Page 67 of Seeds of Christmas
The idea of her regretting me nearly cracks me in two.
Her eyes meet mine, steady and clear despite her flushed cheeks. “It’s not just adrenaline. Maybe that’s making me brave enough to act on it, but these feelings were there before today. I wantthis, Carter. I want you.”
My entire body tightens at her words. “That’s all I needed to hear.”
I capture her mouth again, my hands sliding up her sides, under her shirt. Her skin is impossibly soft, and when I brush my thumbs along the underside of her breasts, she arches into me with a whimper that goes straight to my cock.
“Can I?” I ask, tugging at the hem of her shirt.
She nods, lifting her arms so I can pull it off. Underneath, she’s wearing a simple black bra but the sight of her like this, flushed and breathless in the firelight, is the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen.
“You’re beautiful,” I tell her, and I watch her cheeks turn an even deeper shade of pink.
“I’m not—” she starts, but I silence her with a kiss.
“You are,” I insist against her lips. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Rhi.”
My hands explore the newly exposed skin, mapping every curve, every freckle. When I trail kisses down her neck, she tilts her head back, giving me better access. I can feel her pulse hammering under my lips as I work my way down to her collarbone.
“Carter,” she gasps when I nip gently at the sensitive skin there.
“Tell me what you want,” I murmur against her skin. “Tell me what feels good.”
“Everything,” she replies. “Everything you’re doing feels good.”
I smile against her throat and continue my exploration, my hands sliding around to her back. I find the clasp of her bra, but I don’t unhook it yet. Instead, I trace my fingers along the band, feeling her tremble in my lap.
“More,” she whispers, and that single word nearly undoes me.
I finally unhook her bra, sliding the straps down her shoulders slowly, reverently. When I pull back to look at her, she tries to cover herself, suddenly self-conscious.
“Don’t,” I say softly, catching her hands.
She bites her lip but lets me pull her hands away. The firelight plays across her skin, making her glow. I lean forward and press a kiss to the center of her chest, right over her racing heart.
“So beautiful,” I murmur, and then I take my time exploring every inch of her with my mouth and hands.
When I finally close my lips around one nipple, she cries out, her fingers tightening in my hair. I lavish attention on her breasts, learning what makes her gasp, what makes her arch into me, what makes her moan my name.
“I need—” she starts, grinding against me again. “I need?—”
“What do you need, Rhi?” I ask, switching to her other breast. “Tell me.”
“I don’t know,” she admits, sounding frustrated. “I just know I need more.”
Misson accepted.
“Then let me,” I say, already moving to lay her back on the couch. “Let me take care of you.”
“What are you doing?” she whispers, her eyes wide.
“Something I have been dying to do.” I hook my fingers under the waistband of her leggings, looking up at her for permission. “Can I?”
She nods, lifting her hips slightly to help me. I ease the fabric down her legs slowly, taking my time, pressing kisses to each newly exposed inch of skin. I’m careful with her swollen ankle, gentle as I remove the fabric completely.
I settle between her legs, but I don’t touch her intimately yet. Instead, I start at her feet, massaging the one that isn’t injured, watching her face as I work my way up her calf. When I reach her thigh, she’s trembling, her breathing shallow.
“You’re tense,” I murmur, my hands kneading the soft flesh of her inner thigh. “Relax for me.”
