Page 25 of Mistletoe Mischief

Pike shrugged. “You can only have one soul mate, right?”

“You believe in soul mates?” she asked, her stomach doing a little flip. It was such a romantic notion she wouldn’t expect from such a burly guy.

“Sure. There are people out there we can be happy with but only one person who truly matches us.” He leaned against the table with a heavy sigh. “Mine just seems to be eluding me.”

Ryler liked that he was only five inches or so taller, not a huge difference, so she didn’t have to break her neck to meet his eye.

She fiddled with the little plant in her hands, her mind screaming to turn back, but she ignored the warning. “So, you just hold this up above your head”—Ryler lifted her arm above them, dangling the leaves from her finger—“and you’re guaranteed a kiss?”

Pike’s gaze flicked from the mistletoe to her face, his expression unreadable. “Is that what you’re looking for out here?”

Ryler’s heart hammered at the gravelly edge in his voice, like the Big Bad Wolf tempting Little Red. “Yes.”

Pike hesitated, his gaze traveling over her face, and when it dipped to her lips, heat swirled in the pit of her stomach. His hand cupped the side of her neck, warm fingers tangling in her hair.

“What’s your name?” he whispered.

She smiled softly, stepping into him. “Does it matter?”

Ryler’s eyes fluttered as he dropped his head, soft lips crushing hers. The whiskers of his beard tickled her skin, and gooseflesh exploded along the surface. He tasted like whiskey, and she opened her mouth wider, taking his thrusting tongue. His hands slipped over her shoulders and down her back, pressing her body flush with his, and her nipples puckered against the cups of her bra. She arched closer, kissing him back, returning each drive of his tongue.

Shit, Pike can fucking kiss.

Ryler wrapped her arms around his shoulders, lost in his taste and touch. How long had it been since she’d made out like this? Since a man had made her lower back tingle and her body ache for more. Being physical with someone was about release, satisfactory and efficient, but the way Pike’s hands splayed against her back, gliding over her denim-covered hips, made her think there was something missing in her sex life.

She gasped when he lifted her onto a nearby chair, holding on to her thighs and stepping between her legs. She’d had a few one-night stands and on-the-road hookups, but this was the first time she’d ever initiated intimacy with a stranger. Ryler wasn’t sure what it was about Pike, but even before she’d seen him headed for the bar, his pictures, his profile, the way he talked about his friends and family had drawn her to him. To Mistletoe to meet him. While yes, the idea of a snowy, traditional Christmas setting for the podcast had sounded perfect, she could admit that meeting Pike had also been a draw.

Ryler locked her ankles against his back, relishing the hard bulge of his erection pressing into her. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had kissed her like he couldn’t get enough of her, and here was this virtual stranger giving her the type of kiss she’d only ever heard about.

Pike jerked his mouth from hers abruptly, his breath rushing out hard and fast across her lips. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“For what?” she whispered.

“You asked for a kiss and I practically assaulted you.”

Ryler tightened her ankles. “Trust me, if I didn’t want this, you’d be a sobbing heap on the ground.”

Pike chuckled. “Is that a fact?”

“Absolutely. I’ve taken over a dozen self-defense and martial arts courses. I could take you out with a well-placed finger.”

Pike brushed her hair back, grinning at her. “I think I’m already a goner.”

While the line was cheesy as hell, the emotional undertones of awe and desire matched her energy, and she brushed her lips over his. Ryler strayed from his mouth, exploring the skin of his neck, the lobe of his ear. His hands squeezed her thighs when she nipped at his pulse point, and she gasped when he rolled his hips, lust pulsating in her pussy.

“Seriously, what’s your name?” he murmured, one hand now cradling the back of her head. She leaned back into his hand, meeting his gaze and shooting him a saucy grin.

“Hmmm, guess.”

His lips grazed her cheek. “Stephanie.”

“Nope.”

He nipped at her earlobe, and she closed her eyes against the zing of pleasure. “Paula?”

“You’ll never guess.”

The hand still on her hip skimmed up her thighs, and dipped between her legs slowly, giving her ample time to say no. When he finally cupped her, his finger stroking her through her jeans, she arched against his caress with a low moan. Anyone could come out and discover them, but she didn’t care.