Page 177 of The Christmas Wife

She frowns, "What's the catch?"

"No catch."

"I don't believe it."

"Better believe it." I allow my lips to curve.

She stares at my face.

"What?"

"Did you actually smile without smirking?"

"I don't smirk..." I protest.

She arches an eyebrow.

"Okay, maybe sometimes," I concede.

"All the time," she grumbles. "I've never known you not to smirk, not that it isn't hot in a mean kind of way?—"

"Aha, so you do find it hot?" My mouth curls.

"I rest my case," she snaps.

Bloody fuck, what the hell does she want me to do? Change my personality overnight?It's taken thirty-three odd years to cultivate this dickface persona. But for her... I'd give that up too... Only with her, that is. To the rest of the world, I'd still be the asshole surgeon with the bad attitude... But for her... I'd do anything.

Does that include letting go of control...for a tiny window in time...allowing her to have her way with me? My balls tighten; my skin crawls. Giving up choice? Not something I'd ever imagined doing...not before her. Only for her.

She is my woman and she'll get her satisfaction when, where and how she needs it. Everyone else will deal...and that includes me. Fuck. I wipe the smile off my face. "Better?"

She raises her shoulders. "Maybe," she takes another step forward, "maybe not."

"I know something that will make it better." I begin to smirk again.

She scowls.

I grimace, school all expression from my face. Best to keep my mouth shut, lock my muscles, dig my feet into the floor. I stay still... Wait... Wait for her to come to me, to tip her head back and meet my gaze.

"Anything, huh?" She drags a finger down my chest, down to my waistband, in the direction of where my cock tents the crotch of my pants.

Blood rush to my groin; pinpricks of heat follow in the path of her touch. "Anything," I growl.

She unbuckles my belt, and my dick thrusts against its restraints. Fuck, at this rate, I am going to come in my pants and she's barely touched me yet. My fingers tingle. I raise my hand.

She glances at it, then at me, "You promised," she reminds me.

I curl my fingers into a fist, then raise my hands and lock them behind my neck, "Indeed." I keep my gaze trained on her face.

Her pupils dilate and color pinks her cheeks. She lowers the zipper, then shoves my pants and my boxers down in one sweep.

The breath catches in my chest as I kick aside my clothes.

She reaches down and winds her fingers around my throbbing dick. My groin hardens, my balls tighten, and I grip my hands together.Don't release them. Don’t reach for her. Don't push her down onto her knees. Don't ask her to take youinside that gorgeous mouth and don’t ask her to suck you off... Don't.She reaches for her shirt and whips it off.

I stare. "What are you doing?"

"What do you think?" She pulls off her bra, then shoves off her boots, and wriggles out of her jeans and panties. Her full tits jiggle as she straightens. She runs her hand down her stomach, to where her pink pussy glistens. She strums her lower lips and my cock jumps in response.

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