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His hand was suddenly on my arm, his fingertips squeezing my skin, demanding my attention. I swallowed hard, trying not to focus on how his touch sent chills down every part of my skin.
“Ivy, look at me.”
I did as he’d asked. Hell, I couldn’t remember a time when I didn’t acquiesce to his every request.
“Are you coming in or not?” I asked again, this time facing him and looking right into his eyes, daring him to follow through on all the things he’d said in the car ride over.
“If you’ll let me.”
A loud, “HA,” escaped from deep within my throat because that statement had to be a joke. This man knew I’d let him do anything he wanted.
“If I find my keys,” I complained, and he reached for my purse, taking it out of my lap and checking the side pocket before pulling them free.
“Found ’em,” he said with a smug look and an arrogant half-smile.
My brain kept screaming at me that we were finally going to kiss Saint LaCroix. What if he was bad at it? I almost giggled out loud. That wasn’t allowed to be a possibility, so I told my brain to shush.
I hopped out of the warmth of his car and into the freezing air. The wind whipped my skirt around, and I almost cursed him for making me wear this while he was bundled up in layers of Santa gear.
The sound of the locks engaging on his car hit my ears right before his horn beeped once.
“Let’s get you inside.” He was suddenly at my side, his arms wrapped around my middle as we rushed toward the entrance.
Once inside the building, he followed me up the long wooden staircase toward my front door. My apartment was on the second level of a two-story structure and had the best views of the lake without being accessible by drunken tourists or locals. Since I lived alone, it felt safer than being on the ground floor.
The long walk up the stairs also gave Saint time to second-guess what he was doing here or talk himself out of doing it. Two things I hoped he didn’t give in to. I unlocked and pushed open my front door, and the smell of pine hit my nose. My Christmas tree was in the corner of the living room, the top of it pressing against the ceiling and folding over. I’d been so proud of it when I bought it the other day, determined to make it fit even though it clearly didn’t.
“It smells so good in here,” Saint said from behind me as I put my purse down on the countertop in the kitchen.
“It’s the tree.” I waved a hand toward my tall beauty.
His hand was on my arm again, turning me around to face him. I sucked in a breath with the contact and waited for him to take the lead. Without warning, he was gripping my face between his fingertips, his thumb tracing lines down the side of my cheek and across my bottom lip. I closed my eyes and leaned in to him, craving more.
“I’ve wanted to do this for years,” he said, and my eyes popped open just in time to see him moving in for the kill.
His mouth was on mine, his lips soft and tentative at first before quickly turning into something more demanding and less controlled. His tongue forced its way inside my mouth, and I opened for him, giving him the access that he desired. That kiss was like an inferno, blazing to life with just one strike of the match. So many years of longing exploded between us, and we couldn’t seem to keep our hands off each other.
Rough fingers were on my ass, under my skirt, then on my back, pulling my hair out of the ponytail it was in, and then back on my ass again, squeezing me hard enough to leave bruises. It was like he couldn’t keep them in one place for too long or they might get stuck there. With every move, however, he never stopped kissing me. Our mouths never broke contact. We were fused together, our tongues touching and pulling back in some kind of dance, our mouths opening and closing as we breathed the same air.
“God, Ivy.”
His words were hot against me, and I did the unthinkable and pulled away. It was only to tease him though, and I ran my hands down the length of my body before pulling my shorts and panties off from underneath my skirt and dropping them to the floor.
Saint looked like he might attack me at any moment, his eyes filled with lust as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Was I making this man drool? I sure as hell hoped so. Reaching for the buttons on the elf costume top, I undid them one by one. His jaw slacked open as he finally looked at my boobs spilling out from inside my lace bra instead of my eyes.
It’s about time. Only took him a hundred years.
“You’ll be the death of me,” he said.
I felt spurred on even more with his admission. Confidence soared through me.
“When did you realize?” I asked, wanting at least that answer before we took this any further.
“Realize what?”
His blue eyes were still focused on parts of my body instead of my face, and I reveled in it. I’d tried so hard as a kid to get him to look at my figure, and now, when I’d given up that game, he couldn’t seem to get enough.
“That you had feelings for me,” I said before growing uncomfortably nervous, my confidence disappearing as quickly as it had shown up.
