Page 100 of Mistletoe and Christmas Kisses

The powerful sensation hit him just as hard and he shuddered, the quiver snaking its way from his toes to his lips, releasing in an unbridled moan. Being with her, buried deep, made every woman in his past seem absurd. Meaningless. For two years, he’d taken her in the darkness, her sighs filling his ears, her taste filling his mouth.

Her love filling his heart.

He withdrew as far as he could. She shifted and sucked him back in like a drawn breath. Damn, this old desk is the perfect height. He tried to picture all the desks he’d seen in his life and the rooms they had occupied, anything but her stretched around him, pulsing, thigh muscles jumping, heel digging into his buttocks, nipples scratching his chest.

She nipped his neck, her hands gliding down his back, taking hold of his hips and rocking. “Harder,” she whispered, driving against him, frantic bursts of air batting his cheek.

“I remember, Princess.” Unable to deny her, unable to deny himself, he clasped her to him and began a steady, pounding rhythm. Deep, fluid strokes, ones she matched without hesitation. Compliant harmony.

Colors burst in a shower of brilliance behind his eyelids; his skin tingled, tightened, surely too small to contain him. The scent of sex crowded the air and coated their skin. Tangling his fingers in her hair, he took command of her lips. Not long, he thought. Not long for either of us.

With a final kiss, he pulled back enough to see her face. Cheeks flushed, eyelids fluttering, lips parted on a sigh, she was the most exquisite woman he’d ever seen. He would never let her go again.

“Open your eyes, Princess,” he said, the words fraying at the edges.

She blinked, her gaze unfocused. Below, his fingers found the sensitive bud of skin he knew would drive her wild. His thrusts slowed to long, creeping strokes. Resolute, he ignored her efforts to reverse his decision.

“You’re mine, Princess. Mine. There won’t be marriage to anyone but me. I’ll die before another man knows you this way.” As his lips brushed her ear, he buried himself in her, then withdrew to the tip. “No one could love you as much as I do. I promise. I’ll promise every day for the rest of your life if you let me.”

Her eyes widened, lost a little of their befuddlement. Tanner refocused his efforts, concentrated on making her peak with his words ringing in her ears. A bit Machiavellian, perhaps, but desperate men took desperate measures.

She opened her mouth to speak, emitting a tortured groan instead.

Hammering in the final nail, he dipped his head and mouthed next to her ear, “No one, Princess. Remember that while you clench tight. While you give yourself to me, flood us both with—” She arched in response, crushing his hand between their bodies.

A skillful manipulation, but one that signaled the end for him.

He had never been able to watch Kat peak, watch an orgasm crest and overtake her, without plunging headfirst into one himself. She threw her head back, neck muscles taut, lips parted, swollen. He felt her passionate cry, in his chest, in his soul, as if she’d plunged it in with a sharp blade. Whimpering, she tucked her head into the nook between his neck and shoulder, and shivered in his arms.

He thrust deeply and her leg tightened around him. His heart pounded, pounding out thought, pounding out everything except his Princess. His vision faded, dimmed to black, flashes of gold sparking the edges. A roar filled his ears as the air thickened like dense summer heat. Straining, he grasped pleasure with both hands, teeth bared, arms clutching, binding her to him, attaining a pinnacle he’d never thought to reach again.

Moments later, coming down, Tanner slumped against her, chest hitching. A bead of sweat rolled off his chin, slid to her brow. Kate tried to swab it off, but missed because her hand trembled. Seeing this, she clenched her fingers into a fist.

Gazes locking, they stared. Faintly, he realized his arm throbbed and his trousers hung around his ankles. His knees ached from banging against the desk.

Equally bewildered, she blinked and brushed a limp strand of hair from her face. Of course, she looked beautiful, but he experienced no pleasure looking at her. Her cautious expression made it painfully obvious she still didn’t trust him.

Fury nearly lifted his head from his shoulders.

Tugging his hand through his hair, he brushed sweat from his cheek and smelled her on his skin. Disengaging—but not wanting to—he yanked his trousers to his waist. “You’re going to marry that bastard, aren’t you? I can see the message, written all over your face. After this” —he fastened buttons, his fingers still wet from her— “you still don’t believe me. My heart ripped from my chest isn’t enough for you? How long, Kat, how long would you make me suffer before I earned the right to love you again? Two years, four? An eternity?” He grabbed his shirt from the floor and shoved his arms in the sleeves, wincing when his stitches stretched. “Well, I’m finished begging. Finished.”

Covering his face with his hands, he drew a breath of tainted air, fighting his love for her.

“Love? What in the world would you know about love, Tanner? Like a bauble you’re denied, you covet me. Covet, lust, not love.” Clothing rustled, her slippers shuffled. “You destroyed me once. Maybe I even let you. Assisted. Enthusiastically at times. But I won’t—I can’t risk that again. I cannot risk loving you again.”

He tipped his head and stared at a cobweb spanning an entire corner of the ceiling. “Kat, I’ve loved you since the first day I met you. Truthfully, I don’t know what I can do to make you believe that. Fine, you’re scared. God, do you think I’m not?” He laughed, amazed by how thin and ragged it sounded. “You assume you were the only one hurt? Well, you have no idea.”

His anger increased with her silence. Stalking forward, he grasped the doorknob and gave it a furious twist. The door whacked against the wall, hinges snapping.

Kate followed, plucking at his sleeve. He flinched, tugging the material from her fingers. “Tanner, please. Please try to understand.”

He turned, chest rising and falling. “You love me, you goddamned fool,” he said, waiting, again, for some change in her expression.

No such luck.

So he walked away: from her eyes, glowing from their lovemaking, from her skin, glistening from his touch. “What we share isn’t ordinary, Kat. With most, sex is just that: sex. Nothing special about it. Distasteful actually, somewhat embarrassing, when all is said and done. A necessary, fleeting pleasure. And one of life’s extreme ironies. There is nothing in this world lonelier than waking next to someone, after warming them with your body, and wishing like hell you’d never met them.” He swallowed, throat clicking. “It makes you think you’re the only person in the world just then.”

“I wouldn’t know about that.”