Free The Christmas Cookie Chronicles: Carrie by Lori Wilde Page A

the only way to fly.”
    “Buckle your seatbelt, Hotshot.” She giggled again and he could feel the sound roll from her into him. Her joy was his joy. “I’m in control now.”
    “Oh, yeah?” He reached up a hand, ran his fingers over her smiling lips.
    “Yeah.” She moved upward.
    He grabbed her around the waist, held her in place, his erection swelling inside of her. “Sure about that?”
    “Hey, you’re depriving yourself as much as you’re depriving me by calling a halt to the pump action.”
    “Good point.” He chuckled and let go of her.
    “Hmm,” she murmured, an expression of pure feel-good pleasure crossing her face. God he loved seeing her like this, sassy, willing, gleeful.
    She quickened the tempo of her movements, and soon enough they were rocketing to a whole new sphere of sensation.
    Hot and heavy, they flew through the storm of unquenchable desire and finally hit the clouds together. Slowly, they drifted down, arms and legs entwined.
    “We weren’t this good before,” she observed in a sleepy voice.
    “Nope.” His eyes were closed, and he was too tired to say much more. She’d wrung him out like the proverbial dishrag.
    “We were just kids. What did we know about sex? You were my first lover.”
    The tone in her voice had him tensing up. He opened one eye, turned his head, looked over at her. “I know,” he said softly. “You were my first too.”
    She was quiet a moment. “Really? You never told me that.”
    “I was embarrassed. Nineteen-year-old virgin. I thought I was expected to have all the moves.”
    “No wonder we were lousy at it.” She laughed.
    “We weren’t lousy. Just quick.”
    “But we’re better now.”
    “Much better,” he agreed. Then his mind crowded with thoughts of why they were better. Years apart. Years with other lovers. His head suddenly hurt. He reached up to massage his temple.
    “Maybe we should get together every eight years and do this again just to see how much more we improve with age,” she said.
    This jolted him. Was she seeing this as nothing more than a one-time thing? Her tone was so lighthearted. Uncommitted.
    Did she honestly not have any idea that he was still in love with her? Even though he’d only recently realized it himself. Maybe she honestly thought this was just scratching a familiar itch. Oh God, what if she wasn’t feeling the same way he was?
    She didn’t say anything for the longest time, and he was starting to panic when she took a deep breath and said, “I sent you a Facebook friend request.”
    “You did? When?”
    “A couple of years ago. You ignored my request.”
    “Carrie, honey, I don’t run my Facebook page. I have an assistant that does my social media.”
    “Oh,” she said. “I thought you didn’t want to be friends.”
    It killed him that she thought that about him. Cut him right in two.
    Downstairs, the front door opened, then slammed shut, followed by the sound of four voices.
    “Crap!” Carrie exclaimed. “The twins and their girlfriends are back. You’ve got to get out of here.”
    “As if your brothers aren’t intent on getting their girlfriends in the sack?” he said, partly relieved that they came home before he had to explain how he’d turned his life over to assistants, agents, and managers. There was time enough for that later.
    She hopped out of bed. “I’m the responsible one in the family.”
    “Since when?” He laughed, delighting in watching her bend over naked and scoop up his clothes from the floor, her gorgeous tits bouncing as she moved.
    “Since you went away.”
    There it was. The accusation he’d been waiting for since he’d come back to Twilight. Their separation had been mutual. Or at least that’s what he’d told himself. It was the only way he could live with having left her. After all, she was the one who told him to go, the first one to voice doubts about their impulsive marriage.
    But only after she learned you got the scholarship.
    She stuffed his