Page 76 of Catching the Mistletoe

“Well, it’s got nothing to do with that.”

“What is it, then?”

“Back in the day, me and Noah used to find hedgehogs in the fields, roll them up and kick ‘em around like footballs.”

I spun around so fast, water sloshed over the edge of the tub. “You did not! Noah would never...” My eyes narrowed. “And neither would you.”

He tapped my nose, the laughing light in his eyes making me melt. “No, of course not. I just like them and yeah, maybe it is a bit like what you said. If they don’t want someone to touch them, they’re perfectly armored to stop them.”

“I get how that would appeal to you.” I kissed him again and instead of turning around so he could spoon me, I snuggled into him, resting my head on his shoulder, trailing my fingers lightly across his chest. Man, did I love the hard muscle rippling under my hand? Fuck yes, I did. I squinted, because there was one more tattoo, very small, right under my hand. “Oh, this one is also cute.”

Tension slammed into Mack, making me frown. What the fuck? Tilting my head, I tried to make sense of what I was seeing, and why it had Mack’s body bunching as though he were poised for flight. Once I realized, I went completely still and all the air left my lungs. I swallowed heavily, hoping my voice sounded normal when I said, “It’s a bird, right?”

I shot him a quick look, caught his brief nod, and looked away again. “So, representing freedom, or like, flying away from your past. Stuff like that.” It wasn’t a question, and he didn’t answer it. Now the silence between us felt heavy and uncomfortable. Finally, gathering my courage enough to look at him again, I found that perfectly neutral gaze and had a moment of panic, because it almost looked like a fade out.

Then, without a word, he cupped the back of my head and pulled me close, kissing me deeply, hungrily, distractedly. I knew what he was doing, and I let him do it, because I was too overwhelmed and freaking out a bit. Because I wasn’t a hundred percent sure, but I didn’t think that it was just any bird tattooed right next to his heart. That looked like a dove. And the ink was much newer than all his other tattoos.

He ran his hands over my body, cupping my ass, sliding back up to palm my breasts, his thumbs brushing my nipples, sending sparks shooting straight to my core. Moaning, I leaned into his touch, my skin prickling, my breath coming quicker.

“Kiss me harder.” I wanted to drown out all the confusing, overwhelming feelings spinning around inside me like a tornado.

He did, his lips firm and warm, his tongue sweeping into my mouth, tangling with mine. Mack’s kiss was hot and demanding and I was swept up, carried away, his taste and scent and his strong, capable hands driving me wild.

Suddenly, Mack was easing lower, the water level rising, the bubbles cascading. Before I could ask, he was grabbing my hips, lifting and manhandling me where he wanted me.

Holy hell, he was strong. Lifting me out of the water like I weighed nothing, positioning me so I was straddling his face. I didn’t dare move, didn’t dare speak, my brain firing a million thoughts and questions, none of them cohesive or understandable.

He flicked my clit with his tongue, his stubble scraping, and all the crazy thoughts scattered, blown away like leaves. Pressing my hands against the wall for balance, I lowered my hips, resting my weight on my knees on the tub’s edge, not wanting to hurt him. Not that he would have noticed, the way he was lapping at my clit, sucking and nipping, his fingers digging into my thighs.

“More. Harder.”

Christ, the way he was devouring me, his moans vibrating through me, had pleasure rocketing through me, centring in my clit, radiating outward, leaving me trembling, desperate and hungry.

“Give me more.”

In answer, he slid his middle finger, and his ring finger, slowly, carefully, easing into me. His fingers crooked, hitting the perfect spot. His tongue and his lips and his suction had stars exploding behind my eyes and a scream ripping from my throat.

But he didn’t ease up, not for a second, his fingers pumping, his mouth and his tongue relentless, his groans and gasps muffled. I was shaking, my fingers scrabbling for purchase, my orgasm threatening, hovering just out of reach.

“Please, please.”

“Yeah.”

“Make me come, Mack.”

His only answer was to pump his fingers faster, flick his tongue faster, and that was enough. The storm broke. My climax thundered through me, my vision greying, the air rasping in my lungs. He didn’t stop until I was quivering, boneless, like a rag doll.

When I was done, a sob ripped from my chest and tears were leaking from the corners of my eyes. Mack eased his fingers out, his tongue gentling, before releasing me, easing me back down into the tub, holding me against his chest.

“Water’s cold,” I mumbled when I finally caught my breath. In one smooth movement, Mack stood and stepped out of the tub, carrying me like I weighed nothing, out of the bathroom. Dropping me on the bed, he covered my body with his own, the cool sheets chilly against my damp skin. Mack was hot though, his skin damp, his muscles bunching, his cock rubbing against me. His intensity was a brand on my skin, sending liquid fire through my system. I was hungry, desperate, so I wrapped my legs around his waist, dug my fingers into his ass and said, “Fuck me as hard as you want.”

His eyes flashed, his jaw clenched as he strained against his need to let go.

I was fucking sick of the restraint, of the holding back. “Give it to me! Unless you’re too fucking scared.”

With that, he gripped my hips, notched his cock at my entrance and, with his eyes burning into mine, shoved inside me.

“Yesssss...”

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