The Trouble with Mistletoe

Keane liked the visuals.

She broke the kiss. “You need to stimulate her,” she managed. “That’s important in kitty care.”

Keane arched a brow.

She gave a head jerk to the door, signaling that they were probably being eavesdropped on.

He looked at her for a long beat, his eyes dark and unreadable. “Kitty care,” he repeated and before she could blink, he’d lifted her up and plopped her ass onto her desk and then stepped between her legs. His mouth was at her ear now, his voice so soft as to be almost inaudible. “You want me to stimulate your pussy.”

She choked out a laugh and tried to shove free, but he tightened his grip. “You know that’s not what I meant!” she whispered. “Rory’s fragile right now and we have to make her feel safe.”

“She is safe,” he said in her ear. “And so are you.” And then he smiled again, a very naughty smile as he raised his voice a little, to a conversational pitch. “Okay, so talk me through this . . . stimulation.” He pressed his mouth to her ear again, using his bad-boy voice in a barely audible whisper. “Tell me slowly, and in great detail.”

She shoved him again but he still didn’t budge.

“I miss your body wrapped around mine,” he said softly, serious now. “I need you wrapped around me again.”

Her heart softened. There was a problem with this, she knew it way in the back of her head, but God help her, she couldn’t articulate anything with his hands on her to save her life. Tightening her fingers in his shirt, she tugged.

He fell into her and his big body shook with laughter as he set a warm palm on either side of her hips and lowered his face to hers.

“Keane—”

“I know the rules now. This doesn’t mean anything, it’s just a one-time turned three-time thing, etc., etc. . . .”

She snorted and he smiled. “Hush now, Willa,” he murmured, setting a finger over her lips. “Not a sound.” His hands slid into the back of her jeans to cup and squeeze her ass. She started to moan and Keane bit her lower lip.

Right. Not a sound.

But the brutal strength in his embrace had her breathless as she twined her arms around his neck, pressing her breasts against his chest, because if they didn’t get skin to skin in the next few seconds, she was going to spontaneously combust.

Somehow he managed to wrestle her boots off. And then popped open her jeans. When he slid a hand between her legs and stroked her over her panties, she had a moment’s panic.

“What?” he asked when she froze.

“You have to promise not to look. I’m not in cute undies. In fact . . .” She grimaced. This was going to be embarrassing. “I’m wearing my ugliest ones. They’re my willpower panties. I wear them so I won’t show them to anyone. In this case, you. You’re the anyone.”

He stared at her and then tossed his head back and laughed. He looked so utterly sexy she lowered her guard, which was how he got her jeans halfway down.

“I know I’m totally sending mixed signals,” she managed. “But it’s not like I stopped wanting you—”

“Good.”

“But . . .”

He groaned. “It’s always the but that gets you.”

“But,” she continued, needing to get this out. “I’m . . . a little mixed up—”

He slid her a wry look. “A little?”

She tried to close her legs, not easy with a hundred and eighty pounds of muscle standing between them.

“Shh,” he said again, somehow both gentle and badass at the same time. “I’ve got you, Willa. I get you. For now, this works. You always work for me, however I can have you.”

And on that emotionally stunning statement, he dropped to his knees, tugged her jeans the rest of the way off, and looked. And he took his sweet-ass time about it too. He was grinning when he rose to his full height again. “I like them.”

“You’re a sick man,” she managed.

“There’s no doubt,” he agreed and kissed her some more, until she was back to squirming, in the very best way now.

“Hurry,” she murmured breathlessly against his mouth and together they freed each other’s essentials.

And good God, there was nothing like Keane’s essentials . . . She was very busy filling her hands with him when his stubbly cheek rasped across her bare nipples and she nearly came on the spot. His mouth was everywhere, wild, fast, and she kissed him back as best as she could while still trying to get him inside her.

He laughed low in his throat but before she could kill him for that, he managed to drop to his knees again and get his mouth on her.

A minute ago he’d been in a huge rush and she still was, but now he held her down and took his time driving her insane with his tongue, and when she lost it, when she began to come, he rose up and covered his mouth with hers, swallowing her cry as he protected them both and then thrust inside her.

Their pace was frantic, desperate. Hungry. It didn’t matter how many times they were together like this, Keane never failed to steal the very air from her lungs. She felt herself come again, or still . . . she had no idea. With Keane it was always one endless and erotic beat in time.

When she could finally see and hear again, she realized his face was snuggled into the curve of her neck, his breath puffing against her skin like a soft caress. One hand was drifting up and down her back, slowly, gently, helping her to calm, his other hand cupping her jaw, his thumb on her lips reminding her to be quiet.

Oh, God. Had she been quiet? She couldn’t remember!

He grinned and she bit his finger. Hard.

Laughing softly, he straightened and then helped her off the desk. Her damn knees wobbled and he tightened his grip, pulling her into him, cuddling her into him.

She felt his lips brush her temple, and his hand stroked the hair from her eyes. Then that hand took hers and brought it to his mouth. She could feel the warmth of his breath on her skin and the gesture felt so . . . intimate, even more so than having him buried deep inside her. “That was . . .” She paused, searching for the right word.

“Kitty care at its finest?”

She tried not to laugh and failed. “Keane,” she said softly. “What the hell are we doing?”

He slowly shook his head. He didn’t know either. “I just needed to see you,” he said simply.