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And maybe he can.
Maybe he can see exactly how much I want this, because my name rasps low from his throat, and he pulls me in hard. Our mouths meet in a kiss that’s pure combustion. Nothing tentative now. No hesitation. Just heat and need and a kind of maddening relief that somehow leaves me desperate for more.
Opening beneath the crush of his lips, I welcome his tongue, meet it with my own in a tangled, wet glide that sends heat spiraling through me, gathering in an achy knot deep in my center.
Our hands are everywhere, our bodies pressing closer and closer. My needy whimpers filling the air.
“Didn’t want to push you, make you uncomfortable by hitting on you.” He breathes against the side of my neck before closing his lips over the sensitive skin and sucking. “But, Christ, I’ve been losing my mind trying to be good.”
Our mouths meet again, the kiss searing. He licks into my mouth, giving me his tongue in a slow thrust that has my hips moving restlessly against his.
His hands go to my hair, and he frees the mess of it, letting it spill down around my shoulders. One hand sifts into the strands while the other moves to my ass, kneading it with a firm touch that leaves me gasping, desperate for more.
“Mistletoe,” he pants against my lips. “Tell me if you want me to slow down, to stop.”
Stop?
I’ve never been casual about sex. I don’t judge those who are. It’s just not how I’m wired. But this, right now?
I shake my head. “I don’t think I could stop if my next breath depended on it.”
His lips curve against mine, his powerful arms pulling me tighter into his hold. “No?”
My arms link around his neck, and I shake my head.
He straightens to his full height, lifting me so my toes leave the floor. “What do you want?”
For a heartbeat, I imagine something real and lasting. I imagine years of laughter and tree farms instead of just this one. But if ever there was a guy who wasn’t aboutserious, it’s the man who invited me to Vegas within thirty seconds of meeting me and then spent the better part of the day referencing our engagement.
Noel isn’t serious.
And I don’t care becauseNoel is fun.
This day, tonight, every minute leading up to me suspended in this perfect heated bubble… has beenfun. And I want all of it.
“I want you, Noel.”
He lets out a low groan and runs that huge hand down my side, past my waist and hip, all the way to my thigh. One nudge, and I’m wrapping my legs around him tight, sifting my fingers into the damp hair at his neck, and then gasping as my back meets the fridge.
Arching, I press my shoulders into the door and my hips into the countering roll of his.
God, I can feel him between my legs. That thick, steely pressure a decadence it’s been almost two years since I’ve had.
We shudder together, mouths fused, hearts pounding. Our eyes meet and we still. And within that single beat, the low electric charge that’s been running between us, sparking with each touch and look, arcs hot and dangerous, connecting us once more.
6
Noel
Holy hell, this kiss.
It’s hot and wet and greedy, and so fucking perfect I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to stop. Misty’s whimpering around each thrust of my tongue, her fingers knotting tight in my hair like she can’t get enough.
Shifting my hold, I turn us a hundred and eighty degrees to set her on the edge of the empty island. I kiss her again and grind into her heat one more time before pulling back enough to get my hand between us.
“Mistletoe, baby.” I run my nose along the line of her neck to her ear. “These jeans are hot as hell on you, but they’ve got to go.”
Evergreen eyes meet mine. Biting those kiss-swollen lips, she gives a nod and lifts her hips for me. I get her jeans off and toss them over the kitchen chair I was sitting in before. And when I turn around—
