A Second Chance Road Trip for Christmas Read online

  And he’d felt like he was a yoke around her neck, preventing her from fully enjoying the university experience. The high school boyfriend who’d outstayed his welcome, even if they still cared for each other. She should be meeting other guys, having lots of new experiences, not spending her limited free time talking to him on MSN Messenger. In the end, he’d been the one to suggest breaking up, but it had been mutual. They’d both agreed it wasn’t working.

  Perhaps it wouldn’t have turned out any differently if they’d gone to the same university.

  Squeak, squeak, squeak.

  “Oh, Ethel,” said a muffled male voice.

  Tasha laughed. “Ethel isn’t a name you hear much anymore, is it?”

  “It was my great-grandmother’s name,” Greg said.

  “Can you imagine giving a little girl that name?”

  “Many old names have become popular again.”

  “Yeah, but not ‘Ethel.’ Or ‘Bertha.’”

  “This is true.”

  “Herbert!” said a not-so-muffled female voice from the other side of the wall.

  So the people next door were Ethel and Herbert. Charming.

  “How old do you think they are?” Tasha asked.

  “I bet they’re two sixteen-year-olds who snuck off during the snowstorm.”

  “Ethel and Herbert, the coolest kids in school.”

  “No, with names like those, they’re probably in their eighties. Perhaps they were heading out to visit their adult children for the holidays, and they stopped when the weather took a turn for the worse and decided to make the best of the power outage.”

  “I hope I’m still having sex when I’m eighty-five.”

  “Same here,” he said. “I just hope I’m not so loud about it.”

  “I don’t think there’s much danger of that. You were never loud.”

  For half a minute, all he could hear was the squeak of the bed springs and his own breathing.

  And then another, “Oh, Herbert!”

  Greg felt a strange fondness for this older couple having sex in a dark motel room, though he wished they’d do it a little more quietly.

  He also couldn’t help wishing that he and Tasha hadn’t drifted apart. Maybe they could be stuck in this motel as a married couple, with a small child sleeping between them.

  He shouldn’t think about it, but he did.

  What if...

  “Ethel!”

  “Oh, Herbie!”

  The squeaking got even louder, and Greg was more uncomfortable than amused, though he was also thinking about doing exactly the same thing with Tasha.

  What would it be like to sleep with her now? Would it be as good as he remembered?

  Was his memory faulty?

  “Yes, just like that. Herbieeeee.”

  This was followed by a few bangs.

  Dear God.

  On the other side of the bed, Tasha chuckled, low and husky. Goddammit, he wanted her.

  “I hope nobody busts their hip,” she said.

  “I hope they stop this infernal racket soon,” he muttered.

  She shifted toward him and put her hand on his shoulder. “You sound like an old man.” But she said it with affection, and he didn’t mind at all.

  Tentatively, he reached out and ran his hand over the curve of her hip.

  In response, she cupped his jaw with her hand. He could feel her breath on his cheek.

  And then he kissed her on the lips. Just once.

  Tasha wasn’t as gentle. She yanked him on top of her, and when he pressed his lips to hers again, she thrust her tongue into his mouth.

  Greg’s body came alive in a way it hadn’t for years. He was aware of every place they were touching. Her legs between his. Her breasts against his chest. Of course, there were a couple layers of sweater between them, but still.

  She arched against him, pressing against him there.

  He growled as his cock hardened, then shifted his lips away from hers and kissed his way down to where her jaw met her neck—she’d always been particularly sensitive in that spot.

  And she still was.

  “Greg,” she whispered, much more quietly than Ethel next door.

  He loved hearing her say his name when she was underneath him.

  He shifted his mouth back to Tasha’s and tasted a hint of Coffee Crisp, something he’d tasted on her lips before.

  “Ethel!”

  “Herbieee!”

  This was followed by more banging and squeaking.

  Greg could feel Tasha’s smile against his lips. He smiled back before cupping her ass and bringing her more firmly against him as he continued to kiss her.

  It had been many, many years, but it still felt right.

  Familiar, though not quite the same.

  Tasha started grinding her hips against his, and he slipped his hand under her sweater and shirt, smooth skin meeting his fingertips.

  He shuddered. He wanted more. He wanted—

  Suddenly, they were bathed in light. What on earth was going on?

  Oh, right. The power had been restored.

  Greg looked down at Tasha, her braids fanned out on the pillow, her sweater pushed up, one hand gripping his shoulder.

  He was making out with his ex-girlfriend.

  And he’d known what he was doing, but it felt like he hadn’t really known until now.

  Tasha looked even more stunned. When he rolled off her, she shifted away from him. He missed her body heat, and not just because it was cold in the room.

  “Ethel!”

  “Herbie!”

  A couple more bangs and it seemed to be over.

  Strange that a presumably-elderly couple having sex next door during a power outage had encouraged Greg to kiss his ex. The world worked in odd ways.

  He couldn’t bring himself to regret it, though.

  Tasha, however, still looked stunned.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, not letting himself reach for her.

  “Me? Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Just worried about Ethel’s hip. Anyway, I’m going to head to the washroom to wrap up my hair and brush my teeth, and maybe we can go to sleep soon?”

