Page 78 of Catching the Mistletoe

The early morning sun splashed over the lake, its glow glancing off the water and spilling into the RV. I squinted a little against the light, my hands flexing on the wheel.

My mind drifted, on its own, to my tattoo again. Was she still thinking about it too? Had she joined the dots? Or did she buy that it was just a bird? I pressed my foot on the gas, as if I could speed away from the thoughts crowding my head. I felt it all as a heavy weight on my chest and as much as I wanted to push past that weight, to try to talk, to bridge the gap between us, I couldn’t seem to do it.

We skirted around Green Bay, still without a word between us. The radio was really starting to piss me off. Jesus, this was bullshit. Here we were, stuck in a tin can, alone and isolated, and we couldn’t figure out how to fix things.

As we ate up the miles, the surrounding scenery changed. The view was suddenly dominated by the glittering expanse of Lake Michigan, its surface a mercurial sheet, reflecting the clouds scudding overhead. Arabella perked up a little, her shoulders relaxing, her smile a little easier.

“Wow, would you look at the view?” she breathed, her eyes trained on the lake.

“Yeah, it’s pretty.”

“Beautiful,” she corrected, and I didn’t know what to say to that, so I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t seem to stop myself from glancing over at her way more often than I should. God, I wanted her. I wanted her and the easy camaraderie, the banter and the sex. But I couldn’t have her. Couldn’t give her the explanation or the reassurance or the comfort she needed. And that killed me, tore a hole in my chest, the guilt and the regret roiling inside me.

“Fuck it,” I heard her mutter, before turning sideways in her seat to face me. Well, she sure as fuck had my full attention right now, the way she was all energized, like she’d made some sort of big decision. “You remember my bucket list?”

“Yeah?” It was all I could do to keep my eyes on the road.

“Well, it turns out there was an item missing.”

“Is that a fact?”

“Mm hmm.”

“You gonna fill me in?” There it was. That light in her eye that told me she was just about to say something outrageous. Even though I knew something was coming, her words still bowled me over.

“Turns out I’ve always wanted to go down on a really hot cowboy.”

Liquid fire flooded my system. “I see. This is sudden onset, I’m guessing?”

“Not that sudden, but the urge has just hit me really hard right now. There’s a bit more to it, though.”

“Tell me.”

“I want to do it while he’s driving a bright red RV, heading toward Chicago.”

Jesus. Fuck. I swallowed heavily, my eyes widening when she clicked her seat belt off and slid from the seat onto her knees. I had to drag in some air because all the blood had left my head in a rush.

Arabella closed the distance between us, her eyes glittering, her cheeks flushed. With deft movements, she popped the button on my jeans, her fingers dipping below the waistband. She paused, meeting my eyes, her eyebrow raised.

“Go for it,” I growled, and Arabella didn’t waste a goddamn second. Reaching in, she freed my cock, wrapping her delicate fingers around its thick, throbbing length.

I held my breath as she leaned forward, hesitating for only a moment before flicking her tongue over the tip. Biting back a moan, I gripped the steering wheel tighter, not sure how I was gonna keep the RV on the road.

“How’s that?” she purred, her lips teasing, her tongue darting, her hand pumping.

“Great.”

“Good.” She was hesitant, uncertain, a little shy, which was even more of a turn on.

“Fuck, that’s so good.”

“Mmm.” She was watching me, tracking my reaction, learning as she went. Then she found her groove and holy fuck, I don’t know how we didn’t crash the RV. She took me into her mouth, sucking hard, then releasing me to run her tongue up and down my length.

I was lost, my balls churning, my cock aching, the RV’s wheels a blur. Arabella was ruthless, her fingers curling, her lips and her tongue and her suction had the pleasure barrelling through me. Fuck, I needed to get off the road before I blew my load. Yanking on the wheel, I veered off the highway, into a shoulder, the brakes squealing as the vehicle shuddered to a halt. Arabella was whimpering, her fingers working, her strokes sure and steady.

Unbuckling my seat belt, I scooped her up, hauling her into my lap.

Without a moment’s hesitation, she straddled me, her skin flushed, her eyes burning. Only problem? She hadn’t taken the time to remove her panties and now they were in the way.

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