His Christmas Present by Serenity Woods Page A

slow and languorous. It had been a blissful,
wonderful lesson in love that she couldn’t believe had happened all in one
night. It was as if she’d grown up—as if she finally understood the real
purpose of lovemaking.
    But now the sun had
begun to rise, spilling its light through the gap in the curtains, and soon
Dion would have to go.
    She bit her lip.
She was not going to cry. Every time he’d kissed her and slid inside
her, she’d told herself it was only for the one night. And she’d made the most
of it, thoroughly enjoying being with him at last. She was grateful for the
fact that he’d shown her what sex should really be like. And yet now he’d leave,
and she’d have to get on with her life knowing what she’d be missing.
    There are
plenty more fish in the sea, she told herself fiercely—Dion wasn’t the only great lover in the world.
But deep down she knew his bedroom skills weren’t what had made this so
special. She loved him. She’d loved him since she was fifteen—maybe even before
then, and she’d loved him all these years, even though they’d been apart.
    Realistically she
knew it must be in her head—she’d clung to a childish crush that had no
foundation in real love. And she wasn’t particularly a romanticist—she’d never
been given to flowery declarations of fate and meant-to-be. And yet she
couldn’t shake the feeling that meeting Dion in Prague had been fate. As
if when they’d parted, they’d remained joined by an invisible thread that had
eventually drawn them back together again. A gut feeling told her they were meant
to be together.
    But it wasn’t
going to happen.
    She knew he’d
enjoyed himself. But she didn’t know what he’d say if she declared her feelings
for him. Yes, she could say she loved him, that she’d be prepared to move to
England for him and would happily spend the rest of her life with him. But she
remembered the look on his face when he’d spoken about Lauren—impatience, mixed
with irritation. He didn’t want a fawning woman hanging onto his coattails
trying to tie him down with talk of babies and marriage. He wanted what she’d
given him—fun and sex, light hearted and with no strings attached. She’d known
that when she went to bed with him. She couldn’t change it now.
    He was stirring
behind her, and he kissed her ear before he rolled over and padded toward the
bathroom.
    She sat up,
keeping the duvet around her, and moved to the edge of the bed. Depression
settled over her, but she knew she had to hide it when he came out. She wanted
him to have good memories of this night, and she didn’t want it to end on a bad
note.
    Outside, the snow
had started falling again. It had stopped for a while, but now the tiny white
flakes descended slowly past the window in the early light, settling thickly on
the sill. What a strange day it had been. As if Santa had spirited them away to
a wonderland somewhere, removed from the problems and realities of life.
    Behind her the
door shut and Dion’s feet sounded on the carpet. Emotion welled inside her in
spite of her wish to keep it in, and she had to bite her lip to stop herself
from crying.
    The bed dipped,
and then he put his hands on her shoulders. Gently but firmly he pulled her
backward until she lay across the bed clutching the duvet to her as the cold
air wafted across her.
    “Hey,” he said,
upside down above her.
    “Hey.” She forced
her sadness away and smiled. “Good morning.”
    “It’s an excellent
morning.” He kissed her, an upside-down Spiderman kiss, his nose brushing her
chin as his lips played across hers. “And it’s still early.”
    “You have to get
ready for your meeting,” she scolded.
    “Not yet.” He kissed
her again. “I hoped you might have time for one more…” He thought about how to
phrase it.
    “Shag?”
    He laughed. “How
romantic. I was going to say ‘dalliance.’”
    “That would fit if
we lived in the eighteen fifties.”
    “It fits now.” He
kissed