Page 24 of I Would Beg For You

I let out an exhale and grab the parcel, breaking the tab holding the lid in place.

A laugh bursts out of me when I open it to find a medium-sized bunch of mistletoe inside, a small card tucked amid the greenery.

If you want me to play with fire, use this to show me where it’ll burn x

I have to close my eyes and force my body to stay stock-still when I read the words she has penned on the card.

I told her during that Christmas office party when she tried to kiss me that doing so would mean getting close to flames. She remembers it. The sass in her reply makes me smile as much as it makes me yearn. She’s feisty, and I cannot wait to get to know this side of her more intimately.

In my study, I tear a small branch from the bunch then tuck the rest back into the box. I grab a small card from the desk and scrawl a few words on it.

Maybe you should use this to show me where our next kiss should be x

I close the box and head out to find Carlito. He’ll have one of our younger guys sent over to deliver this like a regular courier service, to not alert any suspicions. I sent her the lingerie gift this way, and it doesn’t seem like anyone’s the wiser next door as to what’s happening.

I’m on tenterhooks all day, my mind not at all on business. Thank the Lord it’s still the very early days of January—most ofthe crews are still on the New Year break, so I get away with being distracted.

Thankfully, sunset and evening come very quickly. In my bedroom, I place the branch of mistletoe in the middle of my bed. The green and white stand out starkly against the dark comforter, and I make sure to open the curtains wide so she can have an unhindered view of the bed.

It’s not long before the lights come on in her bedroom across the yard. The curtains aren’t drawn completely, and I can see her silhouette walking around the room.

Then the curtains’ part, and I grow still.

A sprig of mistletoe is clearly visible dangling from the canopy of her four-poster bed.

The minx. She’s clearly playing with fire. That’s where she wants us to kiss?

The breath gets knocked out of me when she steps in front of the window and slowly, carefully, deliberately, she unties the knot on her silk robe and slides the soft fabric down her shoulders, baring her body.

Her body which is clad in the crisscrossing lines of the purple teddy I sent her.

Is it possible to spontaneously combust? The sight of her in such decadent lingerie starts a fire in my blood, an inferno threatening to consume me. I chose the color because it reminds me of the cushion, she was holding all those years back when she watched me from her window. It’s a reminder we’re picking up from there.

The lines of thin lace are barely holding her breasts up, and as I travel my gaze lower onto her stomach, I know they’re tapering to two tiny straps on the sides of her pussy, the crotchless design exposing her completely down there.

Naomi almost plasters herself to the window, arms wide, hips gyrating softly against the glass pane. I can’t hear a sound, but I might bet she has music playing in the room.

Then a sound does register—a car starting next door. It has barely left the driveway when she moves away, then returns to dangle a sprig of mistletoe on the windowsill.

Is that an invitation to come over?

No one is home tonight with her except her father. The car must mean he has left.

Naomi throws me a come-hither look. When she retreats to the bed, laying down on her back, I can already imagine her with her legs parted, sweet pussy glistening with her arousal.

My blood does a quick turn, and I’m racing down the stairs at the side of my room before I can think this through. Her father might catch us…just like he might not. And if he does, well, we’ll deal with it.

The cunning vixen is luring me over, and damn if I’m going to put up a fight right now. I’m an Andretti—we deal with our issues. If Joel Smith becomes one, I’ll take care of him.

There’s a big tree conveniently on the other side of the fence, one of its strong branches leading directly to Naomi’s bedroom’s windowsill. It takes me a lunge and some crawling upward, then there I am in front of the panes she was pressed to just moments ago.

The glass slides quietly, and I step into her bedroom. It feels surreal to be here in this space I’ve seen and watched so many times over the years. I know the layout almost by heart now. Naomi doesn’t like change, I’d wager, because everything has always had its place in this room, and nothing ever moved in all these years.

Catching sight of her on the bed, I freeze. Because there she is, on her back, legs slightly open, one hand on her belly, the otheron a slim thigh that she parts even more when she catches me looking.

She looks like a thirst trap of the worst kind. And suddenly, I’m parched.

“You are definitely playing with fire,” I tell her.

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