Page 87 of The Mistletoe Kisser

He pressed her back down on the table and dragged the sweatshirt over her head. The little white tank top obscured nothing from his hungry gaze. She arched her back, putting those beautiful round breasts on display for him.

That trusting acquiescence made him feel things he hadn’t known he was capable of feeling.

She was willing to give him this part of her after having known him only a few days. That was a gift. A miracle. She’d seen him on his worst day andstillwanted him.

He brushed his lips over her cheek, the curve of her jaw. She smelled like sugar cookies and cinnamon. He was a goner.

“More.” Her voice trembled, and it made him feel like the luckiest son of a bitch in town. Possibly the state.

“I need you to know I didn’t come here with the intent to do this,” he whispered as he kissed and licked his way down her neck to her shoulder.

“’K,” she said. Her hand returned to his jeans. Only this time, it didn’t stop at the waistband.

He lost his breath and his damn mind when she closed her fingers around his swollen shaft.

“I love that you don’t wear underwear,” she said on a low moan.

Right now, he was pretty happy with that wardrobe choice too. “This is probably a mistake,” he admitted on a rasp. A misstep that nothing in the world could stop him from making. “I want to make that mistake with you.”

There were too many layers between them.

“Definitely,” she agreed. Her fingers tightened on his erection and then began to move, driving him out of his mind and into his body.

On a groan, he lowered himself and sucked a nipple into his mouth through the thin cotton. She bucked her hips against him and tightened her delicious grip on his shaft.

He didn’t know how much longer he could stand not being inside her. To distract himself, he shoved up her tank and worshipped her breasts with his mouth.

Sammy’s leg spasmed in response, catching the box of jingle bells and sending it flying to the floor.

Bells rang. Cats hissed. Stan the sheep eyed them curiously.

“Shit,” she breathed. “Sorry.”

He picked her up off the table.

“Ryan, if you come to your senses right now, I will implode,” she vowed.

“You’ve destroyed my senses, Sam. We’re going to your bedroom.”

“Yay! Condom?”

“Wallet. Bedroom?”

The fireplace was closer and cozy. Maybe even romantic?But Ryan didn’t want to have to perform for the first time with a petting zoo for an audience.

“Upstairs and to the left,” she said, shivering against him. She rained kisses over his jaw and neck. And when she sank her teeth into his ear lobe, he almost tripped.

Recovering quickly, he bounded up the staircase. Until she shoved a hand between them and gripped him in her fist. His dick jerked, and his foot nearly missed the next step.

“Don’t move a fucking muscle until I get us up these stairs,” he commanded.

“Hurry!”

They both survived the last few steps and Ryan kicked open the first door on the left, zeroing in on the bed. He couldn’t have described the room or the bed if his life depended on it because he was too busy dragging those Naughty or Nice shorts down her thighs. Underneath, she wore white underwear with snowflakes, and he couldn’t stop staring at the tantalizing wet spot on them.

“Help,” she whispered, and he realized she was doing her best to shove his jeans to the floor. He held off on touching her for as long as he could. Which was only about 1.5 seconds. Just long enough to get his shirt off and his jeans down.

With his jeans trapped around his ankles and one shoe on, it was good enough, he thought as he dove for her. Covering her warm, soft body with his own. As his mouth took hers in an aggressive assault, he brushed his fingers gently over the hypnotic wet spot on her underwear.