“I like it. Grab a handful.”
He does, but instead of spreading it around the floor, he tosses a clump straight at me.
“Hey.” I retaliate, flinging a sparkling handful at his chest. It sticks to his shirt and catches on his five o’clock shadow. Ridiculous. And playful. Not something I expected out of him.
The next handful he aims higher, tossing it above my head. Silver strands drift through the air, falling like shooting stars all around me.
“This is a terrible idea.” But it’s fun and I start laughing so hard my face hurts. “It’ll take forever to clean this up.”
“Life’s messy, darlin’. Sometimes that’s a good thing.” His hand slips around my waist, drawing me close to his body. He lifts me and spins me in a slow, dizzying circle.
“What are we doing?” I whisper.
“We’re dancing.” His breath floats across my skin, soft and warm.
He hums something slow, a tune I don’t recognize. He guides my hand to his shoulder, and we sway—lazy and close. The twinkling lights above and the shimmering tinsel at our feet feel like magic.
My pulse skips. I tilt my head, and his lips find mine—gentle, then deeper. His hand slides up my spine, over my ribs, fingers splaying along my side, possessive and wanting. My lips part and I taste him—sweet and salty. The kiss builds slowly with heat curling through me, and every inch of my body tingling and on fire.
We draw back and I’m breathless and dizzy. He traces the edge of my jaw with his thumb. His gaze darkens, his expression more serious than before.
“I want you Coco.” The world narrows to the rasp of his voice. “If not now, tomorrow, next month?—”
“Now would be good.” I nod, breathless.
His mouth stretches into a wide smile. He sweeps me off my feet, tinsel scattering as he carries me toward the barn door. I clutch his shoulders, giggling like a school girl between kisses.
A flyaway piece of tinsel catches on my tongue as I pepper his neck with kisses. “We’re covered in this stuff.” I pull the strand away from my mouth.
His grin is pure sin and full of promise. “I plan on finding every strand.”
11
BEAU
I shoulderthe bedroom door closed with Coco in my arms, still laughing from the sprint up the porch. I place her on the edge of the bed, flushed, eyes shining, hair wild with a few silver sparkles. I hook a strand with my finger.
“Still sparkling,” I murmur. She smiles, stealing the ground from under my boots.
Clothes come off without ceremony, just quick work from eager hands. Her sweater slides overhead, her jeans down silken thighs. She giggles when my fingers fiddle too long with her bra clasp. But everything pays off when she lets out a soft gasp when my lips find the curve of her neck.
The lamplight turns her skin the color of summer and I have to press my palm to the mattress to steady the rush of emotion flooding my chest.
I kiss the places that learned to trust me today: the tense line of her shoulders, the hollow of her throat where her pulse is quick as a drum, the scarred map running the length of her thigh and calf that causes something fierce and protective to rise up in me. She threads her fingers into my hair and breathes my name like a whispered plea.
The bed sighs as I cage her with my body. Her hands skate along my back, and every arena, every bright light, every crowd roar, pales in comparison to her.
I find her mouth again, and she opens for me as if we’ve been practicing for this all our lives. She arches into me, deepening the kiss. My body roars and pulses until we’re both gasping, clinging to each other.
I pause to read her expression, making sure she’s okay. Her palm slides to my jaw, her thumb brushes my lower lip. She nods as if she reads my thoughts. Her foot slides up my calf until her knee rests on my hip, opening herself to me. And I make a solemn, silent vow to love and protect this woman for the rest of my life.
She reaches between our bodies and holds the weight of my throbbing cock in her palm. I groan into her mouth and feel her smile on my lips. She guides me to her center where she’s hot, slick, and damp.
I sink into her, testing and stretching. The first thrust is sheer heat as she welcomes my solid length. A low sound I hardly recognize slips from my throat. She shivers as I breathe her name in whispers. Her breath catches as I tilt into her with long, even strokes. I change the angle and her knees tip into me, edging me closer, deeper like a gatekeeper opening the doors of heaven.
I keep one hand tangled with hers, our fingers threaded in an unbreakable bond. The other finds her hip, learning her curves by heart. I set a slow rhythm and stay with her until her body answers mine—hips rising, a broken murmur on her lips.
When her breath stutters, I slow, then thrust again, patient yet greedy. She arches into me, her cry desperate as her nails scrape my ass, urging me to thrust deeper, harder. I give her everything I’ve got, willing myself to hold onto the thread of restraint that keeps me from tipping over the edge before her.
