Page 94 of Mistletoe and Mayday
“You assaulted me with a custom-made souvenir?” I try for stern, but the absurdity crashes over me all at once.
She explodes with laughter—that full-body, uninhibited sound that once grated on my nerves and now feeds something starved inside me.
“I’m so sorry. I was aiming for seductive and landed on assault and battery.” Her eyes dance with mischief. “Though technically this makes us even for all the times you made me hit my head against the headboard.”
Heat surges through me at the memory. “That’s different,” I counter, still rubbing my injury. “That was intentional. And thoroughly enjoyed by all parties.”
“Fair point,” she concedes, stepping closer to inspect my wound. Her fingers probe my scalp, her body pressing against mine in a way that makes me forget about the pain. “Does this hurt?”
“What do you think?” I murmur, but her proximity is already healing whatever damage that snow globe might have caused.
She bites her lip, a calculated move that draws my attentionwhere she wants it. “I think I should kiss it better. I’m told I have very therapeutic lips.”
“Is that so?” I raise an eyebrow, unable to resist playing along. “Where did you get your medical license, Dr. Monroe?”
“The University of Making It Up As I Go Along.” She stands on tiptoes, pressing a gentle kiss to the sore spot. “Did that help?”
“Not nearly enough.” I capture her hand, guiding it to the front of my jeans, where my arousal is unmistakable. “Perhaps you should examine the patient more thoroughly.”
Her eyes darken as her palm flattens against me. “That’s a very serious condition you have there, Mr. Lockhart. Might require extended treatment.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.” I press my lips to that spot just below her ear that makes her shiver. “Shall we take this inside before you concuss me with any more souvenirs?”
She fumbles with her keys, a flush spreading across her cheeks. “If you can stop distracting me for five seconds, yes.”
I slide my hands under her shirt to trace circles on the small of her back. “I’m not sure that’s possible,” I murmur against her neck. “You’re incredibly distracting yourself.”
The door finally swings open, and we stumble inside, a tangle of grabbing hands and hungry mouths. Bailey places the cabin on a shelf with her collection before turning back to me, her eyes glittering with intent.
“Now,” she says, pressing her palms against my chest and walking me backward toward what I assume is her bedroom. “Where were we before I assaulted you with that cabin?”
“I believe I was about to show you exactly how much I missed you.” I spin us around, lifting her. Her legs wrap around my waist, and I carry her through her apartment, my mouth never leaving hers for more than a second.
“Which way?” I murmur against the delicate skin of her neck.
“Left,” she gasps as I graze my teeth over her pulse point. “Door at the—oh God, do that again—at the end.”
Each step creates delicious friction between us. Her fingers work at the buttons of my shirt with surprising dexterity, given how her breath catches every time I press her harder against me.
“Someone’s eager,” I tease, enjoying the flush that spreads across her cheeks.
“Says the man who tracked me across five cities with snow globes,” she counters, pushing my shirt off my shoulders. Her hands explore my chest, nails scraping over my skin in a way that makes my muscles tighten. “Besides, I haven’t had sex since that cabin, and unlike some people, I don’t have corporate mistresses lined up in every city.”
I growl at that, nipping at her collarbone. “There’s been no one since you.”
“Good,” she says, and the possessiveness in her voice sends heat surging through me. “Because I don’t share well, and I’d hate to have to push someone out of a plane.”
I kick her bedroom door open and deposit her on the bed, following her down to capture her mouth again. “The only person getting pushed anywhere is you—into multiple orgasms.”
She laughs against my lips, a sound that dissolves into a moan as my hand slides under her shirt. “That was both arrogant and ridiculously hot. How do you do that?”
“Years of practice being both,” I murmur, pushing her shirt up to reveal the creamy skin of her stomach. I press my lips to the soft flesh just above her navel, hermuscles tensing and quivering beneath my mouth. “But I always deliver on my promises.”
Her clever fingers work at my belt, undoing it with surprising speed. “Promises are easy to make, Lockhart. Let’s see if your performance matches the hype.”
I pull back to look at her, raising an eyebrow at the challenge. “I believe I’ve already shown my...capabilities in this area. Multiple times.”
“Past performance doesn’t guarantee future results,” she quips, her hand slipping inside my pants to wrap around me. “As they say in the financial world.”
