Kissing Under the Mistletoe

Maybe it was better that way. Since he had such a big thing about not wanting to "strip away her innocence," she’d take any room for potential guilt out of his hands by stripping it away herself.

Perhaps it was knowing just how powerfully he’d been moved by her sexy lingerie that made it feel perfectly natural to drop to her knees in front of him. She couldn’t help but smile at the way he was frowning down at her.

"Brooke—"

"Shhh," she said to him, just as he’d done with her when they were in the shower and she’d been begging him not to tease her. She didn’t need to feel him beneath the zipper of his jeans to know how hard he was, but when she undid his fly and slowly slid his jeans down, though she’d already been with him more than once, she was surprised all over again at just how big he was. Her mouth already watering, she didn’t just pull down the denim, but made sure to bring his boxers down, too.

"Oh, Rafe." She didn’t try to hide her delight at just how beautiful he was.

One of her hands rose automatically to wrap around him, and he throbbed hard once, then twice against her palm and fingers. "Come to the bed with me, Brooke."

But she didn’t want to do that—not unless he was willing to play with her the way she guessed he’d played with his other lovers. In some ways, she knew she had more of him than any of his previous lovers had—their friendship, their past, their family connections. But in others she knew she had less.

She wouldn’t settle for that, darn it, whatever good reasons he thought he had for the way he was behaving, for believing she couldn’t handle his darker desires…or her own. She wouldn’t go so far as to ask him for forever tonight, but she was going to ask for this.

When she let go of him, she knew he assumed it was because she was going to do what he’d just said and move to the bed. Instead, she picked up the silks she’d dropped to the floor when he’d been kissing her earlier. Still on her knees before him, she held them up and gave him one more chance.

"If I get on the bed, will you put these on me?"

No one had ever looked more conflicted than Rafe did in that moment, and she almost felt bad for him. Almost, but not quite. Because if he could only let go of his silly insistence on treating her "carefully"—along with his constant worries that he was going to hurt her in some way—she was certain that both of them would uncover something new. And spectacularly pleasurable.

Finally, with the muscle in his jaw jumping, he said, "I won’t put those on you."

"Not even as a blindfold?"

Frustration lit his dark eyes, the same frustration he was making her feel with his stubborn belief that she was too sweet, too innocent for these kinds of sexy games.

"No."

"Okay," she said softly, "I just thought of a better use for them, anyway."

Sitting back on her heels, she lifted her hands to her hair. The thick strands were completely dry now, but still heavy as she gathered them up.

"Look," she added in a husky voice, "I can put them on all by myself."

She could see that he now realized she’d gotten off—and was about to get them both off—on a technicality. But it wasn’t good enough for him to simply watch her wind the silks around her hair. She also needed him to know precisely why she was doing it.

"This way," she said softly as she tied the first knot in the soft fabric, "you’ll have a really good view."

"View?" The one word from his beautiful mouth was strangled. Borderline desperate.

"Yes," Brooke replied, certain that he wanted this just as much as she did. In any case, he’d left her no choice but to take matters into her own hands—and mouth, too. A rush of heat hit her at the thought of what she was finally about to do. "Your view of me doing this."

A moment later he was on her tongue, and she was moaning from the pleasure of finally tasting his hard, hard flesh. He tasted so good that she found herself growing greedier with every inch of him she took inside her mouth. And, oh, how she loved it when he wrapped his hand in the silk binding around her hair to hold her just where he wanted her as he grew bigger, hotter, with every slick of her tongue over him.

Somehow, through the blood rushing in her ears, she heard him growling her name before he gave himself up completely to her mouth, her hands. She drank in his pleasure as if it were her own, and her lips would have curved up in a full smile if they weren’t already wonderfully occupied.

A short while later, when he tugged at her silk-bound ponytail and she rose to her feet, the ends of the silk were sticking to the damp skin between them.

"Promise me you’ll never wear these in your hair again unless we’re in the bedroom."

She made a show of considering his question. "Do you really think anyone else will know they aren’t just pretty silk scarves?"

"I don’t give a damn what anyone else knows. I’d know, damn it. I’d know what you did to me while you were wearing them in your hair. I’d know the way you actually smiled as I did that to you."

Of course, that made her smile even wider. "Can I help it if you make me happy?"

That light she was starting to see more and more sparked in the back of his eyes as he slid the silks from her hair.

"Promise me, or these go into the next bonfire."

"I promise I’ll only wear them for you."

A split second later she was on the bed beneath him, and he was swearing he’d buy her more lingerie as he grabbed the lace and silk she was wearing and tore it off. She was thrilled by his rough, desperate possession, soon there were no more questions from either of them, no room for anything but sighs of pleasure and gasps of ecstasy as they wrapped themselves around each other.