His Big Package (Mistletoe Montana, 4) Read online

  My heart stopped in my chest again, then promptly restarted. Over and over again, it did this the longer we held each other’s stare. I couldn’t tear my focus from her, and it seemed like she couldn’t either.

  That pinkness on her cheeks darkened, and she lifted her hand to tuck a strand of dark hair behind her ear. I noticed she wore little earrings, pearls that made her seem even more delicate. Her skin was luminescent, pale like porcelain, seeming just as smooth as well. My fingers curled into my palms, the need to see how soft her flesh was riding me hard.

  A young man started walking in front of me, and as if on instinct, I reached out and grabbed his arm, halting him. He stiffened and looked at me, this scowl on his face before he had to crane his head back to look into my face. The color blanched from his expression, and he swallowed.

  “Who is that?” I growled, not giving a shit how territorial I sounded. I tipped my chin toward the woman in red.

  He glanced over his shoulder at her in reference.

  She now ducked her head and all but hauled ass into the dressing room, closing the door behind her and making a low growl leave me. I didn’t want her away from me, didn’t want anything between us, not a person, not resistance, and sure as fuck not a door.

  When he didn’t answer me right away, I loosened my hold on his arm before letting go totally. I was probably scaring the shit out of him.

  “That’s Blythe Ander. Wellsie’s sister,” he murmured quickly, then hightailed it away from me.

  Blythe.

  God, her name was like heavenly bells in my fucking ears. My body grew tighter, harder, and my skin tingled. If I had this kind of reaction to just the way she looked across a crowded room, to the sound of her name ringing in my head, then what would it be like to have her under me, naked, writhing, straining and gasping as I gave her every single inch of my body?

  I physically shook.

  I may have lost my damn mind, but I knew one thing for certain. She was the woman I’d been waiting for my entire life, and I was going to do everything to ensure I made her mine.

  3

  Blythe

  I leaned against the closed door, my palms flat behind me on the cold wood, my heart racing, my breathing frantic. My stomach was hollowing from the force of my respirations, but there was no way I could control myself.

  And it was all because some man had caught my eye across the room, his focus so intently on me that there was no doubt he’d been watching me for an extended amount of time.

  I had no idea why I was having this kind of reaction. It had been so sudden, so instantaneous, that it had sucked the breath right from my lungs and refused to let me move. And so I’d been rooted to the spot, staring at the stranger across the room, taking in his mammoth size, and the fact that he towered above everyone else. Even now, I thought about his physical presence and felt a chill of awareness move through me.

  His shoulders had been defined and wide, his chest so very broad, and his biceps had bulged under his jacket. He was, in one word, masculine. So very masculine and potent that my brain had somehow short circuited. And although I knew nothing about him, my body and mind didn’t care.

  My reaction had been strictly physical; there was no denying that. This tingling at the base of my spine, the tightening of my muscles, the way my heart sped up, and how my palms started to sweat... he turned me on.

  I felt like I’d been dropped into a pot of boiling water, but the strange thing was… I had no problem with being boiled alive, not if the man on the other side of this door was the cause of it.

  I closed my eyes and smoothed my hands over the ridiculous costume I wore. I was embarrassed to admit I was wet. God, I was wet between my thighs.

  The whole reason I’d gone out there was to tell Wellsie I was not about to wear the outfit. Not only was it outdated as hell, but it was clear the previous owner had been half my size. The hem of the bottom nearly showed my crotch and ass cheeks, and the bodice was dipped so obscenely low that one small wardrobe malfunction and you’d see nipple action.

  And my damn sister had barely been able to suppress her amusement as she took me in. How she or Molly thought this thing would fit me was beyond me and ridiculous. I was modest by nature, but putting this thing on when I’d be surrounded by children and families?

  No. I felt indecent, as if what I was selling wasn’t holiday cheer and giving away free candy canes, but instead trying to sell off my tits and ass.

