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And if he doesn’t feel the same? If I have to work here beneath the cloud of unrequited love—or worse—if Jace tells me I can’t work here anymore, because it would be too awkward . . . well . . . then at least I’ll know.
So I straighten my shoulders, and lift my chin, and look him right in his beautiful, midnight-blue eyes.
“Yes, it’s true. All of it. It’s been true for a long time. And if—”
Jace’s mouth comes down over mine. Hungry and hard and desperate.
It’s a kiss meant to claim. To own. To say Christmas is no longer a time for giving—it’s time to take.
And I’m his for the taking. I have been all along.
My soul sings and I wrap my arms around his neck, pressing against him. Jace’s hand delves into my hair, clutching and possessive, holding me where he wants me as he ravages my mouth.
He moves us backward, toward the bar and his mouth slides down my jaw, teeth scraping.
“Jace,” I pant. “What—”
He presses his finger against my lips, silencing my words. “No talking, baby. We’ll talk later, not now. The only words I want to hear out of your mouth now are yes, and more and my fucking name. Okay?”
And I’m really, really good with that.
I nod. “Yes.”
He stops then, and smiles at me. And despite the hungry look in his eyes, the smile is sweet and tender and loving. And every cell in my body lights up with the warmth and joy of this moment.
His strong hands lift me up onto the bar. He steps between my legs, cupping my face. Then there are more kisses, more lashing tongue and sucking lips—more taste of Jace, filling up every needy crevice inside me, making me moan.
My shirt is ripped off over my head. My bra is yanked off my shoulders—my breasts spilling free, baring me to his eyes. Jace steps back, his chest rising and falling with each deep rapid breath.
My first instinct is to cover myself. Because, I’m on the thin side—so to me, my boobs have never been my best asset. But the way Jace is looking at me keeps my arms right where they are. Because he’s looking at me like I’m perfect.
Like I’m the gift he wanted more than any other.
He moves forward and cups my breasts in his two hands, bending his head, laving the pale globes with his tongue and groaning against my skin.
“These tits . . . Jesus, you have no idea. Fucking years.”
The words are jagged and stuttered—but I understand their meaning. He likes my breasts.
A lot.
His mouth covers my nipple and he assaults the tight bud with harsh, relentless sucks. Sensation spikes up my spine and I gasp loudly.
I reach for his shirt, pulling it up. “Jace . . . Jace, I want . . . let me touch you.”
He doesn’t make me wait. Jace unlatches his mouth from my breast and pulls his shirt over his head—revealing ripples of taut, tan skin and the dark swirls of a tribal art tattoo across his pec.
And I almost come from the sight alone.
I skim my hands across his warm chest, down his abs, kissing and licking wherever I can reach. But then he’s stepping back, moving away, grabbing something from behind the bar.
It’s a bottle. A green bottle of champagne.
He sets it beside me, then tugs off my boots and in one swift move, strips off my jeans and lace panties. Leaving me bare on the bar.
His eyes meet mine—and he gives me a filthy smile that makes me shudder with anticipation. “Don’t have time to melt chocolate. We’ll save that for New Year’s Eve.” He reaches for the bottle, twisting the wire and popping the cork with a bang that sends white, liquid foam surging out. “This’ll do for now.”
The next several minutes of my life are filled with alternating gasps, squeals and moans—as Jace pours the cold, bubbling champagne over my body—my shoulders, my breasts, down my stomach, between my legs . . . and then he drinks up every fucking drop. Licking each trace from my heated skin. He’s very thorough.
Then he stands and brings the bottle to my lips.
“Open.”
He pours champagne into my mouth and I swallow, but not fast enough. It dripples from the corner of my lips and onto my chin.
And Jace’s eyes glow with wonderful, dirty ideas. He pulls me forward, kissing my mouth and sucking the champagne from my tongue.
Then he brings me to my feet. But not for long.
“On your knees, Evie.”
If I had any doubt that Jace read every word of my naughty list—those doubts are gone. Holding his eyes, I sink to my knees.
With sure, strong hands, Jace unbuckles his belt and takes out his cock. I only have seconds to admire it—but what I see makes me so hot and wet, I feel moisture coating my inner thighs. He’s thick and long, smooth and beautiful—a hard, delicious looking dick.
