The Trouble with Mistletoe

Without skipping a beat or taking his mouth off of her, he reached one hand up and tugged his shirt over his head. This did momentarily rip his mouth from her heated skin, but the moment he was free of the shirt, he went back to loving her with his mouth.

She could feel him now, all of him. “When did you lose the rest of your clothes—Oh my God,” she cried out, eyes crossing with lust when he did something in combination with his teeth, his tongue, and his fingers. “Don’t stop doing that.”

“Never,” he promised as he played with her, teasing her to the very edge. But just as she felt her toes start to curl, he stopped and she cried out.

He only flashed a wicked smile, not at all concerned that he was a fraction of an inch from certain death for leaving her hanging like that. Leaning up over her, he gave her one hard kiss and then hooked his long fingers in the sides of her panties, tugging them down her legs, sending them sailing over his shoulder without taking his eyes off of her.

And what he’d exposed.

“Oh, Willa. Christ.” His big hands held her thighs open. “You’re so gorgeous.” Surging up, he kissed her mouth, his hands still tormenting her, the sensations skittering down her every nerve ending with a little zing, driving her back to the edge she’d never really left. She dug her fingers into his biceps.

“If you stop again—”

“I won’t.” And true to his word, he continued the assault, the sexy bastard, slowly kissing his way south, stopping at her belly button to take a little nibble out of her, making her squirm.

Laughing softly against her, he tightened his grip on her hips, holding her still so he could drive her crazy. This involved his mouth taking the scenic route, where he alternately dragged his tongue along her heated skin and stopped once every other breath or so to take a little love bite.

“Keane!”

He lifted his head, his eyes dark, so dark she nearly drowned in them. “Last time we did this your way,” he said. “It’s my turn now. My way, Willa.”

She swallowed hard at the heat and fierce intensity of his low voice. “And your way is to torture me?”

He flashed another wicked grin. “To start.”

With a groan, she flopped back to the bed, arms over her head.

“Yeah, I like that,” Keane said and reached up, stroking his hands along her arms to her fingers, which he wrapped around the bottom rung of the headboard. “Don’t let go.” Then he held her open, groaned at the visual, and licked the length of her center.

Willa got a little fuzzy on the details after that but they involved her moaning his name nonstop and fisting her hands in his hair, and after a shockingly short time, coming apart for him.

Completely.

His body was hard and muscular and felt amazing against hers and she forced her eyes to open to take in as much as possible because this was absolutely going to have to be it. She couldn’t do this again with him and not hopelessly fall. In fact, she was only half convinced that she could resist doing so this time.

Braced on his forearms on either side of her head, he looked down at her. A lock of hair fell over his forehead, his eyes dark with heat and sexy concentration, his mouth still wet. The sight of him took her breath.

God, he was the beautiful one, she thought dazedly. Simply beautiful. Reaching up, she traced his bottom lip with a fingertip and then tugged him closer so she could suck that lower lip into her mouth.

He gave a half groan, half growl as she slid her tongue into his mouth, sliding it along his.

“Love the taste of you,” he said and thrust inside of her.

She cried out and arched up to meet him, unable to figure out when he’d put on a condom, but grateful one of them was thinking with something other than their pleasure buttons.

Above her, Keane’s eyes drifted shut, his expression uninhibited pleasure.

He took her breath.

He had one arm beneath her shoulders to anchor her, the other gripping her ass as if he needed to be as close as possible. When he began to move, it was in a slow, lazy grind, like he had all the time in the world to love her.

But he didn’t. Given the lump in her throat, they were on a time crunch now, before panic hit. So she shoved him, rolling him to his back. To his credit, he went easily, flashing a wolf smile.

“Your turn?” he asked huskily, his voice pure sex.

Not wasting her breath with words, she rocked her hips, fast and hard.

“Yeah,” he murmured, filling his hands with her breasts. “Your turn.”

Then he became the backseat driver, reaching between them, touching her intimately, knowingly, causing her to explode all over him.

While she was still dazed, she felt his hands shift her, snugging her inner thighs tighter to the outsides of his, causing him to fill her even more, taking her on an out-of-body experience. And this time when she began to convulse around him, he followed her over the edge.

Early the next morning, Willa came awake all warm and toasty, her face smooshed into the crook of Keane’s neck. He was flat on his back, out cold, and she . . . well, she was all over him.

Petunia was no better, having made herself at home on his feet.

Willa put a finger to her lips and very carefully eased away and dashed into her bathroom. She caught a look at herself in the mirror and blinked at the flushed, dazed expression on her face. Was she . . . smiling? Damn, she was. She tried to turn it into a frown but couldn’t. She literally couldn’t.

That’s when she noticed the duffel bag on the floor. Keane must’ve brought it in last night when he’d run out to his truck to get his phone charger somewhere around midnight.

The bag was unzipped and she accidentally-on-purpose took a peek inside. Extra clothes. A toothbrush. Deodorant.

In her hand, her phone beeped and scared her half into an early grave. “Hello?” she whispered.

“Hey,” Elle said. “I—”

“He’s got a one-night-stand kit!” she whispered.

Elle paused. “Who has a what?”

Willa shut the bathroom door, leaned back against it, and let her weak legs collapse, sliding down the door until she was sitting on the floor. “Keane,” she said. “He showed up here last night to pick up Petunia and now I’m in the bathroom looking at a duffel bag full of his stuff that—”

“Whoa. You can’t just go from last night to this morning without more details than that! What’s the matter with you? I want the good stuff. You slept with him again?”