Drake Sisters 02 - The Twilight Before Christmas

find the appropriate entry in the diaries. There are quite a few written in the symbols, and my sisters wil need help. I don’t think we have a lot of time to figure this out, Matthew. It’s only a few days until Christmas, and I think this thing means to stop the town from having a Christmas.” It sounded melodramatic even to her own ears. How could she expect to have any kind of a relationship with Matthew Granite and stil be who and what she was?
    “Time enough, Kate. We’l go right after we take care of things here. I promise.”
    She lifted an eyebrow. “What things? I thought you and Jonas and Jackson took care of everything.”
    Matt padded over to her on his bare feet and simply lifted her in his arms. “It takes some getting used to.”
    Kate clasped her fingers at the nape of his neck. “I’l admit I’ve never faced anything like this before.” She wanted him. Suited or not, for just this space of time, Matthew belonged to her.
    “I wasn’t referring to our foggy fiend. I was referring to you. Having you in my house. Having you right here where I can look at you or touch you.” He set her on the tiled counter and slid his hand inside the warmth of the robe.
    He loved her instant response, the way she pushed into his hand. Welcoming him. “Remind me to thank your sister for the warning.” Matt leaned forward to take her offering into the warmth of his mouth.
    “I think you’re a breast man,” she teased.
    “Mmmm, maybe,” he agreed, his hands sliding down her waist and over her hips inside the robe. “But you also have a beautiful butt, Kate. I absolutely love the way you walk. I used to get behind you just to breathe a little life into my fantasies.”
    He was wedging himself between her legs, and Kate opened her thighs wider to accommodate him. “You’ve had fantasies about my rear end?”
    “More than you’l ever know.” He leaned in to capture her mouth. To spread heat and fire. Her fingers tangled in his hair. His fingers tangled in hers. Their mouths welded together so that they breathed for one another. He pul ed her bottom closer to the edge of the counter and yanked her robe al the way open. “I’ve had fantasies about every separate part of you.” Very gently he slid her legs apart.
    “Matthew.” There was a gasp in her voice. Kate stared at the long bank of windows, her hands stil in his hair. “What are you doing?”
    “Having you for breakfast. I’ve always wanted you for breakfast.”
    If Kate had thought to protest, it was far too late. He was already devouring her, and she was too far gone to care where they were. It was a deliciously decadent moment, and she reveled in it as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her and rushed through her. The room spun dizzily, and colors mixed together, while his tongue and his fingers worked magic on her body. Her hands grabbed the edge of the smooth-tiled counter to keep herself anchored when she was flying so high, but then he was lifting her and laying her on the table, his body buried deep inside of hers, and there was no room for thought. No room for anything but feeling. The sound of his body joining with hers, their pounding hearts and heavy breathing, was a kind of music accompanying the strong orgasms as they broke over her and through her. His heat was so deep inside of her, she felt as though she were melting from the inside out.
    She stared up into his face, the hard angles and planes, the rough shadow on his jaw. His eyes held secrets, things he had seen that should never have been witnessed. She realized how alone he seemed, even in the midst of his family. Like Jonas. Or Jackson. A man apart, not by choice, but by experiences. Kate framed his face with her palms, her thumb sliding in a caress over his faint whiskers. “You’re a very wonderful man, Matthew Granite. I hope you know how special you are.”
    He gathered her to him as if she were the most precious being on the face of the earth, carrying her tenderly to the bathroom so they could shower. He said little, but he watched her al the time, would reach out and touch her body, her face, his fingers lingering against her skin, almost as if he couldn’t believe she was real.
    “My clothes are dirty,” she said, pul ing them on. At least she managed to tame her hair, braiding the long length and swirling the braid around the back of her head in an intricate knot.
    He smiled at her. “Your clothes are never dirty, you just think they are.” He