  “Sure. Of course. Yeah.”

  Why was he sounding like a loon?

  Tasha padded across the room, and Greg lay back in the bed, feeling like his world had been knocked slightly off orbit.

  He wanted to kiss her again. He wanted to lose himself in her.

  But he didn’t think she wanted the same thing.

  Chapter 7

  Tasha couldn’t sleep.

  She blamed it on the howling wind and the unheated motel room. She had fuzzy socks and a big sweater and several blankets, and she still didn’t feel warm enough. She was even contemplating putting her toque back on, over her silk scarf.

  No, she shouldn’t lie to herself.

  The reason she couldn’t sleep was because Greg was lying next to her.

  They were sharing a queen-size bed. There was a healthy distance between them, but she was quite conscious of his presence.

  And he’d kissed her.

  All those years ago, she’d been the one who’d kissed him first. He’d asked her on a date. It was May, and, stammering, he’d suggested a picnic.

  She smiled at the memory. How many sixteen-year-old boys would pack a proper lunch—not just a bag of chips and some pop—in a wicker basket and bring it to the park by the lake? He’d made a pasta salad, and there was also a baguette and two types of cheese—cheap marble and cheddar, but still—and juice and chocolate. More than once, he’d leaned forward, and she’d thought he was going to kiss her, but he didn’t.

  So, finally, she’d taken matters into her own hands.

  She wanted to kiss him again tonight. She wanted to do more than that, in all honesty.

  It didn’t have to mean anything. She’d simply found herself in bed with a handsome man from her past who could kiss the daylights out of her; they could have their fun while they were trapped in the snowstor
m, then head their separate ways tomorrow.

  She never got involved with an ex-boyfriend, not since Lance, but they wouldn’t be getting involved.

  No, they’d just have a bit of fun.

  Liar.

  Tasha shoved that stupid voice out of her brain. It didn’t know what it was talking about.

  Next to her, Greg rolled over and sighed. Apparently, he couldn’t sleep, either. Hopefully it was because he, too, was thinking about their kiss.

  Or possibly he was planning his next birdwatching expedition. It was hard to know.

  Damn, why did she find his hobbies so endearing?

  And, like, kind of sexy?

  Perhaps because he was so unreservedly himself. Like in high school, when he’d never tried to fit in.

  “I can’t sleep,” she said.

  “I can’t sleep, either.”

  Greg was thorough and detail-oriented, and it wasn’t surprising he’d remembered the spot just below her jaw that she liked. He could also be rather intense, like in his hatred for Christmas music—though she could have sworn his lips had quirked up when she was singing—but she’d experienced that intensity focused on her, and there was nothing else like it.

  She couldn’t suppress a shudder.

  “Are you cold?” he asked, his quiet, concerned voice coming through the darkness. “Do you want one of the sleeping bags? I don’t think this building has very good insulation, in addition to the lack of heating. Or...never mind.”

  “Or, what?”

  “We could cuddle.” He cleared his throat. “Share body heat. You know.”

  “Maybe after.”

  “After what?”

  “We have sex. If you’re interested.”

  There was a long silence.

  Yes, he’d kissed her, but maybe she’d miscalculated.

  “If you don’t want to, that’s fine,” she said in a rush. “I just figured we might as well. It wouldn’t mean anything, of course, but I haven’t had sex in a while, and I know we can make each other feel good, and that kiss was pretty great, wasn’t it?”

  Oh, no. She was babbling, and she couldn’t see his expression.

  And then he was on top of her, and she melted into the soft mattress.

  “I’m interested,” he said.

  “Oh.” She released a breath. “Well, then.” She paused. “Shit, I don’t have any condoms.”

  “Don’t worry. I do.”

  Of course he did. He was prepared for everything. It only stood to reason that a guy who had two sleeping bags, a kettle, and a space heater in his trunk would also have condoms.

  The mattress shifted, and she missed his weight and heat on top of her, but it wasn’t long before he returned.

  “I have two requests,” he said.

  “Yes?”

  “I’d like to turn the light on so I can see you.”

  She wasn’t usually self-conscious about her body, but Greg had seen her naked when she was young and thin and had a flat stomach.

  “Tasha?” he said softly. “Is that okay?”

  “I don’t look like I did when I was nineteen. I’ve gained at least twenty-five pounds.”

  “So have I.”

  “But yours is mostly muscle.” She bet he had a regimented fitness routine. That seemed like Greg. She couldn’t wait to touch him all over.

  “You’ve been checking me out, have you?”

  “Yeah, when you were whining about Christmas music.”

  “I wasn’t whining.”

  “Fine. Making your displeasure known in a non-whiny way.”

  “That’s better.”

  “You can turn on the light,” she said, “and you can touch me anywhere you want, but don’t completely remove my sweater, because I’m cold.”

  “Anything else?” He wasn’t much of a talker in the bedroom, but he’d always wanted to know how she felt and what she wanted.

  “No, but you said you had a second request?”

  “Yes. You can say my name, but please be quieter than Ethel and Herbie.”

  “That sounds soooo difficult, because I’m sure you’ll make me feel soooo good.”

  “Tasha,” he said sternly.

