Page 93 of Catching the Mistletoe

“Yeah, it is.” I took a sip, the warmth doing little to ease the icy knot in my chest. Home. The word hung heavy between us, loaded with so much meaning.

Arabella leaned against the counter, cradling her own mug in her hands. “I guess we’ll have to figure out what we’re gonna tell everyone.”

And here it was. My chance. “What do you mean?”

“What do you mean, what do I mean? What are we going to tell my family about us? About all this?” She gestured to the bedroom, her meaning clear.

Fuck. I’d been thinking about nothing but this moment for days and now that it was here, I wasn’t ready for it. But she’d opened the door for this. The least I could do was step through it. Anything less than that would be stringing her along, and she didn’t deserve that. “Nothing.”

“What?”

“What is there to tell them?” My tone was flat, expressionless, even though my heart was thudding painfully.

“You don’t think that we should tell them about us?”

Do it. Don’t hold back. “There is no us.”

Pure agony flashed in her eyes for the briefest moment, cutting me to the bone. It took all my strength not to rip the words back, to say I didn’t mean them. Then her eyes narrowed, and I felt like one of those insects, pinned in a glass case.

“Wow.” There was only the slightest wobble in her voice as she lifted her chin.There’s my girl. “Okay.”

She stared at me, searching for answers, but I couldn’t give them to her. Because I knew that if I did, she’d just push harder, drag out the pain for that much longer. No. I needed to cut her loose. So, I took a breath, and forced the next words out. “Listen, it’s been great. Lots of fun. You asked me to fuck you. I did. What else is there?”

“Nothing. Of course.”

Her words slammed into my solar plexus, cutting off my air supply. That was it. She’d taken me at my word and it was over.

Stepping by me, she put her mug in the sink, her scent washing over me. I let myself inhale her, a sick, hollow feeling rising inside me. This was what I wanted, wasn’t it? To push her away? To get her to move on? So why did it feel so fucking terrible?

“You did fuck me. Good and proper. So thank you for that.” She was taunting me now, throwing my words back at me. Her face was blank when she took my mug as well, dropping into the sink next to hers. “And you know what?” She moved so she was standing in front of me. “If that’s all this is, how about one last time? We can go out with a bang. Har har.”

She leaned up and pressed her lips to mine and at the same time, shoved her hand down my pants. She was kissing me, but also cursing me, and there was a dark, twisted part of me that craved the pain. She pulled away, her eyes blazing now.

“What’s the matter? Don’t have anything to say now?”

“No.” My voice was raw, hoarse.

“That’s too bad. But maybe you can still show me a good time.”

With that, she sank to her knees, her hands working the zipper of my jeans. My mind went blank as she pulled my cock out and wrapped her lips around me. I was lost to everything except the sensation of her, the heat and wetness of her mouth, and the ache in my chest. Her eyes were locked on mine as she worked me and the fire in them seared me all the way to hell. She let go of me long enough to push to her feet and press her lips to mine again.

“That’s right. One last fuck, then we’re done. Isn’t that what you wanted?” She was whispering against my lips, her breath sweet and minty, her fingers tightening around my shaft.

“Yes,” I groaned, my hands clutching at her shoulders. She kissed me, hard and bruising, and it felt like being torn apart. Then she was moving, stripping down to her underwear, shoving my jeans and boxers down, her movements jerky, angry.

“Fuck me, Mack.” Her eyes were blazing.

That’s how she wanted it. Hot and angry. I fought the urge to soothe her, to pick her up and carry her to the bed so I could make sweet love to her. But I knew I couldn’t do that. It would be the cruelest prank of all. So if she wanted it hot and angry, that’s what I’d give her. I dragged her against me and crushed my lips to hers, pushing my tongue into her mouth and squeezing her ass. She kissed me back just as fiercely, her hands running under my shirt, her nails scraping at my skin. Burning heat coursed through my veins, annihilating any thought of sweet, soft or gentle.

Spinning her around, I shoved her toward the kitchen counter and she leaned forward, her arms braced on the surface. I was behind her, kicking her feet apart, the sound of her whimper slicing through the air.

I entered her in one thrust, my hands digging into her hips, holding her still. Fuck, she was so hot and wet and the way she pushed back against me told me she was already close. I fucked her hard, our skin slapping together, punctuated by her gasps and moans. With a white knuckled grip on the counter’s edge, she arched her back, quivering against me as she came hard and fast, all over my cock.

I didn’t even give her time to catch her breath before I pulled out and turned her, lifting her onto the counter. Her eyes were glittering, hot on my face, as she slapped one hand behind her, and wrapped the other around my neck. Gripping her behind the knees and spreading her legs wide, I shoved back into her, feeling her moan as a heavy ache in my balls.

Realizing that this was it, the last time I’d ever be with her, I decided to slow it down, drag out the torture. I bent my head, pressing my forehead to hers as I rocked my hips, fucking her slow and deep, watching her. I wanted to tell her, show her, exactly why this had to happen. Let her see, once and for all, the darkness in me. So I reached up and wrapped my hand around her slim, white throat.

Her eyes widened, but she didn’t even fucking flinch. We’d never done anything like this before, but she just stared straight back at me, as if she was saying,do you your worst.

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