Page 105 of Mistletoe and Christmas Kisses
“All right, enough games,” he whispered, a rough edge to his voice. He turned her in his arms and covered her mouth, slid his tongue inside before she could argue, which at this point she probably would not have. In response, she lifted on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck. Tangled round each other, they kissed. Starving, open-mouthed desperation. Kisses of shared loneliness. Of painful separation. Of heartfelt love and renewed fascination.
Hip rocking, blood-thickening and gunmetal hot.
Tanner came up gradually. “I have five things to say to you. And, you’re going to listen.” He dipped his head, claimed her lips in a brief, urgent kiss, before drawing back. His eyes blazed: blue, ocean blue.
Befuddled, Kate reached for spectacles she had left in her bedroom. Tanner smelled so good she wanted to bottle his scent and sprinkle the mixture on her sheets, pour it in her bath water. She glanced around, having to concentrate—dear God, concentrate—to remember where she was. “Tanner, I—”
He tapped his finger against her mouth, silencing her, then paused to stroke his thumb across her bottom lip. “Hush,” he said, his voice thick with suppressed passion. “One. Cowboy-lover did not show her gratitude by reaching into my trousers, as you so delicately phrased it. Nor did she ever come close to having the pleasure. Reserved for you, Princess. Although, she did give me a rather exuberant hug on my departure.”
Kate snapped back in his arms, but he yanked her against his chest, and actually had the nerve to flash one of his tasty grins. He dropped a kiss to her brow, lingering a moment, his lips warm, slightly chapped. “Two. Because you seem to think this is information I purposely withheld, I finished at Oxford in” —he trailed his fingers through her hair while nibbling lightly on her jaw— “1841. Then I spent two miserable years toiling away at Sloane-Barkley. Writing loan agreements, persuading old men to take their savings from beneath feather mattresses and deposit it in a secure, metal vault.” His mouth settled over the sensitive patch of skin just beneath her ear. “Two years of dry bank forecasts and financial records with no end. Absolute drudgery.”
“Oxford?”
He cupped her breasts, lifting them above her lace-edged bodice. “You think my western accent is adequate. This one is my bloody best,” he said next to her ear in a pitch-perfect aristocratic British accent.
“Hmmm....”
Sliding lower, his hands closed about her hips and drew her against him. “Three. My editor promised to hold the story for one week, Princess. You remember, we had a lunch appointment. At the Pale Lily on Market Street, I think.” A slow grind, wool and cambric not enough to keep his heat from flooding into her, liquefying, preparing her for him. Following the curves of her body from waist to shoulder, he gripped them and set her back. “I swear I planned to tell you. That day. I’d been rehearsing it for days, weeks.”
Kate stared, unfocused amber, the remains of a battered chignon grazing her cheek. Tanner grinned ruefully. Perhaps his persuasive techniques were a bit overzealous.
He rooted around in his waistcoat pocket and then lifted her hand to his lips. “Four.” He slipped the ring on her middle finger, turned her hand in the lamp’s golden glow. The stone shimmered, a perfect fit. He had known it would be. “I had this with me the day the story came out. Just picked it up from the jewelry store the day before. Had it resized. Grandmother Sloane was notorious for plump digits. Damn thing was tucked in my pocket when you hit me in the shoulder with that rock, if you want the entire truth.”
Her hand trembled in his, her fingers beginning to curl into a fist. “Tanner, I—”
“Marry me, Kat. Now. Today.” Fear seized him. Surely, after this, she would not refuse. “I don’t want to wait. I don’t want to live without you. Not for an hour, not for one minute.” He captured her hands and kissed her until she shoved against his chest, gasping for air. Her lids fluttered, her gaze finding his. “I love you, Kat. I love you more than life. More than I’ve ever imagined someone could love another person. More than I ever wanted to love someone. Plus” —he glanced down, laughed— “I’m dressed for a wedding. My family is, too. They’re taking up an entire pew at St. Andrews.”
She lifted her hand before her face and caressed the stone as if it might shatter. “Family? But...Crawford, he and I, we have an agreement to—to break off our friendship at an appropriate time.” She shrugged. “To lessen gossip.”
Tanner rocked back on his heels. “Well, you see, I took care of him.”
Her face paled. “Took care, oh, you didn’t kill him, did you?”
“Thanks a lot, Kat.” He raked his hand through his hair. Jesus, she thought highly of him, didn’t she? “I just transferred a modest amount into his bank account. You were a rather good deal, I think.”
“You bought me?”
Her sharp tone had him stepping back, arms raised, fingers splayed. “No, not bought. Just a small contribution to keep his mouth shut nice and tight. Avoid some of the gossip you mentioned.”
“You paid for me! Like a horse?”
“Much less than a horse. Unless I bought an old nag. Or a donkey, maybe.”
“Donkey,” Kate muttered and walked to the door.
With an easy stretch, Tanner hoisted her over his shoulder. He laughed, then sighed, and finally slapped her bottom, which was writhing, quite enjoyably, against his cheek. “I’ve had about enough of this, Kat. Either you love me or you don’t. Do you?” Another gentle slap. “Well?”
“Yes! I love you, I always have, you arrogant—”
No slap this time, just a lewd caress. “Marriage? Today?”
Her head bumped his back, bottom rocking high. “Yes, yes.”
“A deal then.” He let her slide down his chest, over his stomach and his aching arousal. His head dipped as he gave in to the kiss he wanted above all else.
“Tanner,” Kate whispered against his lips. “What about number five?”
With a smile, he tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “Ah, yes, I almost forgot. A bit belated, but....” He tilted her chin and stared straight into her eyes, a soft smile curving his lips. “Merry Christmas, Princess.”
THE END