Page 21 of A Daring Mistletoe Kiss
“Not a chance! Come on, husband, we shall make it a quick romp.”
“A quick romp? No such thing.” A finger slowly, lovingly, traced the hollow of her neck, and the slight curve on his lips sent a lick of thrill up her spine. “I like to take my time,love.”
Pippa almost groaned, a deep provocative chill spreading through her body. Ever since she wed Chatteris, his voice had changed. Not in tone or timbre—he still sounded the same—but rather in what his tone and timbre did to her insides. She melted. Every single time. Which wouldn’t be a bother if she didn’t feel like she would surrender her life to the man whenever he whispered in her ear like this. But itwasa bother. A bother to the point where she wanted to cling to him day and night.
Her gaze dropped to his gaping shirt; a shirt she had ruined by ripping the fabric open in her excitement. She placed both her hands on his bare chest, the heat of his skin seeping into her palms. “Please, Nic.”
His body trembled beneath her fingers, and Pippa knew she’d won. Because to him, her voice had also changed. He couldn’t resist. Couldn’t object. Couldn’t deny.
His fingers dug into her waist, as he pushed his lower half up against hers. “Don’t complain if your body itches for a week because of the grass.”
Pippa gave him a toothy grin. “Oh, it won’t itch.”
“You seem sure of yourself, love.”
She leaned in to hover her mouth just over his ear. “Because I’ll be the one on top.”
“Christ, Pippa.” And just like that, his lips captured hers in a demanding, yet gentle kiss.
Pippa would have laughed had her mouth not been fully claimed. The kiss was filled with sweeping desire unfolding with burning complaint. The irresistible pull of building passion yet the all the grievances of being forced into a miserable setting.
What was this, if not love?
She looped her arms around his neck, her tongue dancing alongside his, retreating and teasing before embracing once again. She wanted to anchor this moment deeply into her memory. Like all moments with her husband. She did not want to lose out on a single one. Later, she would record them into a journal of her own, hoping to one day pass it on to her daughter. And if she only had sons, then she would pass her thoughts down to them, hoping they would find such magnificent love as well. And a bit of scandal. Everyone needed a bit of scandal in their lives.
Her husband suddenly flinched and pulled away from her to curse. His body twitched below her.
“What’s wrong?”
“Something bit me on the inside of my thigh.”
“Impossible. You still have your pants on.”
“Damnit, I’m telling you, something bit me, Pippa.”
Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of his breeches. “Very well, let’s see where you were bitten. I shall kiss the spot better for you.”
Another curse. “You cannot be serious. I’m not a child,” he complained, but he didn’t stop her.
“Lift your waist.”
“No. I’ll be unveiled to more bugs.”
“You jacket is beneath you.”
He sighed. “I’ll never wear this jacket again.” He lifted his waist so that Pippa could tug off his breeches. She manoeuvred them to his ankles before her gaze scrutinized the inside of his thighs.
A groan. “Why do I feel so damned exposed while you are perfectly covered.”
“It rather reminds me of our wedding night.”
His gaze narrowed. “I don’t remember you being cold and itching?”
She grabbed a certain member of his body. “Your body feels warm and . . .ready.” She ginned down at him. “I’ll relieve this itch of yours.”
“Damnit, Pippa, where did you learn to say such things? What books have you been reading? Don’t tell me in your mother’s journal?”
She squeezed him. “You shouldn’t be bringing up my mother at a time like this.”
