The Wolf Came on Christmas (Johanna and Alexander) novel Chapter 139

“So you don’t drink wine,” I said, referring to dinner.

“I don’t like the taste. When you have a very sensitive tongue like mine, you naturally tend to stay away from spicy, acidic, bitter things… alcohol…” he pointed out the obvious.

I felt warm at the mention of a “very sensitive” tongue. I think he said it on purpose.

“Too bad. Well, I think I’ll serve myself a little more later.”

“…Do you have to get drunk to kiss me?”

I couldn’t help laughing at his falsely innocent tone.

“No, I need to gather a little courage to finish what I started the other day,” I shot back.

“Make me wait five more minutes, and you won’t be the one who has to finish anything, I’ll do all the work,” Alexander replied in a dangerously low and provocative tone.

Well, that time I didn’t laugh. I was much more concerned about holding the glass in my hand and not spilling the red wine on the carpet. It was so unusual (and exciting) to hear him talk like that that I couldn’t contain the wave of adrenaline that ran through me entirely. Again I felt as if the blood in my veins had received an unexpected push, because I felt it pounding in my temples, in my knees, in my knuckles…

In my belly, and even lower.

My silence must have unsettled him, because Alexander added, as if he needed to clarify:

“Are you afraid? I’m not going to hurt you.”

“That’s not it,” I assured him quickly. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“Then what is it, Johanna? It disturbs me not to understand you. This morning we were joking as if nothing, and now…”

“…nose. I’m just nervous.”

He seemed to think about it for a moment, his breathing slower and steadier. Maybe he was scenting me, but I didn’t find it offensive; wasn’t I the one bothering him? Poor thing, he probably didn’t know what to do with me. It wasn’t his fault.

“Is there something I can do to help you relax a little?” he ventured, hesitating.

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Oh, of course there was something I could do. I could do a lot.

“I think so.” I answered, once I reached a decision.

Whether because of the wine or because his whole being was calling to me just by his presence, I surrendered.

Like the previous time, I leaned toward him and blindly sought his mouth. Alexander reacted quickly; I didn’t even notice when he took the glass from my hands and placed it on the small table without separating from me for a second. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me onto his lap. I found the perfect spot perched over his legs, and once again we were one, in an embrace so close that I could feel the furious beats of his heart against my own chest. I thought I would burst with joy in the perfection of that moment.

It was more than ideal to say it:

“I love you, Alexander,” I whispered against his lips.

He carefully pulled away from the embrace, and although I resisted stopping the kisses, he made me look at him. He was smiling, yes, and he tucked my loose hair behind my ears patiently. For a second I feared I had been too impulsive, that I had said something wrong, and my cheeks warmed with embarrassment, but….

“…there’s something I’ve thought since I met you, and it’s that if silver could really harm me, I would have been very afraid of your eyes. Your eyes say everything, all the time. Whenever you look at me, it’s with an intensity that blinds me, disorients me. I once…” he told me, and traced one of my eyebrows slowly with the tip of his finger. “And that blush on your cheeks makes your eyes look even more beautiful, gray like silver. I love you too, Johanna.”

I thought I was going to cry.

That was the most beautiful declaration I had ever heard in my life, although it’s not as if I had heard many. When Paul proposed to me, I remember he was so nervous that I realized what he intended before he said it. Alexander had sounded very sure when he spoke, with that confidence of his that made me shiver again. We didn’t waste time, neither of us; the kiss that followed those words was so intense that it disoriented me. I felt on the edge of a cloud, my feet far from the ground; perhaps I would never have wanted to return to reality if I didn’t have the promise that he would still be there when I came out of that dream.

However, my hands had not lost their compass, nor had his.

My fingers knew well how to find the buttons of his shirt, undoing them one by one quickly. Alexander’s hands crawled softly along the edge of my clothes, searching for the hem and the skin

of beneath. His hands soon slid against my body, chasing the heat; I couldn’t help a purr

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satisfaction escaping me. The rough touch of his palms delighted me. Either he knew how to touch all the right places, or I was far too willing.

“How’s that backside? Still hurting?” he asked after his tongue caressed my neck beneath my jaw.

“Huh?”

Yes, well, I couldn’t gather much coherence at that point. And even less if his hands were touching me exactly where he had mentioned, squeezing gently as if searching for a pressure point that would make me shiver.

He didn’t need to do any of that.

“The fall the other day?” Alexander insisted with a little laugh.

“I’m fine now, don’t worry about that.”

Alexander received my answer with a pleased growl, and his kisses moved up my neck until they found my ear. A shiver of delight ran through me when he bit my ear; the brush of his fangs and lips at the same time undid me. I would have melted in his arms if it weren’t because I wanted him to take off all his clothes almost as much as he wanted to help me get rid of mine. I finished unbuttoning his shirt between kisses and laughter, but I found a navy–blue T–shirt instead of his bare skin.

Though I was disappointed, it wasn’t remotely a problem. A moment later he had already gotten rid of both garments, and I myself tossed them somewhere in the living room.

I allowed myself to do exactly what I had been longing for so much–kiss his neck, his shoulders, touch every inch of his back and trace his skin with my fingertips, feeling his warmth, his firmness. Feeling in my hands the movement of his tense muscles fascinated me. I wanted to kiss him all over, hold him tightly and never let him go. Perhaps my relaxed attitude made him more impatient, because I heard him growl several times in that way that (as I discovered) only encouraged me to keep “teasing” him. I buried my fingers in his hair from the nape upward and lunged again for his mouth to calm him. It was starting to get very hot there again; between my legs and over his lap. But I didn’t want to move away, not even an inch.

I needed to feel him; the anxiety was killing me.

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