Kissing Under the Mistletoe

"If it makes you feel any better, he’s still taking women out on boats until they barf, which probably explains why he’s still single." She was laughing as he told her, "Only difference now is that he’s building the sailboats."

Brooke was still grinning as she drained the water from the pot and added butter, cheese, and a dash of pepper to the pasta. "And on that fantastically appetizing note, dinner is finally served."

When Rafe took a bite of her pasta, he nearly groaned with pleasure. "This is damn good, Brooke."

She looked like he’d just told her she’d won the lottery. "Thank you."

They ate in companionable silence while enjoying the sound of the frogs and the crickets outside. Finally, she pushed away her half-full plate and yawned. "Sorry, I had to get up early this morning to finish boxing some orders to deliver before the stores opened today."

"What time did you wake up?"

"Five a.m."

"I’ve kept you up too late. You need to go to bed." He stood and took their plates into the kitchen. "I’ll take care of cleaning up."

"You rode all the way here from Seattle on your motorcycle." She moved next to him to turn on the water and start the dishes. "You must be tired, too."

His first mistake was putting his hands on her waist to pull her away from the sink.

His second was not letting go.

And his third was almost lowering his mouth to hers.

Somehow, he managed to take a step back. "Thank you for dinner. It was great." He forced himself to look away from her gorgeous face and those curves that wouldn’t quit. "And thanks for giving me a place to stay. Now I’m going to wash your dishes, and you’re going to bed."

Alone, damn it.

"You haven’t had one of my truffles yet. Don’t you want one for dessert?"

Hungry for something he knew would be a hell of a lot sweeter than chocolate, he said, "I’d love one."

"I wonder which flavor I should give you?" She licked her lips as she stared at him, and he couldn’t keep his gaze from dropping to her full lower lip and then the beautiful bow at the center of her upper. "How hot do you like your spices?"

"Hot."

Her beautiful lips curved up. "I had a feeling you’d say that." She took a piece of chocolate with a red swirl across the top from a clear plastic container on the counter. "Try a bite of this one."

She didn’t hand him the chocolate, but lifted it to his mouth instead. He leaned down and bit into it. Spice and steam instantly hit his tongue, followed by the smooth, rich flavor of dark chocolate.

"You like it, don’t you?"

With his mouth full, he could only nod.

"Have the rest."

Her voice was husky, and though the truffle was amazing, he wanted to bite into her instead the next time. When she moved just a little bit closer to feed him the other half of the chocolate, the sweet scent of her hair and skin had him swaying toward her just enough that his tongue slicked over the pad of her forefinger.

Her pupils dilated, and he could have sworn he heard a small gasp fall from her lips at the tiny contact.

Somehow, he convinced his feet to take a step back from her again. "Your truffles are delicious, Brooke."

"Thank you."

They stared at each other for several heated moments. "I’ve kept you up too late. Go to bed." Before I do more than lick your fingertip.

"Take either of the guest bedrooms and let me know if you need anything." She paused and looked up at him with her big green eyes. "Anything at all."

His head swam with thoughts of all the things he needed from her. Backing her up against the wall. Pinning her against him with his thighs between hers. Pulling the long-sleeved shirt over her head. Lowering his mouth to the soft swell of her br**sts. Drinking in the sweet sound of her gasps and sighs as he laved her skin with his tongue. Lifting her into his arms, before lowering her onto the bed. Using her shirt to tie her arms above her head to her bed frame. And then loving the hell out of her with his hands and mouth until she was begging for more. For all of him.

"I’m not going to need anything." The words came out harder than they should have, but that was only because he was mere seconds from losing control entirely and acting out the scene his brain had just scripted.

"Okay." Her mouth started to move up into a smile, but fell before it got all the way there. "Good night, Rafe."

For a moment, he thought—prayed—she might turn and walk out of the room without giving him a hug good night. But then she was moving closer and wrapping her arms around him. Of course he had to put his around her, too.

Once he was there, he couldn’t do a damn thing but breathe her in...and relish every single inch of her body against his.

"Good night, Brooke."

When she finally moved out of his arms and walked down the hall to her bedroom, he finished cleaning up the kitchen. The dishes didn’t take him long, but before he headed back to the small guest room, he made a quick sweep of the house. First, he checked that all the windows were latched—of course, most of them weren’t—and then the locks on the front door.

When they were kids, the lake was a safe place, but after working as a cop and then a P.I., Rafe no longer trusted in that safety, not even in a sleepy little town like this. He couldn’t stand the thought of anything happening to Brooke as a lone woman on a mostly deserted stretch of road off the lake. First thing tomorrow he’d pick up some better locks at the hardware store.