Barbells at Christmas Read online

  What would her mother say? Lisa hoped she never found out!

  And she’d totally do it again. And again and again, because Angel was hot as a nuclear reactor, and she just wanted his dick inside her right now. She felt dizzy.

  She took a deep breath. Then another and another, until the memory had faded somewhat. She realised she was biting her own fingers with need.

  Abandoning her boozy plans, Lisa turned heel and ran to the bathroom and wrenched at the shower handles. A spray of icy water spewed forth and she hopped under it, underwear and all.

  It didn’t work. She stuck her fingers in her crotch and worked her clit until her toes curled and she was gasped at the climax that rocked her. She’d never felt it so intensely before. Was every time going to be like this from now on? Had Angel awakened something in her?

  She hoped so. Oh, she hoped so.

  Shivering, she shut off the water and climbed out. She grabbed her towel and rubbed herself dry, discarding her bedraggled panties in the sink. She was just shrugging into her bathrobe when the doorbell rang.

  Lisa froze. Could it be?

  No. She hadn’t even given him her number or her last name. But she wished—

  She ran to the front door and peeked through the peephole.

  Angel stood outside her door, something in his hands.

  I’m a mess, Lisa thought, then laughed at herself because it was way, way too late for that. She opened the door, inviting a gust of icy air inside. Her teeth chattered.

  Angel stood there, looking like sin in an Adidas track suit. He was adorable, and he was holding two cups of Starbucks in his hands. She wanted to tell him she loved him, but thought he might get the wrong idea. She’d love Stalin if he showed up at her door with Starbucks, or at least would give him a friendly hug.

  “Am I interrupting you?” he asked. His eyes darted from side to side. Oh, he was nervous. That was so cute.

  “No,” she gasped. “Come in.” And she stepped aside and let him in.

  “I’m sorry for showing up like this,” he said. He edged past her, but he didn’t have to touch her for her to get turned on again. She just had to inhale as he passed by, and his scent had her hot and ready again.

  Keep your cool, idiot, she told herself. She shivered again and shut the door. “No, not at all,” she said.

  “I just...” He swallowed hard. “To be honest, I feel like a creep. I looked up your address in the computer.”

  Oh. That was how he got here. Yeah, okay, that was a little creepy, but at least he knew it. She crossed her arms. “Um,” she said. She obviously could not be trusted to think like an adult where he was concerned.

  He finally seemed to get the courage to look at her. Their eyes met, and she tingled down to her toes.

  “Lisa,” he said, “I will go away and never come back if you don’t want me here. But I had to tell you something.”

  Her heart dropped. He wasn’t single. He had some sort of horrible wasting disease. He’d given her some sort of horrible wasting disease. He was Stalin in disguise. Oh, crap.

  “What is it?” she asked, her mouth dry.

  His lips thinned and he dropped his eyes. “Last night was…amazing. But I wasn’t thinking straight.”

  Don’t, she thought. Don’t even break up with me without first asking me out.

  A miracle happened.

  He swallowed. “I wasn’t thinking straight, and I forgot to get your number. And that’s why I’m here. Because I would have called you today if I’d had it. I would have called and asked you out. And…” He trailed off. He clearly didn’t know how to finish his thought.

  Lisa didn’t have that problem. “So you want to go on a date with me?” she said, and though she was floating, she had a sudden attack of doubt. What if they got to know each other and hated what they saw? What if they screamed and shouted and never talked again, and the memory of those minutes in the locker room were forever tainted because of that? What if, what if, what if—?

  And also, wasn’t this backwards? Shouldn’t she have gotten to know him first, then slept with him? That was the sort of advice she’d always been given, but Lisa had never been good at taking advice, and sex like that didn’t come along every day, unless you were very lucky. Well, maybe this was her big break.

  He was staring at her.

  She grinned at him.

  “I would love to go out with you,” she said.

  Tension she hadn’t even noticed him holding suddenly drained out of him, and his shoulders relaxed. “Now?” he asked, just like a little boy on Christmas, so eager and ready to open his present.

  “Yes,” she said, “but you have to wait outside while I get dressed.”

  He grinned back at her and nodded. “I will wait.”

  She ushered him outside, looked around her disaster area of a flat, and couldn’t even begin to care. She dashed to her bedroom, pulled on underwear and jeans and a sweater, darted into the bathroom and aimed the hair dryer at her head for as long as she could stand to wait, then smoothed on some lipstick and grabbed her purse. The whole time her neurotic brain rattled off item after item of things that could go wrong, of reasons not to do this, but she’d had enough of listening to her brain. She wanted to listen to her heart, or a reasonable facsimile thereof.

  He could turn out to be a jerk. Maybe he’d leave the cap off the toothpaste, or maybe he hated Indian food, or perhaps he thought dogs were gross and only liked gerbils. A million things could go wrong.

  Lisa opened the door. Angel turned and smiled at her, and held out a cup of coffee.

  She took it. His fingers brushed hers, and in that instant, she saw, at the end of the concrete breezeway leading to her flat, the first few flakes of snow of the first snowfall of the year.

  For a moment, she thought she saw the ghost of Christmases yet to come.

  She raised her coffee in a toast and stepped out with Angel into the crisp, snowy day.

  About the Author

  Heather Howard lives in Texas with one husband, two dogs, and an ever-proliferating garden, all of whom seem to require constant feeding and attention. When they aren’t looking, she talks to herself on paper. Sometimes, a book comes out!

  Email: [email protected]

  Heather loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.total-e-bound.com.

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