Page 61 of Catching the Mistletoe

“Um, Mack.”

I didn’t turn. “Mmm?”

“Could you...um, would you mind helping me with something?”

“Sure. What do you need?”

“My back is really sore from all the sledding and snowball wars, and I wondered if you could work some magic on it.”

“Magic, huh?”

“Uh, huh.”

“Alright. Turn around.”

She turned away from me and I shifted closer, kneading her shoulders, feeling the tension easing from her. Then I moved down her back, finding the sore spots and working on them until Arabella was practically purring. “How’s that?”

“Soooo good.”

I worked on her back for a few more minutes before stopping and turning my attention back to the television. I had to bite back another smile as she huffed out a breath of frustration. She squirmed in the seat, her eyes burning into me as she stared at my profile.

Then she pushed to her feet, moving to stand in front of the television. I leaned to the side, pretending to focus on the screen.

“Mack.” The edge of frustration in her tone caught at me, but I was determined to play this out.

“Mmmm?”

“Can you just look at me for a second?”

Finally, I let my gaze rove over her, drinking her in. “Better?”

She huffed again. “I’m not wearing these pajamas for my health, you know.”

“They look very nice.”

“Nice? Mack, they’re indecent.”

“You look lovely.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I’m trying to seduce you, and you’re just ignoring me.”

“I told you, Arabella, we do this my way.”

“Ugh. Fine.”

I turned back to the tv, biting back a smile when she flopped down next to me again.

“You know, I can just use my vibrator.”

Well, if that hadn’t just upped the stakes to the stratosphere. My eyes snapped to hers. “How about you go do that.” I waited a beat, then finished, “Out here.”

Her throat worked convulsively and her eyes darkened. “Huh?”

“Go get your vibrator, Arabella.”

Without a word, she got up and went to the bedroom, coming back a moment later, her vibrator in her hand, wrapped in a bright pink cloth. She stood in front of the TV, her cheeks pink, her eyes burning into me. “What now?”

“Sit here.” I patted the couch, and she sat, her pulse jumping in her throat. “Tell me something.”

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