Holiday for Two (a duet of Christmas novellas)
make-believe? No, I think it’s all right we indulge our fantasies.” They were in Carrie’s fantasy, but he wouldn’t quibble. He got to see her naked, didn’t he?
    She was still sitting up. “I just realized, I never told you my name back there. At the bar.”
    Griffin tried to recall their earlier dialogue. “So you didn’t. Let’s try again.” He extended his hand. “I’m Griffin Archer from the Hall.”
    “I’m Caroline Moore.” She gave his hand a firm shake. “Carrie to my friends.”
    Griffin turned her palm up and planted a lingering kiss in its center. “I hope to be your very good friend, Carrie. That’s the first kiss of many.”
    “I’ll try to keep count. I’m better at English than I am at math.”
    “I plan to make you incoherent in both subjects.” He went back to his circling maneuver, meeting her eyes as he did so. How simple, yet how effective.
    “You’re pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you,” Carrie said, her voice slightly raspy.
    “You must admit, I’ve had some success with you so far. I have every hope in continuing to do so.” It was not like him to brag, but then nothing about tonight was “like him.”
    And that was a good thing. All work and no play had made Griffin a very dull viscount.
    He was going to forget about his viscountish troubles and the sagging ceilings at Archer Hall. It was Christmas, and he was going to give himself a present.
    He eased Carrie back down on the blanket, stroking her shoulder, kissing her throat. She shivered a little.
    “Cold?” Griffin asked.
    “Not exactly.”
    He trailed his fingers down to one peaked nipple and did some more circling. She made a strangled sound and Griffin knew his success continued.
    “This is two.” He captured her nipple between his lips and tugged.
    “Three,” he said before he switched sides.
    And then he lost track, working his way down to her navel, dipping his tongue inside and causing Carrie to squirm on the blanket. He’d forgotten about the pillows. Too late. He would raise her hips himself and part and lick and plunge and—
    Oh God, she tasted good. She was neatly trimmed, too, which was helpful. Everything about her was neat. Griffin spent a goodly portion of his time coordinating his tongue and fingers until Carrie turned liquid beneath him and screamed.
    It was a nice scream, as screams went, not too shrieky. Her body bucked a bit but Griffin kept at it. Her nails scraped his scalp as she cried for him to stop. No chance of that—she didn’t mean it anyway. Those were very happy tears, he reckoned.
    “Shh. You’ll wake the dog,” he said, after torturing her enough and working his way back up. He nibbled an earlobe and drew a hiss from her.
    “You are—you are—” she gasped.
    A god? The best lover she’d ever had?
    “—a fiend!”
    “Why, thank you, Miss Moore. I’ll take that as a compliment.”
    “I am d-dead,” she stuttered.
    “No, no, we can’t have that. The night is still young.” He wiped the tears from her cheeks and kissed her nose.
    “That was spectacular.”
    He smiled down at her. “Agreed.”
    “W-what about you?”
    What about him? He was only in agony, but not about to complain. “I’m fine. It was a joy to watch you come apart for me.”
    “That’s all you want?” she asked doubtfully.
    He cradled her against him, tucking her hair behind her ear. The warmth of her entranced him, but he resolutely kept his private parts from making contact with her soft skin.
    Gentleman.
    Viscount.
    Fool.
    “For now. How long will you be staying in Lower Topsham?”
    She was silent. Maybe she was tired of playing their game.
    Then she touched his jaw. Who knew jaws were erogenous zones? His five o’clock shadow was suddenly on alert. He thought he could actually feel the bristles vibrate.
    “Till the end of the summer.”
    “There, you see? We have all the time in the world to get to know each other better.”
    “Griffin.” She smoothed a fingertip over his

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