Page 85 of Under the Mistletoe with You

Christopher pulls him close as Nash clambers forward, ending up with Nash straddling Christopher’s body.They’re face to face, and just for a second they watch each other, as if confirming that this isn’t a daydream for either of them.That this really could be happening.

That itis.

Hungrily, they kiss.It’s a hard, demanding kiss, that pushes Christopher’s head back against the headrest of the couch.

Nash’s back is strong and firm under Christopher’s touch, and as the kiss deepens, he drags Nash closer to him, their hips locked together.

Is this really happening?Christopher can’t be entirely sure that it isn’t another of his dreams, but the sensation of Nash cradling his face can’t be imagined.Nash’s hands, rougher than Christopher had imagined, trace the stubbled edge of his jaw.

It’s electricity, and a sigh escapes Christopher’s lips.It seems to please Nash, who smiles mischievously into their kiss.

And then Nash grinds his hips against Christopher.It’s a little embarrassing how loudly Christopher gasps at the friction, but it’s clear that Nash is enjoying this.

The smug bastard.

Christopher clutches the front of Nash’s shirt in his fist, daring him to move again.He can’t get enough of the air or Nash or this kiss.It’s a delicious drowning, and he’s drunk on it.

‘You like that,’ Nash whispers.It’s not a question.It’s truth.And in answer, a second grind of his hips is met with another moan.

It’s too much.

It’s been too long.

Nash leans back and fixes him with a sharp, satisfied grin of power.It’s the grin of a nasty little fae king – a smile he’s never seen him wear on film.This is all for them right now, and Christopher wants to fall into it.

It floods him with something new.A fiery confidence that flushes his senses.

‘Take your shirt off,’ Christopher growls, and Nash does so.It’s quite possibly the first time Nash has ever done what he’s told.And, while it’s not the first time Christopher’s seen Nash topless, it’s the first time he’s let himselflook.

And he’s just as beautiful as Christopher imagined.That softly sculpted chest, leading down to a firm and even more sculpted belly.He kisses softly at the hard muscle between Nash’s shoulder and neck, and relishes the returned gasp he hears in his ear.

He traces fingers down Nash’s chest, down, down to his belt.But before he can unbuckle it, Nash takes Christopher’s hands and pins them back above his head.

Nash’s eyes are fire and heat, and even though it feels like a war for power between them, he submits.He lies back as Nash gets to his knees and hungrily kisses Christopher’s soft belly, pushing up his jumper as he goes.

And in one delicious breath, Nash undoes the flies on his jeans.His face hovers right over the thin cotton of Christopher’s boxers.He can feel Nash’s breath against him, and it makes him pulse with desire.

‘Yes,’ he gasps with want.‘Yes.’

There’s one more flash of that satisfied shark grin.Nash’s lips are warm and full andoh god.He sinks into the glorious pleasure of Nash’s mouth, and whimpers under the grip of his hand.

It’s a golden blur of ecstasy that builds and builds, and he knows he isso damn close already.

‘Nash,’ he bleats, trying not to buck his hips against the delicious pleasure.Upon hearing his name, Nash hums in reply.The sensation tips Christopher over the edge, right into the deep bliss of orgasm.

‘Christ,’ he whispers, once he can speak again.

Between his knees, Nash grins up at him and he knows that the only thing he wants to do now is bring this man down to a shivering, crumbling mess too.

‘Get up here,’ he growls, but Nash darts away towards the bedroom, reaching for Christopher as he goes.

Somehow, all while kissing each other, they make their way to the bed.Christopher pushes Nash down onto the mattress.He’s removed his trousers, and so reclines back in a perfect pair of black hipster boxers.A greedy ache rushes through Christopher.

What is it about this man that drives him into such a frenzy?The bickering, the flirting, the push and pull of their sex.There’s something he can’t escape about Nash Nadeau.

He lies down alongside Nash, sliding his hand below the line of Nash’s boxers.To his delight, Nash gasps as his fingers stroke lower, through the soft hair to the warm hard centre of it all.

‘Say please.’