  Ooh, she’d missed his stern voice.

  “Okay, I’ll behave,” she said.

  He flicked on the lamp by the side of the bed. “No, you won’t.” His dark eyes were intent on her face, and her breath came faster. “But I like it that way.”

  “Take off your clothes,” she commanded. “All of them.”

  “As you wish.”

  “Unless you’re going to be too cold.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  He pulled his shirt over his head, and she swallowed hard. He really did look good.

  He smirked as she lay there admiring at him, and then he stripped off his pajama pants and boxers in one smooth move. She couldn’t help staring at his cock, long and heavy between his legs.

  He lay on top of her again, and her sweater rode up as her arms went around him, exposing a slice of her skin to his.

  “How are you so hot?” she murmured.

  “May I ask which meaning of the word you’re using?”

  Well, both, but... “There’s no heat in the room, and yet you’re warm.”

  He tugged off her pants. His warmer legs tangled with hers, and she gasped as he rocked his hips. “I’m going to heat you up.”

  His hands slipped under her sweater and cupped her breasts. He rubbed the tip of one nipple between his fingers. As his mouth descended to hers, she couldn’t help but imagine him doing this with other women. Being naked in bed, using his adorably stern voice on them.

  No, it seemed wrong. He was hers. She’d found him first.

  You’re dating Greg? Her friends hadn’t understood the appeal. Sure, he was decent-looking, but wasn’t he a little weird?

  She’d felt like she was in on some great secret.

  She pushed aside her thoughts of the past, as well as her jealousy. It had been many years, and she doubted Greg had had a ton of sexual partners, but of course he’d had some—he’d had three relationships, after all.

  Besides, she wouldn’t have wanted him to be celibate...and perhaps he’d picked up some useful skills in that time.

  She giggled as his head disappeared under her sweater. He brought the tip of one nipple into his mouth and swirled his tongue around it. Then he did something with his mouth that defied description, but it felt amazing.

  His head reappeared, and he shifted up her body.

  “How are you doing?” he asked.

  “I’m good. Very good.”

  When they were younger, they’d been eager but also hesitant; it was different now. She brought her hands down to his firm ass and gave it a squeeze, not at all ashamed that this was what she wanted to do.

  His palms slid over her nipples then her belly, smoothing a path down her legs, then back to her ass, and all the while he kissed her mouth in a heated, yet deliberate way.

  He still had a little too much control for her liking. She’d always delighted in making him lose himself, when he was normally such a sensible, measured person.

  She wiggled her ass and spread her legs so his cock rubbed against the juncture of her thighs. He grunted.

  She hadn’t heard this particular grunt in a while, because he only made it when they were in bed together. Or in a parked car, or in a snow fort. It was the one he made when he was turned on.

  She was an expert in his noises.

  He continued to run his warm hands all over her cooler skin—she’d forgotten how large his hands were—and every part of her body tingled in the wake of his touch.

  “How long has it been for you?” she asked suddenly.

  “Oh, about four years. Since my last relationship ended.”

  “Four years?”

  “Yes.” His eyes danced with amusement. “Surprised?”

  “Let’s hope you’re not rusty.”

  “I don’t think you have to w
orry about that,” he murmured.

  “It’s been four months for me.”

  “Mm.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Nothing. Just an acknowledgment of your words.” He paused. “No judgment. I wanted you to have lots of, uh, experiences.”

  Before she could reply, he cupped her mound over her underwear. Not a particularly pretty pair, as she certainly hadn’t expected this to happen.

  He held her gaze, and when she nodded, he slipped them off and tossed them somewhere among all the blankets on the bed. Then he rubbed two long fingers over her entrance, groaning as he pushed them inside her. “You feel so good, Tasha.”

  She was practically trembling, and he wasn’t even moving his fingers. Why wasn’t he moving his fingers?

  She circled her hips, desperate for more, and he laughed softly in her ear.

  “Yes,” he said, “be greedy.”

  And with that, his head disappeared under the covers. He licked over her slit, nice and slow.

  She nearly jumped off the bed. Dear God, his mouth was incredible.

  He continued to lick her as he leisurely thrust his fingers in and out, and she could hear her moisture as he moved. He nuzzled her inner thigh, his stubble rubbing over her sensitive skin.

  Ohhh.

  “Any complaints about my rustiness?” he asked, his words muffled by the blankets.

  “No. None at all.”

  And then he was eating her out as though he was a starving man who hadn’t eaten a meal in, well, four years. She gripped the comforter and bucked against his face, close but not quite there. And he would know that, because over the time they’d been together, he’d learned how to read her well, learned how to give her the best oral sex.

  Except...what was that move? He definitely hadn’t done that before.

  It was sort of like... Oh, fuck. She didn’t know. It just felt really good.

  He lifted his mouth from her, ever so briefly, and parted her folds with his thumbs before diving back down for more.

  Her grip on the comforter tightened, and she emitted a tiny squeak.

  “Greg...”

  He redoubled his efforts, his tongue swiping over her entrance then circling faster over her clit, and when he slipped his finger inside her and curled it, she shrieked in pleasure. She clutched his head through the blankets, holding him against her as she came.