Page 435 of The Christmas Wife

Mira

I saw the play of expression on his face, knew he was thinking of things he wouldn’t share with me. And I’ll admit, it upsets me. I want to confront him about it, but if I do, it’ll cause him to shut down, which I don’t want. Especially after how he took me last night. Tying me up is how he expresses his emotions toward me. Maybe he can’t say the words aloud, but how he worships me with his body tells me he's halfway—more than halfway— to falling in love with me. And I don’t want to spoil the intimacy that’s sprung up between us.

Marooned here in this lighthouse, miles from anywhere, it’s just him and me, and I want to enjoy the feeling. I want to…make him laugh, lighten the thoughts he’s having. I want to just forget about the real world for a while. Which is why I slip out of his embrace and taunt him to catch up. And he doesn’t disappoint. A sly look comes into his eyes, and he prowls forward.

I take a few steps back, stumble against the settee, straighten and move around it. His lips curl as he continues to walk towardme. He knows he’s going to catch me. I know he’s going to catch me. But… I’m going to make him work for it.

I scramble back, cursing my boobs which flap around my chest. But then, he notices them, too. His gaze locks on my chest, and it’s his turn to stumble. Holy shit, he’s distracted by my body. He seems to love my figure—always tells me so, shows me how much he enjoys it in how he handles my body, but I’m self-conscious enough that I need constant reassurances. And what’s more of an ego boost than to have this gorgeous, confident man lose his footing when he sees my boobs?

I bring my hand up to play with my nipple, and his body tenses. He picks up his pace. I glance around, then dart around the bed. He stalks toward me and when I play with my pussy lips, he bumps into the bed. "Shit."

I giggle.

He frowns, then his forehead smoothens out. "You know what happens to little brats?"

I shake my head.

"They get taught a lesson."

"Oh." Moisture oozes out from my slit. I scoop it up, show him my glistening fingers. "Wanna taste?"

He nods.

"Too bad, you’re not getting any." I bring my fingers to my lips, making a popping sound the way he’s done in the past.

His gaze narrows. "Belle," he growls.

"Is that a sushi role between your legs, or are you sashimi to see me?"

He blinks. "What was that?"

"A…a…joke."

"I’m not laughing."

"How about knock-knock joke?" I hop from foot to foot. Behind me, is the wall; to the right, a glass window; and to my left, a bed. There’s only one way out. I jump up on the bed. He’sat the foot of the bed, and the various parts of me that jiggle once again seem to get his attention. He sweeps his gaze from the hair on my head, which is a rat’s nest, no doubt, all the way down to my toes, which I dig into the mattress, then back to my face.

"Knock-knock," he says in a hard voice.

"Who…who’s there?"

"Dozer."

"Dozer, who?" I ask in a cautious tone.

"Dozer some great tits you got there." His tone is still without expression but his eyes wear a glint.

I scoff, "That the best you can do?"

He slaps his palms on his hips and scowls. "Knock-knock."

Here goes nothing. "Who’s there?"

"Hop on."

"Hop on, who?"

"Hop on this dick."

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