Caroselli's Christmas Baby

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The idea that they were really going to do it, that he was going to kiss her for real, and not his usual peck on the cheek, gave her a funny feeling in her head. Her hands went all warm and tingly, as if all the blood in her body was pooling somewhere south of her heart.

It’s just Nick. She had no reason to be nervous or scared or whatever it was she was feeling. But as her feet carried her around the island to where he stood, her heart was racing.

“Ready?” he asked, and she nodded.

Nick leaned in, but before their lips could meet, a giggle burst up from her chest. Nick drew back, looking exasperated.

“Sorry, I guess I’m a little nervous.” She took a deep breath and blew it out, shaking the feeling back into her fingers. “I’m okay now. I promise not to laugh again.”

“Good, because you’re bruising my fragile ego.”

Somehow she doubted that. She’d never met a man more secure in his prowess with women.

“Okay,” he said. “Are you ready?”

“Ready.”

“Really ready?”

She nodded. “Really ready.”

Nick leaned in, and she met him halfway, and their lips just barely touched.

She couldn’t help it, she giggled again.

Backing away, Nick sighed loudly. “This is not working.”

“I am so sorry,” she said. “I’m really trying.”

Maybe this wasn’t going to work. If she couldn’t feel comfortable kissing him, what would it be like trying to have sex?

“Close your eyes,” he said.

She narrowed them at him instead. “Why?”

“Just close them. And keep them closed.”

Even though she felt stupid, she did as he asked, and for what felt like a full minute he did nothing, and she started to feel impatient. “Any day now.”

“Shush.”

Another thirty seconds or so passed and finally she felt him move closer, felt the whisper of his breath on her cheek, then his lips brushed over hers. This time she didn’t giggle, and she wasn’t so nervous anymore. His lips were soft and his evening stubble felt rough against her chin, but in a sexy way. And though it wasn’t exactly passionate, it wasn’t merely friendly, either.

This is nice, she thought. Nice enough that she wanted to see what came next, and when Nick started to pull away, before he could get too far, she fisted her hands in the front of his shirt and pulled him back in.

He made a sound, somewhere between surprise and pleasure, and he must have forgotten all about their ease-into-it-gradually plan, because it went from nice to holy-cow-can-this-guy-kiss in two seconds flat. He must have been sampling the cake batter earlier, because he tasted sweet, like chocolate.

Oh, my gosh, she was kissing Nick, her best friend. It was Nick’s arms circling her, Nick’s hand cupping her cheek, sliding under the root of her ponytail and cocking her head to just the right angle.

Her internal thermometer shot into the red zone and her bones began a slow melt, dripping away like icicles in the hot sun. And only when she heard Nick moan, when she felt her fingers sink through the softness of his hair, did she realize that her arms were around his shoulders, that her body was pressed against him, her breasts crushed against the hard wall of his chest. It was thrilling and arousing, and scary as hell, and a couple dozen other emotions all jumbled up together. But more than anything, it just felt … right. In a way that no other kiss had before. And all she could think was more.

For the second time Nick was the one to pull away, and she had to fight the urge to tighten her arms around his neck and pull him to her again. But instead of letting go completely, he hooked his fingers in the belt loop of her jeans.

“Wow,” he said, searching her face, almost as if he were seeing her for the first time. “That was …”

“Wow,” she agreed. If she had known kissing Nick would be like that, she might have tried it a long time ago.

“Are you still worried about us being incompatible?” he asked.

“Somehow I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”

“Do you feel weird?”

“Weird?”

“You said before that you were afraid things might get weird between us.”

The only thing she felt right now was turned-on, and ready to kiss him again. “It’s difficult to say after one kiss.”

“Oh, really?” he said, tugging her closer. “Then I guess we’ll just have to do it again.”

Four

Their second kiss was even better than the first, and this time when Nick stopped and asked, “Feeling weird yet?” instead of answering, Terri just pulled him in for number three. And she was so wowed by the fact that it was Nick kissing her, Nick touching her, that she didn’t really think about where he was touching her. Not until his hand slid down over the back pocket of her jeans, then everything came to a screeching halt.

She backed away and looked at him. “Your hand is on my butt.”

“I know. I put it there.” He paused, then said, “Am I moving too fast?”

Was he? Was it too much too soon? Was there some sort of schedule they were supposed to follow? A handbook for friends who become lovers to have a baby? As long as it felt good, as long as they both wanted it, why stop?

And boy, did it feel good.

“No,” she said. “You’re not moving too fast. If you were, would I be thinking how much better it would feel if my jeans were off?”

He made a growly noise deep in his chest and kissed her hard, but despite that shameless invitation into her pants, he kept his hands on the outside of her clothes. And no matter where she touched him, how she rubbed up against him, or encouraged him with little moans of pleasure, he didn’t seem to be getting the hint that she was ready to proceed.

When he did finally slide his hand under her shirt, she felt like pumping her fist in the air, and shouting, “Yes!” But then he just kept it there. It wasn’t that it didn’t feel good resting just above the waist of her jeans, but she was sure it would feel a whole lot better eight inches or so higher and slightly to the left.

She pulled back and said, “If you felt the need to touch my breast, or pretty much any other part of my anatomy, I wouldn’t stop you.”

Looking amused, he said, “It’s not often a woman tells me I’m moving too slow.”

“I could play coy, but what’s the point? We both know we’re going to end up in bed tonight.”

His brows rose. “We do?”

“Can you think of a reason we shouldn’t?”

When most men would have jumped at the offer, he actually took several seconds to think about it. Which for some strange reason made her want it even more. It was crazy to think that on Wednesday she wouldn’t have even considered a physical relationship with him, but two days and a couple kisses later, she couldn’t wait to get him out of his clothes. And if he turned her down, she was going to be seriously unhappy.

After a brief pause he shrugged and said, “Nothing is coming to mind.”

The way she figured it, their friendship had been leading up to this, even if they hadn’t realized it. That equated to about twenty years of foreplay. Technically, no one could say they were rushing things. “So why are we still standing in the kitchen?”