Page 58 of Yuletide Acres

Chapter 11

Poppy

My brows raise at his direct question. “What do you have in mind?”

His hands tighten around my hips, those talented fingers moving ever so lightly across my body. “I want to spend time with you. Alone.”

I can’t say I’m surprised, or disappointed by his words. The heat level between the two of us has been rising for weeks, and we’ll both implode if the fire isn’t given free rein.

It’s funny. Earlier this evening, I decided to halt any further romantic inclinations between me and Dylan. I knew it would go nowhere, even if it promised to be the hottest sex in a decade. But now, after that maniac cornered me and Dylan threw him off, protecting me while risking himself, I’ve changed my mind.

Life is short, and all we have is this moment. Perhaps my free-spirited ideals of old aren’t such a bad idea, after all.

That, and my body is buzzing from even the slightest touch.

I tap my finger to my chin, as if considering his offer. Hey, he may be Yuletide’s hottest commodity, but I plan to make the man work for it. “No yelling.”

Dylan gives a rueful shake of his head. “I’ve been a royal dick, haven’t I? No yelling. I promise.” With that he extends his hand, leading me down one of the many hallways in the home. “Welcome to my man cave.”

I gasp upon entering. For a man cave, it certainly is inviting. Thick rugs and pillows are scattered on the floor by the fire, inviting anyone in the vicinity to cuddle by its warmth. Likely, that’s exactly what Dylan does with his many girlfriends. I turn from the fire, willing that visual from my brain.

Be in the moment. That’s his rule, Poppy. If you want to be part of Dylan’s world, you need to play by those rules.

Dylan stokes the fire, patting the floor next to him. “Anything else?”

I hesitate to sit, instead directing my focus to the pictures hanging around the room. No animal heads or naked women on the walls. A definite plus. “No angry kisses.”

The smile that spreads across that man’s face. How does any woman stand a chance? “Deal, although I’m going to make a play for a different kind.”

I pivot toward him, my hands on my hips. “What makes you think I’ll give you any kind?”

“I may or may not have mistletoe planted everywhere. It is tradition.”

“Ah. Nothing like bribery,” I retort with a laugh.

Dylan is not dissuaded by my standoffish approach. The man has always loved a challenge. “Or the fact that I know every weak spot on your body.”

I chuckle, although my entire core flames at the idea of him touching me. “It’s been a decade.”

Now Dylan is on his feet, walking toward me like a hunter after his prey. “They haven’t changed.”

“You don’t remember them.”

With a grunt, he closes the distance between us, sinking to his knees in front of me. He doesn’t ask permission as he pulls apart the edges of my robe, exposing my lacy thong.

“Want to make a bet?” His hands slide up the backs of my thighs, palming my ass as his tongue flicks along my panty line, working his way up along my hip. That’s the thing about Dylan. He loved to tease me, driving my body to the point of implosion before backing me down and doing it all over again.

Thank God some things never change.

The feel of his beard against my sensitive skin is lighting me up like a 4th of July picnic, and Dylan chuckles when my hands drift down to his head, holding him in place.

“You were saying?” he murmurs against my skin, his tongue flicking ever closer to my clit as his fingers slide along my folds. But just like the torture king that he is, he won’t give me the satisfaction.

Not yet, anyway.

I smile down at him, my hips arching toward him as his hands run along my body. “Maybe you got lucky.”

“That must be it.”

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