Stranded At Christmas

When her flight home is grounded due to snow, Samantha is resigned to spending Christmas alone in a strange city. But an encounter with a sexy bartender becomes more than a connection between two lonely people and may lead her to have an unexpected Christmas present in nine months...

Excerpt:
I ordered another glass of wine, though I was still wishing for something a lot stronger. For different reasons, now.

But it was better to play it safe.

If I got too drunk here, I might do something stupid. Like try to flirt with this beautiful young man, who was just trying to do his job.

He didn’t need some sexually frustrated old lady hitting on him.

Especially not on Christmas.

He bent over the sink on the far side of the bar, rinsing out a glass. I squirmed and had to squeeze my thighs together.

He really did have a fine ass. One I could imagine grabbing and clinging to, while he thrust deep into my…

I shook my head. Maybe I should take this next drink up to my room. I hadn’t brought any of my toys with me on this trip—it was all about business, after all—but at least I could use my fingers and the memory of this bartender’s face and body to make myself cum.

When he cleared my empty glass away to replace it with a full one, his hand brushed mine.

I was certain it had to be an accident or at the most, a bit of light flirtation in hopes of getting a better tip.

I wasn’t prepared for the hunger I saw in his eyes.

A desire for… me.

“Seems a shame that a beautiful lady has to spend Christmas alone.” He glanced at my left hand. Seemed surprised that my finger was bare, with no faint tan lines to indicate that a ring had been removed. Because I’d never worn one there. “Anyone waiting for you back home?”

I shook my head. “No man is willing to put up with how much time I spend on my job.”

“Idiots.”

I shrugged. “It’s just… inconvenient.”

“I still think they’re idiots.”

“You don’t have to say such things.” I gave him a large bill, more than double the price of the drink. “Keep the change.”

“I meant every word.”

If only… I bit my lip and gazed up at him through my lashes.

We were the only ones in the bar. It seems that the entire crowd for the night was concentrated in the restaurants, rather than here, and so the hotel had staffed itself accordingly. I hid my wince as a syrupy-sweet singer began crooning over the sound system, belting out lyrics of longing to be home for Christmas. Just what I didn’t need to hear right now. “I don’t suppose you can change that.”

“The music?”

I nodded.

“I could, but I think every station we have available is programmed to play Christmas carols right now.” A grimace passed over his handsome features, the expression so fleeting, I thought that I might have imagined it. “I’m not really fond of this holiday, either.”

“Because you have to work?” I somehow got the feeling it was more personal than that.

He rested his hands on the bar, once again leaning on it in that particular way that had made my breath catch earlier. But he did not appear to be doing it for effect. Rather, his eyes were distant. Unfocused. As he gazed off toward the far side of the bar. “Last Christmas was…” He seemed to catch himself and shook his head with a rueful smile. “Never mind. I'm sure you don't want to hear my sob story.”

“I would if you need someone to talk to.”

“That's very kind... but I think it would be better for me to focus on the present. Especially when I have such fine company.” He lightly touched my hand again.

Did not draw away, but let his fingers rest against mine.

Such a tiny touch. And yet in this moment, it felt hugely significant. Or maybe I was just feeling this way because of being alone. And this was a small way of connecting with someone. “I'm Samantha, by the way.”

“Nicholas.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to tease him about his name, but I held back. I turned my palm up so that our fingers laced together. “I... I suppose you would get in trouble if I asked you to come up to my room after your shift.”

He inhaled sharply and that hunger was back in his eyes. More intense than before. “Maybe a little.”

“Then I shouldn't.”

“But it would be worth it.” He gave my hand a small squeeze then let go. “Ask me.”

“I'm asking.”

“I won't be done for another five hours.”

Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was the look in his eyes, but whatever it was, it made me feel bolder than usual. “I'm sure you'll be worth the wait.”