Page 13 of Mistletoe Love Match
“What do you want to do?” she asked, hoping with all her heart it involved their naughty bits.
“I’m going to kiss you in a ditch,” he announced. And as weird as that sounded, and despite telling herself she could not fall under his spell, it also felt like the only reasonable option under the circumstances.
“Yeah, okay,” she replied, obviously not thinking clearly but lucid enough to know she wanted this man’s lips attached to hers.
He leaned in closer, and she inhaled his scent—minty and clean, like sexy antiseptic—which also sounded insane, but it really got her going. He stroked his thumb across her bottom lip, teasing her, and a delicious flicker of heat sparked between her thighs.
“Alec,” she whispered, and damn the man for having such a sexy name.
They stared at each other like they didn’t quite recognize who they were looking at anymore. Were they friends? Were they foes? Were they simply shag buddies?
Two minutes ago, she would have called him her live-in booty call. But that no longer felt like an accurate description of their situation—especially when he looked at her like this and the lust in his eyes gave way to a deep, soulful longing.
The breath caught in her throat as he captured her mouth, owning her with every kiss. There was no warmup. The man blew past giving her a little peck here and there. He wasn’t nibbling. He was feasting on her. This man was in it to win it, kissing her like he was born to do nothing else. In a wild tangle of lips, teeth, and tongues, they kissed like kissing was on the brink of being outlawed. She needed to be closer to him. With the grace of an inebriated giraffe, she scrambled over the console.
Beep, beep, beeeep!
“Bloody horn,” she moaned as her bum bumped the steering wheel.
But Alec didn’t seem to notice. He growled against her neck. “I cannot get enough of you.”
The feeling was mutual.
And then she remembered she was missing an item of clothing. She straddled him and rocked her hips, grinding against him pantyless and embracing her common Christmas harlot status. And oh yes, she’d gone full-on harlot. She was already wet—so wet. Alec had to be able to feel her through his thin scrubs.
He inhaled a sharp breath.
Yep, he knew.
Alec claimed her lips and kissed her with an intensity that—had she been wearing underwear—would have melted them clean off her body. And heaven help her. This man could lock lips. With surgical accuracy, that tongue of his had her moaning. They kissed with a fury reserved for long-lost lovers reuniting or soft-core porn actors hamming it up for the camera. Thanks to her commando status, they were probably more in the soft-core porn ballpark, but one thing couldn’t be denied: this was not for show. The attraction between them was undeniable. Simply put, they couldn’t get enough of each other.
He reached beneath her skirt and gripped her bottom with both hands. “It should be against the law to have an ass this perfect. Oh, the things I want to do to you, Calliope Cress.”
She arched into him as a dizzying current raced through her body. “I might have to stop calling you Dr. Wanker and start calling you Dr. Dirty Talk.”
He ran his tongue across the seam of her lips. “Paging Dr. Dirty Talk. I like it,” he purred, his voice becoming gravelly as he tightened his hold on her.
Bodies writhing and heated breaths mingling, they dry-humped like horny teenagers. The rush from their close call had ushered in a relentless passion that had her panting and desperate for Alec to fill her to the hilt with his glorious cock.
“I want you, Calliope. I never want to let you go,” he bit out before releasing a guttural, animalistic growl. He was a growly, persnickety guy, for sure, but that sound was new—and so was the admission. He’d never said anything like that.
I never want to let you go.
His heated utterance carried an unwavering determination that heightened her need to feel the weight of his body pressed to hers.
Could he have meant it—really meant it?
Then again, they’d just experienced a brush with death. Perhaps he’d gotten caught up in the moment and the noise was a new so-glad-we-still-get-to-bang-each-other’s-brains-out growl.
She closed her eyes, pushed aside his words, and prepared to get her snow-ditch freak on, when she heard the throaty grumble again.
Er, er, er, errrr.
“Is that you?” he asked as he kissed the sensitive skin beneath her earlobe.
She froze mid-hip thrust and pulled back. “I thought it was you.”
She held his gaze as a prickly sensation hit.