  But there was no time for anything else, no time to try to scrounge up another costume, or have Molly tack on some extra fabric. So the solution was to slap on some tights, ones that were thick enough they were more like pants than anything else. I’d also wear a shirt underneath so at least it covered up my tits, and maybe I’d add a thick scarf to hide how tight the outfit was.

  Big hands, strong thighs. And no doubt a huge....

  God, the way that man looked at me, his eyes raking me up and down. I shivered, not sure why my thoughts instantly went from the outfit to the stranger.

  Who was he?

  Although I lived in Mistletoe my entire life, it wasn’t like I knew every single resident. I kept to myself, my days filled with working at the library, or volunteering at the florist shop, where they’d put together bouquets that were delivered to the local nursing home. I had maybe a couple of friends, but they were not in town anymore, still in college working on their graduate education.

  I breathed out and told myself to get my shit together, to get out of this ridiculous costume and head back out there. I had a shift at the library, and right now, the last thing I wanted to do was let my libido take control. Not that I’d ever had it do that in my entire life. Heck, I’d never really felt attraction for anyone, never needed to give myself over to a man.

  Until him.

  At twenty-one, I was perfectly content to be classified as a prude. I also had no problem being a virgin. I’d only ever been sloppy kissed once in high school, which had been just as awkward and disgusting as it sounded. I guess it left such a gross taste in my mouth— figuratively and literally—I had never wanted to try it again.

  So yeah, I was inexperienced in all that. But the way he looked at me made me want to be so experienced... with him.

  Just a look from him had set fire to my skin, had my flesh tightening, and had goose bumps forming all over my arms and legs.

  I looked down, and yup, sure enough, my nipples were obscenely poking through the red velvet of the outfit. I groaned internally and made quick work of changing, hanging it back up on the rack, and then smoothing my hands down my clothes.

  And the whole time my heart was racing as I pictured opening that door and Mr. Oh So Sexy standing on the other side... waiting for me.

  God, I was certifiably insane.

  I stood by the door for a moment, breathing hard, afraid to open it, because my brain would short circuit again and my body would do something I wasn’t familiar with. But that’s not the only reason I was scared. A part of me worried he’d be gone. The very thought of not knowing who he was, of not learning more about him... of not being close with him, left this strange feeling in my body. It was a sensation I didn’t care for one bit.

  I opened the door, and I swore my heart froze, and I held my breath as I looked in the spot he’d been standing before I all but ran away. Disappointment filled me, as the area was empty. No big, burly lumberjack-looking guy taking up residence anymore.

  I spied Wellsie off to the side, and for a second, the massive man she was with had my heart jackhammering in my chest. But I realized it was just Beau Hollis, owner of Beau’s Bakery in town. Now that business I was very familiar with. Who wouldn’t be intimate with all those deliciously sugary sweet and decadent baked goods?

  I was about to continue my search, when I felt my brows lower as I stared at Beau. My sister was talking to someone, but the baker’s focus was on my sister and my sister alone. He was… entranced by her. And Wellsie was clearly oblivious to the way the man wat
ched her. Hell, I could feel his attraction with Wellsie all the way from here.

  I shook my head. That was another story to tell, and not something I was going to worry about.

  Besides, Beau most definitely wasn’t the man on my mind. I swung my head in the opposite direction; I had no shame as I sought the stranger out.

  But my eyes didn’t take in the crowd that filled the room in Morton’s. No, right in my line of vision was a very wide and broad masculine chest. My throat tightened as I craned my head back to be able to look into the face of the owner of said chest. And boy did I have to tilt back. His body went on and on and on.

  And then I was staring into a set of dark-green eyes. My breath caught as I really saw the man right in front of me. The male prowess that surrounded him was enough to have the oxygen leaving any female.

