Page 47 of Deck the Fire Halls

So much self-control.

I wanted to tear at his clothes, grip his face, and devour him, but he was leading this. He was in command and so, so fucking hot.

His mouth, his tongue, sliding against mine, deep and devouring. Then his arms slid around my back, warm and strong, holding me.

My body moved of its own volition. I lifted my leg without thought, hitching it over his hip. My hands found his neck, his hair, and I tilted my head so he could give me more of his tongue.

I groaned and rolled my hips and he put his hands to my face and broke the kiss. He stepped back, making my leg fall, and I had to steady myself. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Holy fuck,” he panted. “If we don’t stop, I’m not sure I’ll be able to.”

“I’m not sure I want to,” I replied, again, without thinking. That seemed to be happening a lot around him...

His gaze met mine, his last thread of self-control visible. “Rob.”

“I know what I said. And I’m sorry for the mixed signals. But, Jesus Christ, you’re so fucking hot.” I shook my head. “Sorry about the language. I don’t normally cuss. There seems to be a distinct brain-to-body disconnect when I’m around you.”

He chuckled and let out a sigh. He had himself back under control now, I could tell. And I was disappointed, but I understood.

“It’s okay,” I said. “It’s just all so new for me. I can’t even remember the last time someone touched me in anon-sexual way, so my brain is drinking down dopamine like a college kid on a beer bong, and my body... phew! Well, my body is, uh...” I adjusted my now-aching dick. “Well, yeah. It’s not opposed to the attention.”

He chuckled but his smile became a little tortured. “That’s why I need to slow down. I have to do this right even if it kills me.” He looked down at my crotch and groaned as he turned away, and with his hand to his forehead, he let out a laugh. “And it’s gonna kill me.”

“Why do youhaveto do this right?” I asked. He’d made it sound like a chore.

“Because you said it yourself. It’s been a while since someone touched you in a non-sexual way.” He put his hand to my face, and I couldn’t help it. I leaned into the touch and closed my eyes.

And I realized I’d proven his point.

I was touch-starved, and I was craving it.

“I want to show you all the little things. The soft touches, the intimacy.”

“The romance,” I added, remembering what he’d said before, and he nodded.

“We’ll get to the good part,” he said. “I know we will. And it’s gonna be so good. I will make it so good for you, Robinson. I promise. But it will be a whole-body experience. Not a hand job in your kitchen.”

Holy hell.

My blood burned at his words, but it was different than before. Not desire, not the need for physical touch. Something else. Something better, deeper.

“I was actually thinking more of a blow job,” I joked, rolling my eyes.

He groaned out a laugh. “That visual isn’t helping.”

I put my hands on his shoulders and made him stand at arm’s length. “You being too close to me isn’t helping. You looking at me isn’t helping, and the way you lick the corner of your mouth really, really isn’t helping.”

He laughed and deliberately faced the wall. “Is that better?”

“Not really. Your side profile is just as hot.”

He turned his back to me. “How’s that?”

My eyes went straight to his ass. “So much better.”

He laughed again and turned around with his hands up. “Okay. So if we’re having steak and steamed vegetables for dinner, it will take fifteen minutes, max. Let’s decorate your Christmas tree.”

“That’s not a euphemism for sex by chance, is it?”

He laughed as he walked into the lounge room. “No. Now stop it. Or we will do the euphemism. How long has your tree been settling?”

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