The Second Chapter – Serendipity 7C
I posted the FIRST chapter of this little Christmas tale over on the Down Under Divas’ blog. Click here to read it before reading this one 
Chapter Two
Holly. The name slipped into his ear like a warm wisp of breath. A tingle rippled down his spine and his balls grew tight. He grinned back, and before he knew it, he’d taken her hand into his own. “Jack.”
Her palm felt like soft velvet against his, the innocent and yet somehow provocative contact sending his pulse into overdrive. He gazed into her eyes, unable to look away. They were so light they seemed to shimmer with a silvery glow. Almost hypnotic. Unusual. Unlike any he’d seen before.
Holly stared back at him, still holding his hand before, with a little tug on his fingers and a slight twist at the hip, she turned, indicating he should enter her apartment.
Without breaking eye contact, Jack did just that, the warmth of 7C wrapping around him instantly the second he crossed the threshold.
“Just place your bag anywhere,” Holly said, slipping her fingers free of his hold as she closed the door behind them. She walked past him, and for the first time Jack noticed she smelled like vanilla ice cream. Vanilla ice cream with a pinch of cinnamon. He pulled in a deep breath, the scent making his mouth water and his cock twitch.
Easy, easy. He growled the silent command to his hormones and his stomach. Fifteen minutes. That was all. Long enough for a cup of coffee, if she offered him one. At least long enough to call a cab to take him to a hotel. Maybe Holly could recommend one.
“Would you like a beer?”
Her voice floated to him from somewhere in the apartment, and Jack blinked, realizing he’d been standing on the spot fantasizing about how goddamn delicious she was. He scrubbed at his face with his hands. He really must be jet-lagged. He shot his watch a quick look, the timepiece still set to Sydney time. Two p.m. tomorrow. No wonder he was a bit loopy. He hadn’t slept for almost two days. He was far from everything he knew and sleep deprived.
“Was that a yes to the beer?”
Holly’s voice jerked him out of his fugue. Again. “Yes,” he called back, directing his voice to what he guessed might be the kitchen. “Thank you.”
He heard a chink of glass, a soft little pfisst, and another, before Holly emerged from a side opening with two bottles of beer in one hand and what looked like a bowl of crisps in the other. She walked toward him, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t ignore the gentle, graceful sway of her hips. Hot eager blood pumped into his cock and he ground back a curse. Ah, shit, he was in trouble here.
“Here you go.” Holly handed him a beer, the sides of her eyes crinkling with laughter. “It’s not Fosters, I’m afraid, but at least it’s not Millers either.”
Jack laughed, taking in the yellow label on the bottle. Shiner Bock. “That’s okay. Real Aussies don’t drink Fosters.”
Holly cocked an eyebrow at him, her lips curling as she chinked the neck of her bottle to his. “To real Aussies,” she murmured, lifting the beer to her lips and taking a mouthful. One. Two. Three.
Jack watched her throat work as she swallowed the amber liquid, his blood growing hotter with every mouthful she took, his cock growing harder. Her neck was long, swanlike. Her skin smooth and golden and absolutely flawless. He wondered what it would be like to touch? To feel under his lips? Would it be like silk, or satin? Would she taste like she smelled like his favorite dessert on a scorching summer’s day? Would she –
“Not cold enough?”
Jack blinked. “Huh?”
“Your beer.” Holly smiled at him. “Not cold enough? I’ve heard you real Aussies like your beer icy cold.”
Jesus, Jack. Get your head out of your pants, will you.
“Want to have a shower?”
Jack dropped his beer. The glass bottle shattered at his feet, splashing his jeans and Holly’s floor with cold beer. “Fuck!” he burst out. “Bloody hell, I’m sorry.”
She shook her head, her gray eyes shimmering silver again as she laughed. “Don’t apologize. I know what long-haul flights can do to a person.” Pulling open a cupboard, she withdrew a roll of paper towel and a dustpan and brush. “Go have a shower while I’ll clean this up. It’ll make you feel much better, and then we can have a conversation and I won’t have to worry about you wrecking the rest of my home. Yes?”
Feeling like an idiot, Jack nodded. A shower, a cold shower was definitely what he needed right now. He needed to get these extremely carnal thoughts about his Good Samaritan host out of his head. Scooping up his backpack in which, thankfully, was a clean pair of boxers and small toiletry bag, he gave Holly an apologetic look.
“It’s okay. Really,” she said, nodding to the hallway to her right. “Now shoo. Second door on the left. Watch out for the faucet. It’s a bit wonky.”
He’d stripped off and was in the shower cubicle, cool-ish water streaming over his body before he realized he hadn’t locked the door, nor located a towel. “Bloody hell.”