  Involuntarily, I took a step back as if my body knew I needed to tread carefully, knowing that being this close to him was having effects on me in more ways than one. My pulse had increased. My nipples tingled and hardened, and my pussy… my pussy was wetter than the fucking Pacific Ocean.

  We said nothing to each other, but the way we stared at each other was intense and spoke volumes without a single word being uttered.

  His hair was dark and short, the strands a little bit disheveled on top of his head, as if he ran his fingers through it. And all I saw was him, with the sheer size of him blocking out everything else.

  I licked my lips, this anticipation and excitement moving through me. I’d wanted to lay eyes on him again; at the very prospect that I wouldn’t, disappointment and an almost painful sensation had filled me.

  But here he was, standing just a few feet from me, and my mouth wouldn’t work. Hell, my brain wasn’t even functioning at the moment.

  “Blythe.” The way he said my name was sure and confident. Although I didn’t know this man, he clearly knew me.

  I nodded slowly, my hands working up and down my denim-clad thighs. “Do I know you?” My voice was soft and low, but there was no mistaking the heated quality to it. And if I heard it, surely he could as well.

  “Not yet, you don’t,” he said with such a purpose that my heart skipped a beat in my chest. “But you will.”

  The amount of certainty in his voice could have been considered arrogant, but not the cocky kind. It was the kind that told me this man was used to getting what he wanted. And he got what he wanted by working hard for it.

  “Is that right?” I’d meant to have a sassy tone, but the words came out all breathy, my statement threading through the air between us.

  The corner of his mouth kicked up ever-so-slowly as if he’d heard... the what? Heat? Desire? Longing in those words?

  I could have melted right into the floor from the look he gave me. A man shouldn’t be that damn attractive.

  “It’s a fact.”

  A tingle raced through me, and I told myself not to visibly shake.

  “Seeing as I’m playing Santa, and I hear you’ll be my Mrs. Claus.”

  My Mrs. Claus.

  Why the hell did that make me all tingly... down there?

  I opened my mouth, but I honestly didn’t know what I could say in response to that. A beat of silence passed as all sorts of things bounced through my head, all of which would most certainly not be uttered out loud to this stranger.

  “I’d be happy to be your Mrs. Claus.”

  “Can I sit on your lap when it’s all said and done?”

  “Want to come down my chimney and give me some of that holiday spirit?”

  Oh my God, my thoughts were running wild.

  “Oh good, you met Logan.”

  I forced my head to the side and saw Wellsie standing beside me. When the hell did she arrive? I’d been so transfixed by Mr. Tall and Sexy that everything else had just faded away.

  “Saves me the trouble of introductions.”

  I glanced at Logan and saw he stared at me. Intently. A flutter moved through me. I never thought I could hold a man’s attention so raptly, especially not around Wellsie. She was gorgeous, where I was... plain.

  Although she didn’t date and kept to herself, wherever we went, she drew attention as if she were this warm light, and everyone wanted to be close to her. Men were always staring at her, even if she was totally oblivious to the fact.

  Case in point—Beau, who, as I saw him across the room, had his eyes locked on my sister at this very moment.

  “Logan has been making the flyers for the event for the last few years. He owns his own printing company, Marsh Printing…”

  I was vaguely aware of Wellsie talking, but I wasn’t paying attention, not when a set of deep-green eyes held me mesmerized.

  “That sound good to you guys?”

  I blinked a few times and looked at my sister. “What?”

  She lifted a brow at me then glanced at Logan, this almost knowing smile playing across her lips.

  “That works fine,” Logan said, but he still watched me. As he held his gaze with mine, he rattled off apparently everything my sister said, not missing a beat.

  God, his voice was deep as hell with this slight gruffness to it, this huskiness that had me clenching my thighs together.

  “Yeah, that all sounds good.” I honestly had no idea what Wellsie was saying, as I hadn’t heard a damn thing, but I was winging it.

  Wellsie was pulled in another direction, and then it was Logan and me all alone again—well, as alone as we could be in a roomful of people. Which strangely enough felt pretty damn intimate.

