Big Man For Christmas

But Casey isn’t. He’s shirtless again, and I get to drink him in. I stare at him, torso ripped with the kind of muscles that only hard work can give you. And I know that Casey works hard. You have to, when you live on a farm. He shoves his pants off his hips, and I can see the tent in his boxers.

God, he’s grown up. And he’s so, so beautiful.

Casey stops short of pulling off his boxers, noticing that I’m still dressed. “Are you okay?”

I don’t know what to tell him. How do I tell him that I’m afraid that I’m not worth looking at? My face flushes, and I look away. He crosses the small distance between us, and I swear I can feel the heat pouring off his skin. So much skin, and I want to touch all of it.

Leaning in, Casey kisses the place where my neck meets my shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“I—” the words lodge in my throat. I don’t know how to do this.

“Do you want me to do it?” He pulls back and smiles. “Can I?”

I nod, biting my lip. Any way that I’m able to have him I want more of him. And if he doesn’t like what he sees, it doesn’t matter. I’ll be back in Chicago in a couple of weeks either way, and all of this will be a distant memory.

He kisses my neck again, drawing his hands down my ribs. “Lift your arms,” he says softly. I do. He peels my shirt up and over my head, and I shiver as the air finally touches my skin, blushing at the fact that I still wore my faded sports bra that I wore to bed.

“Fuck,” he mutters. His hands are on my skin—big hands filled with heat. He drags his mouth across my shoulders, and lowers himself to his knees, kissing my stomach as he goes. “Carley, you don’t know how long I’ve dreamt about kissing your skin.”

My stomach drops, and I close my eyes, flushing with both need and embarrassment. He undoes my belt and tugs my jeans off both of my legs, lips following with kisses to my thighs and all the way down to my shins before he tosses them aside.

Casey’s fingers drag up the back of my legs as he stands, and he leans in and licks my spine. Oh, fuck. He pulls me back against his chest as he raises his hands, massaging my breasts before whispering in my ear. “Lift again.” The sports bra is gone in a matter of seconds, and his hands are on my skin. Goosebumps are everywhere.

“Fucking hell,” he says, walking around me and taking them in his hands. My nipples go hard under his thumbs and he makes a sound of pure need when he leans down and sucks one between his lips. And then the other. Tasting me.

My breath is shallow, and my body is taut. Every sound he’s making is positive, but I can’t help the dread that pools in my stomach, making me think it’s only a matter of time.

Casey circles behind me again, using his fingers to pull my panties down my legs and make me step out of them. I jump when he kisses my ass on one cheek and bites the other. But then he’s in front of me again, looking me up and down with a million degrees of heat in his eyes.

Finally, he drops the last piece of his clothing, and I get to see all of him. Every inch of him is hard, cock standing out straight from his body, proud and stiff. He’s got those gorgeous lines on his hips pointing down to the promised land, and I can’t stop looking at him. He’s perfect. And at the very least I’ll get to have him for one night.

I look at him, and I see his gaze once again travel down my body and back up. My hands tighten into fists, and I fight the urge to cover myself.

The look in his eyes changes, and Casey strides toward me, not stopping until I’m in his arms, plastered against his body, cock hot and hard between us. Slowly, he walks me backward until my legs hit the bed, and he follows me down, keeping his body locked against mine and rolling so he’s partially on me, partially cradling me. I’m completely overwhelmed by the way he’s wrapped around me.

He looks at me hard. “I don’t know who put that look on your face.”

“What look?”

“The one that says that you’re good enough. The one of embarrassment. And shame.”

I go hot all over and suddenly I need to be away from him, but he holds me still. “Carley,” he says, pressing his forehead to mine. “I don’t know if it was your fiancé who made you feel this way, or somebody else. It doesn’t matter. I’m going to tell you this, and you’re going to believe me. Okay?”