Page 34 of Naughty-ish

“Why didn’t you?” I ask, sheepishly glancing up at him.

“I don’t know.” A crease forms between his brows like he really doesn’t have an answer. “Thank goodness I bought you mistletoe.”

His mouth crashes mine again, not needing the plant as an excuse to kiss me. My fingers clutch his shirt while his hands move to my hair, fisting in the long length.

“You have no idea what I want to do to you,” he growls before kissing me harder, his tongue thrusting deeper.

I didn’t think any kiss could top the first one he gave me, but this one has my toes curling in my boots and my fingers tugging his Henley. He isn’t close enough.

“What do you want to do?” I finally mutter as we take a breath.

“Naughty things. Very naughty things.”

Chewing on my lower lip, I glance at him. “Like what?”

“Snowball,” he sighs, stealing Brock’s nickname. “You look angelic and innocent, and I’m the damn devil who wants to muddy you up.”

Yes, please.

“Nick.” His name is a desperate plea before his mouth is back on mine, kissing me with hungry lips and savoring licks. He moves to my neck, tugging on the scarf around it. I can’t seem to get it off fast enough. I’m choking on the flannel wrap, desperate for him to get to my skin.

Once his mouth meets my flesh, he sucks at a spot that triggers a rush of pleasure straight down my middle, like the rapid melting of snow. Or the rising flame of a wildfire.

Next, Nick presses off my jacket. “Put this on backward.”

I don’t understand what he means, until he spins me so my back hits his front. The inside of my coat covers my chest. Nick lifts my wrists to hold me steady against the brick wall I suddenly face. The heat of his body behind me is its own comforting wrap, keeping me warm as his hands skim around my waist and fist at my dress.

“Talking you through the other night. Listening to your soft hums and sharp breaths. God, I just wanted to be in the room and watch you like that damn elf on your shelf.”

I laugh at the sudden reference to the childish toy in my house.

“Only what I want to do to you is not safe for elves.”

Slowly, my dress is being dragged up my thighs, bunching toward my hip.

“Let me feel how hot you are, neighbor.” Tease and seduction in his voice fills my ear, stealing the oxygen in my lungs.

“That’s hot neighbor to you,” I joke breathlessly.

He nips hard at the juncture of my neck and shoulder. “You’re my neighbor,” he preens. “I want you all to myself.”

Well.

“Say yes, Holliday.” His fingers are underneath my dress and caressing the front edge of my hip, tempting me with how close he is to a sacred spot.

“Yes,” I exhale. Please, baby Jesus and all the saints in heaven, let this man touch me.

Nick’s hand slides forward, cupping me over my tights. He hisses. “Sizzling.”

I’d laugh if it didn’t sound so damn accurate.

“I want you to melt, snow lady.” He breathes into my neck. “And make a puddle against my fingers.” He licks along the column of my throat.

“Please,” I whimper. It’s been more than a year since I’ve been touched by someone else.

Nick moves his hand to dip into my tights and underwear, rushing over the mound and against sensitive folds. My knees give out again and I press my head momentarily to the cold brick before me.

Nick groans as his fingers dive into slick heat, dipping in until they can’t go any further. When he pulls back, I whimper, desperate for him to stay within my body. He doesn’t disappoint, filling me again and again before dragging to the edge and teasing my clit.