Drake Sisters 02 - The Twilight Before Christmas

miniature lights winked on and off, colors flickering along the wal s and the high ceiling.
    “I’d like that, Kate.”
    He circled the house, checked the rooms beneath the deck and the beach for any signs of intrusion. He had the feeling the enemy was as fatigued as they were. He glanced out to sea. “How about giving us a break, buddy,” he murmured softly. “Whatever has you al upset, Kate had nothing to do with it.”
    Above his head the skies opened up and poured down rain. Matt grinned wryly and hurried back to the house. Back to Kate. The gas fireplace was lit, the “logs” burning cheerful y. On the mantel were several lighted candles. The scent of berry permeated the air. In the flickering lights, he saw Kate, lying naked on the sheets, her body beautiful, sprawled lazily on the covers while she watched the lights of the Christmas tree. His breath rushed from his lungs, so that he burned for air, just standing there in the doorway staring in surprise at the most incredible Christmas present he could imagine. That was how he thought of her. His Christmas present. He would love this time of year forever.
    “Matthew.” She turned over, smiled at him. “Come lie down with me.”
    He could see the real Kate Drake. On the outside, she seemed flawless, perfect, out of reach, yet she was real y vulnerable, and as fragile as she was courageous. Kate needed a shield and he was more than happy to be that shield, for her. He could stand between her and the rest of the world. “Give me a minute, Kate.”
    Kate turned back to the tree, watching the lights blinking on and off, so many colors flickering across the wal . It was heaven just to lie down and rest. To relax. More than anything she loved to feel Matt’s heated gaze on her. He made her feel beautiful and incredibly special. He was a large man, and the feel of his hands on her body, the way his body came alive at the sight of her, was a gift. A treasure.
    Kate lay with the sheets cool on her skin and the lights playing over her body. She imagined his hands on her. His eyes on her. Thinking about him made her grow hot with need. A smal sound alerted her, and she looked up to see him towering over her. For a moment she couldn’t breathe. She drank him in. His strong legs and muscular thighs. His amazing erection. His flat stomach and heavily muscled chest. Final y, his eyes. His eyes had turned smoky, seductive, and now they smoldered with intensity and heat. “You take my breath away.” It was a sil y thing to say, but it was true. She patted the blanket beside her. She wanted to touch him, to know he was real. To feel him solid and strong beneath her fingertips.

    “I’m supposed to say that to you.” He stretched out beside her, gathered her into his arms to hold her to him. “I want to lie here with you for a very long time.”
    She rested her head on his shoulder, fitting her body more closely to his. “I wouldn’t mind staying here for the rest of the winter, locked away in our own private world.” She stretched languidly, pleased to be able to relax. To have him holding her with such gentleness.
    Matt knew she was tired, and it was enough to hold her in his arms, even with his body raging at him and her body so soft and inviting and open to his. His mouth drifted down the side of her neck. She snuggled closer, turning her head toward the Christmas tree, giving him even better access.
    “I love the way you smel ,” he said. Because he couldn’t resist, he slid his palm over her skin. He’d never felt anything so soft. He traced her ribs, a gentle exploration, not in the least demanding, simply wanting to touch her. Her soft bel y cal ed to him, a mystery for a breast man, but he loved the way she reacted each time he caressed her there.
    Kate smiled. “I love the feel of your hands.”
    “I’ve always hated my hands. Workingman hands, rough and big and meant for manual labor.”
    “Meant to bring pleasure to a woman, you mean,” she contradicted, and caught his hand to bring it to her lips. She kissed the pads of his fingers, nibbled on the tips, and drew one into her mouth.
    He caught his breath, aching with love, burning up with need. “Everything about you is so damned feminine, Kate. Sometimes I’m afraid if I touch you, I’m going to break you.” He measured her wrist loosely by circling it with his thumb and index finger.
    She laughed and rubbed her body against his affectionately, almost like a contented cat. “I doubt