The Wedding Date: A Christmas Novella Read Online Free Page B

it Texas.

 
    Chapter Four
----
    J ULIE HAD BEEN propositioned before. It wasn’t all that unusual.
    What was unusual was her overheated reaction to Cody’s invitation.
    She’d kept a grip on herself enough to compromise with lunch instead of bed, but as she looped an arm around his waist for the sprint to the pub, she wondered if there was such a thing as compromise with Cody, or if he was an all-or-nothing kind of guy.
    They ducked inside, two drowned rats dripping on the floor. The hostess station was deserted. Julie hung Cody’s jacket and her own drenched coat on hooks. Turned around in time to see him wring out his T-shirt, then flap it a few times. She got a glimpse of his abs, and goose bumps rippled up her arms. She told herself she was chilly.
    Then he shook his head like a dog, spattering water off his hair.
    She leapt back. “Hey!”
    He laughed. Came closer. Opened his arms.
    She backed up a step. “Don’t even think about it.”
    “Oh, I’m thinking.”
    “I’m serious, Cody.”
    “Me too, Julie.” He grinned an evil grin that raised goose bumps again. “I’m gonna get you wet.”
    She caught his double meaning. “Don’t,” she said, but her voice snagged on the word.
    He took another step. His eyes had gone hot. “Beg me,” he said, his voice gruff now, and deep.
    Another step. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Her heaving breasts bumped his chest.
    “Beg me,” he whispered, locked on her eyes.
    Her tongue touched her lips. They were dry.
    She was wet.
    Slowly, he lowered his lips to her ear. “Julie,” his warm breath fanned her skin, “I’m counting to three. One.” He licked a raindrop from the lobe of her ear. “Two.” He bit down, tugging ever so lightly. “Three.” His arms came around her, crushing her to his sopping chest.
    It should have felt awful. Cold and slimy. Instead it felt hot and sweaty and totally awesome. His chest was a wall, his arms iron bands.
    And his crotch, well that was just ridiculous. She hadn’t pressed against a hard-on in way too long, but she remembered how it felt, and this was in its own class.
    “Cody,” she got out, a feeble protest that sounded more like a give-it-to-me moan.
    “Julie,” he growled, buried in her hair. “You smell so fucking good. I could eat you up.”
    It hit her veins like straight whiskey. She wriggled and squirmed, not fighting him, but trying to get closer. Every cell, every sinew, even her bones and her breath, all of her strained toward him, begging him, begging him.
    He answered with a moan, cupped her ass in his hand. She rose up on her toes, raked her nails down his back.
    Then a throat cleared loudly. “Would you like lunch?” an amused female voice asked. “Or would you rather get a room?”
    Shocked back to her senses, Julie shoved against Cody’s chest. He let her go in his own sweet time. Asked her the same question with his eyes.
    “Lunch,” she answered both of them. She smoothed her skirt. “By the fire, if it’s going.”
    In the cozy bar, the hostess waved a hand toward a loveseat by the hearth. In the brick fireplace, flames crackled invitingly. “Silent Night” played through the speakers over the bar, the Irish Rovers giving it a Celtic twist. The red-haired waitress swung by, and Julie asked for hot tea and a scone. Cody ordered two grilled cheese sandwiches, a double salad, and banana cream pie.
    “And bring me a hot coffee with that,” he added, smiling all over the poor girl. When she tottered away glassy-eyed, Julie made a face.
    “What?” Cody said. “What’d I do?”
    “Oh please. Like you don’t know.”
    “Seriously, enlighten me.”
    “You smiled at her.”
    “Well hell, lock me up.”
    “You should be locked up. Better still, you should have to go through one day without being able to smile, just to see how the rest of the world lives.”
    “Admit it, honey. You’d miss it more than I would.”
    She rolled her eyes, then made a point of ignoring him as she