couch.”
Did she want him to stay? Part of her wanted it desperately, but she also didn’t want to seem too needy, too clingy. She didn’t want to be that pathetic, useless woman like she’d been when married to Blake. So she shook her head. “I’m okay. I have Donner here. I’ll just push the couch in front of the door and if he tries anything, I’ll call you.”
“If you’re sure. I don’t mind staying. It’s a completely platonic offer.” He kissed the tip of her nose again, his expression tender.
It made her melt, but it also made her that much more determined to handle it on her own. Hadn’t she already leaned on him far too much? “It’s okay, really.”
“All right, then.” Caleb looked as if he didn’t quite agree with her choice, but he wasn’t going to fight her on it. “Want to see me out?”
She nodded, and it was hard to stand up with her legs as wobbly as a colt’s after that orgasm. How was it he could recover and seem so normal, while she felt as if she’d been pieced back together with string and bubble gum? Good lord. She felt wrecked—a good kind of wrecked, but still wrecked. Amy trailed at his side as he put his hat on again and gave Donner a quick goodbye rub—and she remembered how he’d licked his fingers after teasing her to a climax—and then he kissed her again. Hard. Possessive. Achingly wonderful.
“Almost forgot to give you your note today,” he murmured, and handed her the envelope.
She clutched it like it was a precious gift and watched from the doorway as he headed down the porch and toward his truck. Once he left, she shut and locked the door, slid the love seat in front of the doorframe, and then collapsed on the cushions to read her note.
Amy,
I had a great time tonight. I know I’m writing this hours before I even get to see you, but it doesn’t matter. I know I’m going to have a great time tonight. Just being with you is the best thing to happen to me, so there’s no “bad time” when you’re around. I get to look at your pretty smile and hear your voice. I get to talk to you. I get to be around you. Nothing about any of that could be a “bad time.” Anyone who says otherwise needs a punch to the face.
That includes Greg.
I’ve run out of things to say and I still have too much paper to write on. I guess I’ll tell you a bit more history trivia. Did you know that the Christmas tradition of mistletoe originated because mistletoe was considered a fertility drug? It’s another pagan ritual. Just between you and me, those pagans sounded like party animals.
I like the idea of a kissing ritual, though. Mostly I just like the idea of kissing you more.
Yours,
Caleb
She clutched the note to her chest and sighed. How was it that he could make each note funny and yet utterly romantic at the same time? She was going to be seduced by these notes by the end of the week . . . or less, given what had happened tonight. One more mention of fertility festivals and she’d be flinging her panties at him. He’d spend the night . . . and it wouldn’t be on the love seat; that was for darn sure.
Were they moving fast? Absolutely. But she was an adult, a grown, divorced woman. She could do what she wanted, and tonight, she’d wanted to touch Caleb and give him pleasure.
She had no regrets.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The rest of the week passed in a holiday blur. On Tuesday, he took her out sledding. They didn’t have actual sleds, but Caleb had assured her that a large cardboard box would be just as effective. She hadn’t believed him . . . until she’d rocketed down her first snowy hill and nearly crashed into a tree. It had been utterly exhilarating, and they’d raced up and down the hill like children until their sleds turned to wet, destroyed mush.
After that, they’d retreated to her house for hot cocoa and a steamy makeout session.
On Wednesday, he took her out to dinner in one of the neighboring towns and insisted on paying. It had felt like a date more than a Christmas tradition, but she didn’t mind. She liked dating him. Thursday, he arrived at her house with sticks, charcoal, and carrots, and they made snowmen in her