever been in my own skin, but at the same time, everything he says, everything he hasn’t said since we got here has me ready to jump out of it.
I’m nervous in the best possible way. The anticipation kind.
I have no idea what Kourt has in store for me, but I know I want it. Without question.
“You just sip and get warm,” he reprimands.
Oh, I’m quite warm already.
Moments later, and lost in the fire, I move to take another sip from my mug, when I feel Kourt on his knees behind me. My sweater dress lifts up to my waist, and I suck in a short, tight breath.
“Is this the outfit from the town meeting?”
“Umm. It… is.” I stutter at the surprise of his warm hands on my thighs. His voice so firm and matter of fact. I force mine to match his. “The very sweater dress, yes.” It comes out as cool and criminal as I planned.
“You’re more covered up this time. You have on tights.” He pulls the nylon material away from my thigh between the pads of two fingers and snaps it back in place. A crooked smile he cannot see betrays my face.
Sending goosebumps up my spine, he runs a seam down the center back of my leg—slowly. Tantalizingly, his finger traces back up my leg.
“I didn’t want to give Ellis the wrong impression.”
“So… you showed up bare-legged for me that day of the meeting. If I were to slide these down now—that would be the impression meant for me?” Kourt slides my tights down my hips, upper thighs, and legs so slowly, electricity tingles through my body.
“That depends on what impression you have.” I’m visibly shaking at his touch, but my voice comes out remarkably coy and controlled. It’s insane what he conjures out of me—words I’d never say, feelings I’ve never felt, and judging by how very turned on I am right now… things I’d never normally do.
In one small motion Kourt turns my body to face him. My tights are rolled down to the ankles of my high heeled boots. Kourt’s face is eye level with my most intimate parts.
He takes in my red lace panties and licks his lips. “What was that you whispered in my ear at the poinsettia farm, Erika?” He hooks his finger in the crotch of my panties and slides them to the side exposing me to him.
I suck in a shallow breath and cut my eyes down to his.
“You said, Erika, that if you wanted to put your mouth on any part of my body, you wouldn’t have to ask. I’m under the impression I’m allowed that same courtesy.”
My eyes pop open. My heart thunders and before I can respond, Kourt’s mouth is on me. No, his tongue is in me in the most feral way. He went from a calm, strategic criminal to a hungry thief.
“You’re so fucking wet it’s unreal. Fuck. Is this what it’s like to taste you…”
The sensation as his tongue slides deeper inside me is more than I can handle. My legs are already quivering.
He smiles. I feel his lips across my center as he notices.
In one balanced motion, he rolls backward onto the blankets.
My knees bend and lunge forward to meet him on the floor.
His one finger hooked inside me and the other reaching through, cradling my ass, as if he could lift me that way with ease.
The way he handles me… In that smooth motion he has me sitting on his face, and I am already trembling again from anticipation.
“Is this what you had in mind when you whispered in my ear?” He looks up at me, from me.
“Please… Kourt.” I can barely breathe, much less think of a witty comeback.
“Please, Kourt, what?” He flicks his tongue across me and slides his finger deeper inside.
“Better,” I let out a breathy moan as I run my hands through his hair. “It’s better.” I’ve never felt so exposed, and I’m still wearing my dress, the sweater is scrunched up above my belly button.
I slide it the rest of the way off, and toss it to the side, leaving me in my bra, panties and the tights I forgot rolled to my boots and stretched to the max between my ankles.
Kourt’s tongue stops. His eyes roam up my body. He slides me down his chest and stomach to rest on his erection. I feel how hard he is on my bare skin, the fabric of his jeans pressing into me where my lace panties are still pulled aside.