Page 21 of Mistletoe Mistake
I can’t explain what happens next.
I should have returned her kind smile and explained we weren’t a couple.
Instead, I find myself bending down to brush a kiss across Holly’s pink lips, bracing myself for what is about to happen.
It was supposed to be a chaste kiss. A simple touch to appease an old lady. But as soon as I make contact, everything shifts and the simple touch turns into a burning need that succeeds in alleviating nothing.
My hand finds its way to her cheek as my tongue licks along the seam of her lips. She opens for me and the moment my tongue slides against hers, tasting her after years of need, I step into her and bring her body flush with mine.
Her long hair tangles in my fingers and when her hands settle on the waistband of my jeans, her fingertips brushing along my skin, a groan that has belonged to her for the last three years, bursts free.
An embarrassed cough drags us out of whatever spell we are under, and we pull apart abruptly. Holly’s face is flushed and her eyes seem startled, but she doesn’t break my gaze. She meets my eye, almost as if in challenge.
“Oh my, young love,” Flora coos, a hand held to her heart. “I remember it well.”
Still, neither of us offer the denial we should. Instead letting the lie linger in the air as though daring us to expose ourselves.
It’s going to be a long drive home.
* * *
We pull into the driveway an hour later and I shut off the engine, but I don’t make a move to get out of the car.
The ride home was torturously long with neither of us prepared to break the silence.
The silence which wasn’t uncomfortable exactly. It was more…
Anticipatory.
We sit there for a moment until I can’t take it any longer.
“Inside. Now.” I wrench the door open and storm to the house, never doubting that Holly will be right behind me.
Getting the key in the lock proves to be harder than it should, but when I finally succeed, I fling the door open and welcome the sound it makes when it slams into the wall.
It echoes the slamming of my heart in my chest.
I smell her before I see her.
Fucking peppermint.
Without thinking about what I’m about to do, I spin around and pull her to me. Slamming the door, I push her back until she crashes into it and I press against her, not stopping until every inch of her body is covered by me.
She’s fucking intoxicating. I run my nose along the column of her neck and have to stop myself from biting along her pulse point. Instead I still, and take a moment to enjoy the way it’s thrashing beneath her creamy skin.
Her breathing is erratic, her eyes closed, and I don’t think I have ever felt this powerful and powerless at the same time. This woman could be my downfall. If I don’t stop acting on my feelings, an important part of my life could implode.
But stopping isn’t an option. It’s not even a question of what I want.
It’s need.
Visceral. Raw.Need.
“Look at me.” The second it takes for her eyes to open feels endless. “Tell me to stop.” Because she’s the only reason I ever would.
“No.” Her answer is immediate and holds a challenge.
I lean down and slant my mouth over hers, loving the way she opens for me. As soon as I taste her, my cock kicks against my zipper, so I lower my hands to her ass and grab hold, lifting her and wrapping her legs around my waist.
