Page 12 of Auctioned to the Mountain Man

“I got it,” I say, jabbing a finger into his hard chest. Realizing for the first time how narrow the doorway is and how close our bodies are mashed together. My gaze flickers to his lips, and dammit if it doesn’t remind me of last night. What is it with this man and doorways?

“Do you know where you two are standing?” Lola coos.

Shit. I look up to find the bundle of mistletoe dangling overhead. I knew I’d have to kiss Fox eventually, but I thought I’d have some time to gather my composure before that happened. To make sure all images of his delicious naked ass have evaporated from my brain. Who am I kidding? It’s permanently etched there.

“Well, sweetheart?” He hooks a finger playfully beneath my chin, tilting my face upward.

“Who came up with this anyway?” I ask.

“Who knows?” he says, his voice low and gruff. “But it’s probably bad luck to not follow tradition, right?”

My gaze returns to his lips, wondering if I’ll finally get to taste them this time or if it’ll be another tease. “After all the shitty luck I’ve had, I can’t really afford a holiday curse,” I say, grabbing the open edge of his flannel shirt to keep him from backpedaling.

“The mistletoe will be dead before you two finally get around to smooching,” Lola calls.

I hardly get out a laugh before Fox’s lips press against mine. Chaste, purposeful, and boring. He pulls back with a loud, dramaticsmack. I’d be disappointed, but the silent war dancing in his whiskey brown eyes suggests he’s holding back on purpose.

For the first time, I’m annoyed that he was ever friends with Brett. Without that complication…

“That’s all you got?” Lola pouts. “I’m starting to highly doubt that first date story. Dessert, my ass.”

“Fox is just a little shy, aren’t you babe?”

“The fuck I am,” he mumbles, only loud enough for me to hear him. Before I can give him any more shit, he cups my cheek with deliberation and goes in for a second kiss. One that is nothing like the first. It’s aggressive, passionate, and dizzying. As though a hunger’s been unleashed between us. As though we’ve kissed a thousand times before, our lips and tongues moving in perfect rhythm.

I melt into him, lost in the sensation of his intoxicating kiss. Wetness pools between my legs as a tiny whimper escapes my throat. I recall his claim about making me come with one single flick of his tongue.

I didn’t believe him—until now.

“Get a room,” a male voice booms, clapping Fox hard on the back. The son-in-law, I suspect.

“That’s more like it,” Lola cheers.

“I’m going to grab that shower,” I say to the room, patting Fox on the chest before I sprint to the bedroom and lock the door behind me.

What the fuck wasthat?

CHAPTER

EIGHT

FOX

Damn the mistletoe.

I was trained to pay attention to every single detail. Anything out of the ordinary could mean an ambush—certain death—if it was overlooked. I spotted that damn green bundle dangling when I entered the kitchen. Practically took it out with my head.

But then Alida happened.

I expected her to hide in the bedroom until I took her out to introduce her to everyone. But I should have known better. She’s too stubborn and independent for that shit. Finding her in the kitchen holding court with my family is incredibly fitting of the strong, confident woman I’ve come to know. If I hadn’t been so distracted jerking off in the shower, I might have foreseen this disaster.

Instead, I practically offered myself up as a sacrificial lamb when I chased after her, catching her right underneath that damn mistletoe.

If I thought I had it bad for Alida before, it’s nothing compared to the way I’ve come alive since that kiss. Not the silly, chaste smooch on the lips. I could have handledthat. It was thesecond one, where I abandoned all caution and sank right in. For the first time since I’ve known Alida, she surrendered to me and let down her steel walls.

Now I’m all fucked up in the head.

“Are you pouting because Santa wouldn’t let you sit on his lap?” Alida teases as she comes up behind me, looping her arm through mine, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world. Snowflakes dust the top of her red stocking hat and the shoulders of her coat. She’s fallen right into the act of perfect fake girlfriend, as if she’s prepared for this role her whole life.

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