Page 46 of Santa Baby

“Oh. Uh, yeah, actually.” I turned around before he could see the look on my face. I felt a blush spreading from my chest all the way up my neck, blooming with heat. It only grew hotter when one of his hands rested firmly on my hip and the other began to tug on the impossibly difficult zipper. His knuckles brushed against the bare skin of my back. The zipper finally came free, but he took his time, each zipper tooth giving away in the rhythm of my heart.

He was standing so close I could feel his thighs brushing against my ass. His breath hitched, and I swore I felt a shiver run through them when the dress went slack, the shockingly tight fabric sliding free off my hips.

But I didn’t step away. My eyes were closed. I felt everything—every beat of my heart. The soft touch of his fingers traveling up my bare spine. The slight tug of the pins being freed from my hair. My curls falling over my back.

I clutched the dress to my chest to prevent it from falling off completely. I wasn’t wearing a bra. The simple white thong I’d chosen for the occasion wasn’t anything special but suddenly felt like the most scandalous thing I’d ever worn in my life—because this was scandalous. The way he leaned in, his knuckles brushing my hair away from my neck so he could run his fingertips over my shoulder, the side of my neck, was beyond scandalous.

This wasn’t in his rule book. This wasn’t part of the series of events laid out in our shared calendar.

This was for us. He felt it. I felt it.

“Fia,” he rasped, his free hand splayed flat across my belly as he pulled me closer so my back was flush against his front. “You smell divine.”

He made a breathy sound in his throat as his lips pressed against the nape of my neck. I exhaled, my arms feeling heavy and numb, so much so that I forgot I was holding my dress up to cover my breasts.

It didn’t matter. I didn’t care. Just like he said to me on the deck, I did not care about the ramifications of this moment. I wanted this. I wanted it so badly I could feel the want simmering in my blood. Maybe I’d wanted this from him since the beginning. Call it morbid curiosity getting the best of me, but I had to know.

I had to know that this feeling—this pull—wasn’t just in my head.

My dress gathered around my waist. He sucked in a breath and let it out slowly as his hand touched my bare, heated skin.

I fought the self-consciousness bubbling up inside of me as his hands began to roam. I’d always been fuller—softer. More rounded. Mom had always pointed out the Grecian statues every time we visited the Met, mentioning how our body type had never, and would never, go out of style, but I grew up in a city of models and socialites. I hadn’t been a size zero since second grade.

But Mason gathered up my softness, kneading my full breasts, clutching my hips and grazing his palm over the soft swell of my stomach, all while groaning with approval in my ear. I lost myself to his heated, wanting touch. His desire was evident. My own desire began to flood through me, blurring the already gray lines we’d drawn between us.

All I knew—the only thing in my head—was that I wanted Mason O’Leary.

I wanted more than a kiss tonight.

My earlier uncertainties dissolved as he roughly turned me around. I stepped out of my dress, kicking it roughly to the side at the very moment his mouth crashed into mine. The kiss was hot, our teeth and tongues clashing as he tasted and explored. I was breathless as I unbuttoned his shirt, smoothing my hands over the taut, hard muscles of his chest, my fingers drifting through a soft covering of chest hair the same soft brown as his hair.

His hands cupped my ass and he lifted me up like I weighed nothing. I bit down on his lower lip and he groaned, a tremor running through both of us.

He laid me on the bed with gentleness I’d expected from him. I lifted up on my elbows as he stepped away from the edge of the bed, loosening his tie.

“Mason?” I started to cover my breasts, but he shook his head.

“Let me look at you.”

His face was flushed as he slid his tie free and discarded it on the floor. His shirt was hanging off his shoulders, his skin a ruddy pink against the tan leftover from what must have been a somewhat recent vacation. He looked so different. His eyes flared with a new emotion—hunger, I realized, the thought sending fresh desire tingling through my back and lower belly.

“You’re fucking beautiful,” he grated out, his eyes mapping every inch of my body before they met mine with a hazy, broken expression behind them.

“Come to bed,” I whispered, but he shook his head.

I didn’t have time to feel crushed. Reality didn’t have a chance to settle deep before he stalked toward the bed and knelt, smoothing his warm, callused hands up my bare thighs. I shuddered, closing my eyes to focus on the way his touch set every connection in my brain ablaze.

He pressed a kiss to the apex of my thighs. My eyes opened wide.

“Tell me no,” he rasped, low in his throat. “Tell me no, and I’ll stop. I’ll stop wanting you if you just tell me no.” His fingers brushed between my thighs. “But, Fia, I’ve been dying to do this. You have no idea how often the image of you laid out just like this has crossed my mind. I think about it all the time.”

My brain shut down completely. The only thing I could see and feel was him. His touch was soft. I needed more. I wanted him to leave marks on my skin. I wanted the bruises he left to sting. I wanted him to leave his mark on my body. I’d wear the scar proudly.

“Please,” I whimpered, choking back a moan. He ran his knuckles up my thigh.

I trusted him. He wouldn’t hurt me. He would stop if I came back to my senses and told him no, that I didn’t want this. But I wanted it so badly.

He pulled my underwear down my thighs, cursing something dark and needy under his breath, then hooked his arms beneath my legs. His tongue parted my folds in a rough stroke, nibbling at the gentle, sensitive skin. He released one thigh to rub circles over my clit with his thumb, tapping and pressing, using the feral, primitive sounds coming from my throat to judge his next movements.