Kissing Under the Mistletoe

Unfortunately, considering that her brother hadn’t even stepped up to the meaningful-relationship plate enough to admit to Mia that he and Brooke were an item, she knew better than to hold out too much hope.

Sighing, she flipped on the radio and was planning to zone out for the rest of the drive when a new song came on that had her entire body stiffening.

Adam startet tapping out the beat on the steering wheel. "This is such a great so—"

She flipped the radio off just as the song was about to hit the chorus.

"Why’d you turn it off?"

"I have a migraine. The music was hurting my head."

She almost never got headaches, but Adam didn’t know that, so thankfully he didn’t ask why she’d had such a strong reaction to the song.

Mia’d had five years to get over it. To get over him. She should be able to listen to his songs, at the very least, without her stomach twisting...without the memories she’d never been able to forget assaulting her.

Chapter Fourteen

Rafe’s brother and sister were finally gone, which meant he and Brooke were finally free to rip off each other’s clothes and pick up where they’d left off the night before. But he couldn’t stop feeling that he’d already pushed her too far, too fast, by taking her the way he had in the linen closet. It didn’t help that they hadn’t had any time alone during the day to talk so that he could gauge how she was feeling...or whether she had changed her mind.

Forty-eight hours ago, he’d been certain that they should curb their attraction to preserve their friendship. Even though all they’d had so far was fifteen stolen minutes of passion, he knew it wasn’t even close to being that simple anymore.

Friends. Lovers. Next-door neighbors.

Family.

Brooke was already all of those things to him.

The soft lapping of the water on the lakeshore suddenly seemed too loud as the silence drew out between them in her kitchen. Rafe was never nervous. Not when he was doing dangerous undercover work, and certainly not when he was with a woman.

But being alone in the kitchen with a beautiful girl with big green eyes had his heart thumping hard and fast in his chest.

If he was a gentleman, if he had any honor at all, he’d let her say whatever it was that had her worrying her lower lip between her teeth, and then give her space if that was what she wanted. But nothing could have stopped him from reaching for her. He simply had to hold her, had to feel her soft skin heat up beneath his fingertips, had to feel her shudder at his touch.

Only, for the first time, she didn’t lean into him, didn’t press her cheek to his or slide her arms around his neck. He could feel her heart beating just as hard as his was.

"Your sister—"

"Likes to poke her nose in where it doesn’t belong."

Brooke looked far too serious. He wanted her to smile again, wanted so badly to see her cheeks flush with pleasure before her lids fluttered shut the way they always did when he kissed her.

"She loves you," Brooke said as she gazed up at him. Her gaze was full of desire, but there was worry there, too. "I’ve longed to be wild for so long that when I saw you again, I lost sight of anything else. I lost sight of the fact that friends should always look out for each other. I’ve only been thinking about myself, about what I want. You tried a dozen different ways out on the beach to keep your distance, to explain why we shouldn’t do this, but I wouldn’t listen. I didn’t want to listen to what you wanted, because I was so busy thinking about myself."

"How many times do I have to tell you that I’m dying to be with you, Brooke? How many different ways do I have to show you?" His words were hard-edged with frustration, his hands flexing on the upper curves of her hips as he pulled her closer. "Hell, I wanted you so damned bad last night that I locked you in a closet and took exactly what I wanted. I told you it was for you, that I was there to soothe your ache, but it was for me, Brooke. Me. Because I couldn’t wait one more goddamned second to feel you, to taste you."

"I couldn’t wait, either," she told him, but even as she tried to absolve him of his guilt, he knew he had plenty to make up to her.

"Our first time together shouldn’t have been that fast, that rushed. Let me make it up to you."

Her breath was coming faster now, her br**sts pressing sensuously against his chest as she gazed up at him. He was surprised when her mouth curved into a small smile a moment later.

"We’re both being silly, aren’t we, arguing over which one of us has been more selfish? Maybe," she said with a slow smile that transformed her face into a beauty that took his breath away, "we could argue, instead, over who can give the other person more pleasure tonight?"

The weight that had been pressing on his chest all day finally began to lift as he smiled down at her.

"We’re not going to argue about anything at all," he said as he slid his hands down her hips to cup her soft curves. "Because tonight is going to be all about you. All about your pleasure. All about your needs."

He could feel her heartbeat speed up against his chest as she said huskily, "I like that idea. A lot. Only, last night I never did get to—"

He covered her mouth with his before she could remind him of what she’d been about to do in the linen closet. The problem was, that vision of her starting to drop to her knees in front of him had burned into his retinas, and he’d been hard as a rock thinking about it nearly every minute since last night.