Kissing Under the Mistletoe

Her legs were trembling like crazy, but he was holding her perfectly steady with one hand around her waist, the other caressing the side of her hip.

His dark eyes flicked up to her face. "Brooke?"

She’d never done this with any other man—stood naked before him while he knelt at her feet and asked if he could put his mouth on her. But with Rafe, there was no fear, no embarrassment, no worries. Only need...and a whispered, "Please."

But when Rafe leaned forward and slicked his tongue over her, she realized the ache she’d had earlier was nothing compared to the way he was making her feel now with the slow lash of his tongue, the sweet press of his fingers inside her. It was as if he knew her body better than she did herself—exactly where to stroke, precisely how to caress. Nothing existed but the two of them in this moment of perfect pleasure, and oh, how she wished she could stay in this moment just a little while longer to truly savor every delicious burst of sensation. But the way he was touching her—kissing her—felt too good...and she’d been waiting too long for him to have that kind of control.

Just as her inner muscles started to clench around him, she whispered "Rafe," in an urgent voice. Continuing the hard thrust of his fingers inside of her while his thumb stroked over her clitoris, he quickly stood up so that he could cover her mouth with his and swallow her cries of pleasure.

Brooke bucked against his hand as her climax took over every last cell. And though her body finally settled against his after the incredible orgasm, he kept kissing her as if he couldn’t get enough. He continued to stroke gently over her sensitive flesh when he finally lifted his mouth from hers.

"Better?"

She couldn’t yet find her voice to tell him how good he’d made her feel, but she could reach for him to curve her fingers over the thick erection throbbing behind his jeans.

"A little better," she whispered as he pushed his hips hard into her hand, and she reached for his zipper. The last thing she expected him to do next was slide his hand from between her legs and take a step away from her.

"You don’t know how badly I want you to keep doing that, but there’s no way you’ll be able to keep me quiet."

Brooke didn’t care anymore about keeping quiet. All she wanted to do was touch him the way he’d touched her, taste him the way he’d tasted her. She was halfway to her knees when they heard the front door creak open.

"It’s not fair," she protested when he pulled her to her feet.

"Since it was my stupid idea to wait twenty-four hours, I deserve the punishment of waiting for you to touch me, too."

Before she could tell him that was utter nonsense—and that she needed his pleasure just as much as he did—he was handing her her clothes. He gave her one last, hard kiss before he grabbed the stack of clean sheets.

And left her aching for him more than ever.

Chapter Thirteen

Rafe ripped out another strip of the nasty old linoleum with both hands. Up since five that morning, he’d already cleared the old flooring out of most of the house. He should have felt satisfaction at finally making some serious headway, but his gut churned whenever he thought about what he’d done to Brooke the night before.

He’d locked her in a closet, stripped off her clothes in record time, and had feasted on her...all with his siblings barely a hundred feet away. Not only had he known she was nervous about having Mia and Adam so close by, but their first time together should have been special. She was the kind of woman who deserved roses and candlelight, wooing and soft words. He’d vowed to keep control of his baser urges with her, but he hadn’t been able to hold to that for even five freaking seconds.

One taste of her mouth, one stroke of his hands over her naked skin, and he’d lost any hope of control.

And yet, Rafe had felt a connection with Brooke that he’d never felt with anyone else. Even in the cramped room, knowing they had to stay quiet and with no more than a handful of minutes together, every kiss she’d given him had rocked more than just his body. Every taste of her had only made him hungrier for more, for the chance to lay her down on a bed and take all the time in the world to learn her beauty, her scent, her sweetness, from head to toe.

Adam walked inside just as Rafe finished pulling out the last of the old flooring. "Boy, am I glad I went for a swim this morning. Never did like pulling up linoleum. You should have come out swimming with the rest of us. It felt really good to jump into the lake."

Rafe hadn’t trusted himself around Brooke in her bikini, so he’d locked himself in the house with dirty linoleum instead. Now he took the cup of coffee his brother handed him and drank it down in one big, hot gulp.

"Can I use your truck to go pick up some new flooring and kitchen cabinets?"

"Sure. I’ll go with you."

The brothers were halfway to the hardware store when Adam finally addressed the white elephant in the truck. "You were inside ‘helping’ Brooke for quite a while last night."

Rafe hadn’t been surprised when his sister had called him on the situation last night. But his brother wasn’t exactly big on talking about feelings. Of course, Rafe knew Adam wasn’t talking about feelings now, either. Sex was all his brother cared about. Normally, Rafe would have agreed wholeheartedly.

But Brooke was different.

"Whatever you’re going to say next," Rafe told Adam in a warning tone, "I’d be careful about it."

His brother’s eyebrows went up. "In that case, I guess getting the details on just how hot she is without her—"