Page 20 of Mistletoed with the Mountain Man
For the remainder of the day, I carefully avoid walking under any of them. Giving each sprig a wide berth like it might explode.
"You're scared of a little plant," she teases.
"I'm not scared."
"Then why are you doing that weird sideways walk every time you pass one?"
Because I know exactly what will happen if I end up under mistletoe with you. "Strategic navigation."
She laughs, and the sound slides around me like warm hands. "You're such a cop. Everything's a strategy."
"Keeps me alive."
"We're decorating for Christmas, Kade. The stakes are pretty low."
If only she knew how high the stakes actually feel right now.
We finish the tree as the afternoon light starts to fade. Outside, clouds are building—thick and gray, promising snow.
"I love it," Nia says softly, stepping back to admire our work. The silver and white ornaments catch the dimming light, elegant and understated. "And I just know your family's going to love it, too."
I smile. “Couldn't have done it without you.”
"That's true. You'd probably have color-coded the ornaments by size and called it done."
"Hey. Organization is important."
"So is spontaneity." She starts gathering her things. "I should probably head out. Looks like weather's coming."
"Yeah. Good idea." We head to the mud room off the front door.
As we reach for our coats, I look up. Her gaze follows mine to the mistletoe hanging directly above us.
Her eyes narrow with challenge. "Well. Would you look at that."
"Nia—"
"Rules are rules." She steps closer, tilting her chin up. "Wouldn't want to disrespect Christmas tradition."
Every reason I shouldn't do this runs through my head in rapid succession. The age gap. The power dynamic.
The fact that I know I'll want more than one kiss.
"You should go," I say, but I don’t move.
"Probably." She looks up at me through those thick lashes. "Are you going to make me, Officer?"
And that’s it. Something inside me rebels.
I pull her against me hard, one hand fisting in her hair as I slam my mouth down on hers. She gasps, and I take advantage, sweeping my tongue past her lips to taste her properly.
But she responds like she's been waiting for this—hands diving into my hair, body pressing closer, matching my intensity with her own. The kiss is hot and desperate and nothing like the sweet, gentle one I should be giving her. Or the kind of kiss I expected in return.
I walk her backward until she hits the wall, my thigh pushing between her legs. She whimpers into my mouth, and the sound destroys what's left of my control.
My hands slide under her sweater, finding warm skin. She arches into my touch, her nails scraping my scalp. I kiss down her jaw, her throat, sucking the spot where her pulse throbs.
"Kade," she breathes, and hearing my name in that wrecked voice nearly breaks me.
