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It Must Have Been the Mistletoe(39)

By:Kate Hoffmann


At least not tonight.

His fingers threaded through hers, Bryant casually led her out of the restaurant to the lobby, where he depressed the call button for the elevators.

“Dinner was wonderful. Tha—”

The doors closed behind them and he ate what was left of her thank-you. His mouth unerringly found hers with an urgency and desperation she hadn’t expected but felt all the same. His tongue tangled expertly around hers and she could feel the long, hard length of him nudging determinedly against her belly.

Her mouth watered.

She tugged his shirt from the waistband of his jeans and found the warm skin at the small of his back. He shuddered and deepened the kiss, and she felt the smooth suction of his mouth against hers down low in her belly. His hands slipped over her back, then beneath her shirt, and the first touch of his fingers against her bare skin snatched the breath from her lungs. A shaky laugh rattled up her throat.

Oh, this was going to be good.

“I’m amusing you?” he asked between kisses. “Clearly I’m not trying hard enough.”

She snickered again. “Oh, I don’t know about that. It feels hard enough.”

It was his turn to laugh and she felt that rumble against her chest as he lifted her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he cradled her ass, then gave a gentle squeeze. Her sex wept and a low, insistent throb quickened in her clit, sharing the same beat as her heart.

The elevator doors slid open and he hurried down the hall with her clinging to him. Without dropping her or breaking the kiss, he managed to get his hotel room door open.

Neat trick, that.

Five seconds later she was flat on her back on the bed and he was between her legs, flexing against her while they were still fully clothed. He was heavy and hard and…damn.

“This…would be…so much…better…naked,” she gasped, her hands tearing his shirt over his head. Smooth skin, sleek muscle, no man-scaping. Any guy who worried more about excess body hair than she did made her nervous. There were tiny scars on his chest—burns from bits of metal, she realized, leaning forward to lick one.

He shuddered above her.

The power was heady and she knew the smile that rolled across her lips was wicked.

“I don’t trust that grin,” he said, those keen butterscotch eyes missing nothing.

“Smart boy.”

“Boy?” he said, feigning outrage. “I beg to differ.”

She reached down and tugged at his zipper. “I’d like for you to beg.”

He chuckled, baring her midriff so that he could kiss his way up her middle. “I’d like for you to beg.”

She was on the verge of making a boner reference when he popped the front clasp on her bra and took the beaded crest of her breast fully into his mouth. His tongue laved her nipple, abrading it in the most delicious way. He suckled her and she felt that tug deep in the heart of her sex, as though there were a corresponding thread connecting the two. A broken gasp sounded between them—hers—and she squirmed against him, needing to feel the hardest part of him against the softest part of her.

She settled for slipping her hand beneath his boxers and palming him. His penis jumped into her greedy hand like a happy puppy waiting to be petted, and she encircled him and began to stroke.

He retaliated by thumbing her other nipple, then licked a path between the two and feasted on the previously neglected one. The small of her back left the bed and she shifted her hips, a soundless entreaty that he answered by stripping the rest of her clothes off, leaving her bare and open to his hungry gaze.

“You’re beautiful,” he said.

She never enjoyed compliments about her body. They made her feel self-conscious and weird. “I’m a sure thing,” she told him. “No flattery necessary.”

“Stop that,” he said. “You—” he kissed a rib “—are—” he slid his nose down to her belly button “—beautiful.” He drew back, retrieved a condom from his wallet, then quickly rolled it into place. A second later he was nudging the pouting folds of her sex, bumping her clit in the process.

“You’re pretty damned gorgeous yourself,” she said, meaning every word. He was glorious, utterly perfect, and for this moment, hers. “Come inside me,” she said, rocking against him.

Then he filled her up and she stopped thinking altogether. She could only feel…and it was heavenly.

Ultimate inspiration indeed.



COME INSIDE ME.

Bryant hesitated for a fraction of a second—was sure she didn’t notice—before he took the literal plunge into her body. A last-ditch effort at self-preservation, he realized.

But too late.