All right, Jack. Time to take a reality check. Holly’s not going to come in here and I’m sure there’s a towel hanging on a towel rack within reaching distance. Sticking his head out past the shower curtain, he spotted a thick, fluffy white towel edged with embroidered tiny red berries hanging beside the vanity. See? He slipped back under the water. Towel. Now stop being a moron and enjoy your shower.
He closed his eyes and bent his head forward, letting the invigorating water pour over his head. It felt good. Helped clear his head of the craziness. As soon as he finished, he’d thank Holly for her kindness and find his cousin.
An image of apartment 7C’s occupant filled Jack’s head and, before he could stop it, a groan of appreciation rumbled in his throat. His cock, already semi-erect, twitched, growing thick and long with hot, new blood.
Jack ground his teeth together. Stop it, Jack. Get your head out of the gutter.
But his head wouldn’t listen, and neither would his body. His balls swelled tight with base desire, his breath grew quick. The image of Holly smiling, her grey eyes twinkling with that cheeky merriment he already found intoxicating as she reached for him, her long, slender fingers brushing his jaw, his chest, his stomach, his –
Jesus, Jack. Stop it!
He snapped upright, fumbling for the faucet. Cold water. He needed cold water. A lot of it.
His hands connected with the shower’s unfamiliar tap in a hasty, entirely desperate blow and a violent surge of water struck Jack’s chest. Scalding hot water.
“Bloody hell!” he yelped, leaping backward. His heel skidded on the soapy water beneath his feet and he tumbled, his head smacking the tile wall behind him. “Shit!” he shouted, flailing his left arm about as he grabbed for the back of his head with his right.
And snared the shower curtain instead.
There was a sharp tearing sound, a rapid series of pops, and suddenly the wet plastic sheet came free of the shower rod, tangling around Jack’s arm to throw him completely and totally off balance.
He came down with a crash and a shouted “fuck!” — pain exploding in his head and over his skin as his skull whacked the ceramic tiles and the hot water splashed his naked body.
“Damn it.” Scrambling to his feet, embarrassed frustration making his gut twist, Jack reached for the faucet.
“Are you okay, Jack?”
Holly’s voice made him freeze. He turned his head, watching the bathroom door open. Staring in stunned dismay — and illicit excitement — as Holly stepped into the steam-fogged room.
“Oh.” The soft little nonsensical sound fell from her lips as her gaze fell on him, standing naked, dripping wet and completely exposed by the absence of the now crumpled shower curtain at his feet. She studied him from the doorway. A long, slow and very thorough inspection that finished somewhere south of his naval. Her white, even teeth pulled on her bottom lip and, to his absolute horror, Jack’s body reacted to the simple action.
His cock grew hard. Long. Erect.
Standing frozen in the cubicle, he stared at Holly’s face. “I’m not doing a very good job representing my country, am I?”
Slowly lifting her gaze from his burgeoning erection, Holly smiled. “Oh, I think you are doing a fine job.”
She stepped into the room, crossing the tiled floor on silent, bare feet, her long slender fingers dropping to the buttons of her fly. “A very fine job,” she murmured, releasing the top button, the second, the third.
Jack’s pulse detonated. Unable to move, he watched her undo the last button of her fly and slide her jeans down over her hips, past her thighs. The soft, worn denim pooled at her feet on the bathroom floor, revealing legs just as long as he’d imagined and a skimpy pair of white cotton knickers that made his mouth dry and his balls ache.
He jerked his gaze up to Holly’s face and found her gray eyes smoldering with desire. Without a word, she reached for the tap and stepped into the shower cubicle.
Two things happened immediately. The water’s temperature lowered to a pleasant warmth and Holly’s white T-shirt and knickers became a semi-transparent second skin. Plastered to her exquisite body. Molded to the curve of her hips, her rib cage, the toned flatness of her belly, the upward thrust of her breasts.
Jack swallowed. God, she wasn’t just gorgeous. She was a goddess.
A goddess offering herself to him. A wet, clumsy, lost Australian with a broken heart and a missing cousin.
A moan rumbled in his chest and he raised his gaze to meet hers.
Just in time to watch her step toward him, tangle her fingers in his stringy, damp hair and pull his head down to hers.
***
Now I’m going to be very very horrible.
Leave a comment here about your favourite Christmas surprise. In 24 hours time, FOUR people will receive a free copy of the WHOLE Serendipity 7C.
If you can’t wait 24 hours to see what happens next, you can head on over to Changeling Press and check out Gingersnaps: Serendipity 7C
(See, how’s that for being horrible? I suck you in and then BAM! Sorry ’bout that.)
