“I don’t need dinner to kiss you.” She pointed to the flowers on her dress. “Mistletoe.”
He took a moment to process what she’d said then grinned. “We mustn’t break tradition.” He swept her into his arms, lifting her, holding her close.
She cupped his face, nibbling and sucking at his mouth, her breath hot and minty. The feel of her curves was soft and pleasing. She parted her lips and invited his tongue. Twined it with his. Sucked at him, and he felt it down to his fucking toes.
But mostly in his cock. He throbbed something fierce.
The woman could kiss, but he wanted more than that.
The bed was close, the window even closer. He pressed her against it, hands grabbing at her full ass, kneading it. He ground himself against her, wanting nothing more than to strip and slide into her.
Too fast.
Even for him.
It didn’t stop him from trailing hot kisses along the edge of her jaw to the lobe of her ear. He bit the lobe lightly, and a shudder went through her. A gentle bite had her moaning.
He sucked it for a second longer before moving his lips down the smooth skin of her neck. The scent of her tickled him, the taste of her flesh delighted. Her dress impeded his access, but he appreciated the oversized buttons holding it closed. He only had to undo a couple to reveal her breasts restrained in a sturdy bra. The kind that probably had a dozen hooks in the back. Easier to just shove the cup aside and bare her to his touch.
She gasped as he nipped first one nipple then the other. They protruded. Demanded more attention. He was more than happy to give it. He leaned forward and caught the hard buds in his mouth one by one, sucking them, teasing them, even biting down, making her cry out.
For all she shivered and moaned, he wasn’t in as much control as he’d like. He wanted badly to thrust and come between those perfect thighs.
The lack of control froze him. This had already gone too far.
And it was about to go further because she whispered, “Touch me.”
There wasn’t a man alive who could have said no to that soft request.
With a groan of surrender, he claimed her lips for a torrid kiss. While one hand kept her anchored in place against the window, the other went exploring, gliding up her stockinged leg to realize the stockings didn’t end in garters. She wore the full bottom kind, practical, but still sexy, the fabric damp in the crotch once he managed to wedge his fingers between. He was no better than a clumsy boy as he pulled and finally moved those stockings down and out of his way, the cotton panties loose enough to be shoved aside.
When he touched her hot flesh, she cried out. Hell, he almost cried out as his hips involuntarily thrust.
He couldn’t help but plunge two fingers into her, feeling the heat of her sex. The pulse. The squeeze.
She rocked in his grip, grunting, begging, “Yes. Yes. Yes.”
He wanted to stop and give her his cock. But he couldn’t bring himself to slow the rhythm. Couldn’t stop himself from watching her, with her eyes shut, her lips parted, flushed and wanton in that moment.
About to come for him.
When she orgasmed, it squeezed his fingers so tight he gasped. Even came a little. Caught her long sigh of pleasure with a kiss.
Was ready to dig out a condom and get working on his own climax when a phone rang, chiming to the tune of “Jingle Bells.”
Not his phone. “Ignore it.”
“I can’t. That’s my daddy calling.”
Chapter Six
Angels We Have Heard on High; might have sounded like her when she came.
A part of her resented the intrusion of her happy, ringing phone. Another part froze in disbelief. What had just happened?
Blake had just thrown caution to the wind and almost had sex with a stranger.
Actually, given she’d come it might still count.
Total error in judgment no matter how good it felt. Still, when he’d said he wanted to kiss her…how could she resist? If he’d been a shitty kisser, she might have been able to stop. But he was a great kisser. And when he touched her…she came apart in his arms.
Came on his hand.
Standing with her bare ass in the window for anyone to see. A glance over her shoulder showed only snowy treetops. Still. Not exactly discreet.
She moved away from him and snared her phone from her purse on the way, her dress coming down to cover her as she wrestled one-handed to tug her tights and undies back into place. During the heat of the moment, she’d forgotten about her unshaven legs. Luckily, he’d only felt and not seen her very natural bush.
Still putting her outfit to rights, she answered, perhaps a tad more breathless than necessary. “Hello, Daddy.”
“Is everything okay, Lakey?” His nickname for her.
“Fine. Just fine. Lots of stairs in the house I’m showing. These legs weren’t meant for climbing.” She let out a short laugh that sounded very unconvincing.
She glanced at her client—Lover? What should she call him? He stood there looking smug. Odd given she’d been the one to get off, not him.
“Are you still with Mr. Arbuckle?”
“I am. Showing him the Grizzly Lake Chalet.”
“Why would you bother? It’s sold.”
“I know, but he wanted me to see the things he liked about it to get ideas.”
“You should have taken him to an available house. Like the Periwinkle Cabin. Or maybe Doe’s Retreat?”
“On my list if I can get in to see them later today,” she stated, trying to maintain her composure, which wasn’t easy given her stockings wanted to slide down and her underwear was wet. Her nipples throbbed, and Daddy kept talking, so she said, “I’m still here with Arbuckle, and I highly doubt he wants to listen to us chat. I’ll see you at the office.”
Before he could refuse, she hung up.
Arbuckle leaned against the window.
“That was my father.”
“You don’t say. I take it he’s not happy you brought me here.”
She rolled a shoulder. “He’d prefer I showed you an available home.”
“I’m ready to go right now if you are.” There was a definite double entendre in his words, but she’d had a moment to find her sanity now that he’d given her some relief.
“Unfortunately, we can’t right now. I’m required at the office.”
“Of course, you are,” he rumbled, striding past her. “And let me guess, tomorrow you’re busy too.”
She couldn’t have said what compelled her to say, “Have dinner with me tonight.”
He stopped by the front door and spun. “Going to try and sell me on another house?”
“No business.” Amended to, “Not entirely business.” She blushed. But she remained resolute. If she was going to have a fling, might as well do it with a guy who made her see stars and would be gone in a few days.
“When and where?”
“There’s an Italian place two blocks from my office. Say, seven p.m.?”
“Will that give you enough time to go home and freshen up?”
She pursed her lips. Was that a subtle jibe about her legs needing a shave? Had he noticed it during their tryst? “Saying I don’t look good enough?”