  “Logan Marsh,” he said in that grumbly voice of his.

  He held his hand out, and it was like my body was on autopilot as I lifted my hand and let him envelop it with his own.

  Good God, his palm was massive, mine so much smaller than his, like a little doll hand encased in his warm, very male one. I felt callouses, knew for some reason it was because this man did manual labor.

  “Blythe Ander,” I whispered then cleared my throat and straightened my spine. I had no doubt he could tell how he affected me. I certainly felt like my face was red as hell from the intensity I felt around him. This must be what it was like to be in the center of the sun.

  And the sound he made after I spoke couldn’t be called anything but a growl of approval. I felt my eyes flare at that noise. It seemed very… primal.

  “Logan, we are ready for you to try on the suit,” Wellsie called across the room, and I realized he still held onto my hand.

  I glanced down at the area we were joined, and a spike of something very warm and nice filled me as I watched him move his thumb over the back of my hand.

  Back and forth.

  Slow and… sensual.

  I was the one to pull away, and I wondered if I hadn’t how long he would have held me.

  “I’ll see you, Blythe. Soon.”

  My heart kicked into overdrive at that, but I said nothing. I couldn’t respond. And then he was giving me a smirk before he turned and headed to where he was needed. And like a sex-starved, drooling fool, I stood there and watched him prowl over. I didn’t miss how people instinctively moved out of his way. How couldn’t they? The guy was built like a damn tank.

  And to make matters worse, I found myself lifting the hand he’d held, placing it over my heart, and willing myself to try to calm down. And before I could gather any kind of composure, Logan glanced over his shoulder and stared at me right in the eye before winking.

  I was dead—good and dead and ready to be buried.

  4

  Logan

  It had been far too many days since I’d seen the woman that would be mine.

  Blythe.

  God, just thinking her name had my cock punching forward and the need to be with her riding me hard.

  And here I was, pining after a woman who didn’t know me but soon would in every single fucking way.

  I messed with the Santa outfit, feeling confined. The damn thing was a 3XL to fit my big body, but shit, it was still too tight over me. I looke
d at myself in the mirror and thought I looked so damn ridiculous.

  Fake white beard on. Check.

  Stuffing under the velvet red jacket and around my midsection so I looked like the fat fuck. Check.

  Red hat with white pom pom on the end, black patent leather belt around my midsection, and shiny faux leather boots on my feet? Triple fucking check.

  I looked stupid as hell, but it would make some kids happy, and wasn’t that what this whole shindig was about? Besides, I told myself that as soon as this was all said and done, I was going to go after Blythe.

  I’d kept my distance, giving her space, knowing I’d see her at the event—today. There was no deviating from my plan; I’d ask her to dinner, get to know every little thing about her, then make her mine in every primal, physical way I could.

  As soon as I stepped into Morton’s, I zeroed in on her. And I hadn’t stopped staring at Blythe until I’d been forced to go change. I knew she felt my gaze. Hell, I wasn’t trying to hide it. It was better she see—feel—how much I wanted her. What was the point of trying to hide it?

  I said fuck the cost and headed out, searching her out again and again and again. She wasn’t in the room, so I snapped my head in the direction of the only other door in the room. It was closed, and a low growl left me at the thought of her in that room, locked away from me as she changed. I started to stiffen, a massive erection making itself known.

  Not right now, fucker.

  I had a semblance of self-control. It wasn’t much, not when it concerned Blythe, but I had to get my shit together and get through tonight. After that, if the fucking third leg hanging between my thighs wanted to stand and salute her, so be it.

  And then my thoughts went to the gutter. Images of her on her back in the center of my bed, her hair fanned out on the white sheets, the dark strands standing out in contrast. I’d just stand there and look my fill, taking in every single inch of her. I wondered how her breasts would feel in my palms. How tight would her nipples get for my mouth?