Page 37 of The Naughty Elf

I moan against his mouth and taste his tongue. We fit together everywhere.

Grabbing the back of his shirt, I enjoy how full he makes me feel, but I wish I had access to all of his skin. My nails dig in, and my hips lift against his.

The way he swivels against me has me bearing down, ready for the peaks of pleasure.

I tug again on his shirt.

Jackson rears up, grabbing his shirt and yanking it over his head. I stop him before he crashes back over me, running my hands over his bare shoulders and chest, teasing the soft hair there before caressing my fingers down his abs. He is finely tuned. Beautiful.

I really like the way his body looks between my knees and the taper of his hips down to where he’s nestled in my core.

I involuntarily squeeze around him. Jackson grunts and thrusts with a bit of force.

“God, that’s so hot.” Watching him move, watching him stretch me open, fill me, has me writhing with need.

“Yeah, you are.” His big hands encase my hips, and I want them everywhere.

Jackson tastes every inch of me, and it’s so sensual that I’m nearly bursting already.

It’s so rare that a man treats me so tenderly during sex. It’s usually frantic thrusting, grabbing, rushing to the end. But when his body fully meets mine, I feel so cherished and taken care of. Pleasure soars when he sucks a nipple into his mouth.

My back arches with it, and the steady rhythm of his hips has me grappling for stable ground.

But it’s his hot breath in my ear that does me in. “There’s my sweet girl. Come for me. Let go. I’ve got you.”

I struggle to give in, scratching down his back as he finds the spot that detonates me. Every muscle seizes, and I ride out the waves, coming back to Jackson planting kisses across my shoulder, up my throat.

His hair is slick when I run my fingers through it, and he grins at me. Jackson pulses inside of me, but he’s still so, so hard.

His movements slow but steady, Jackson cares for my body, pushing me past my sensitivity and into a new level of pleasure. I memorize the way his muscles move under my palms.

I want this to be my new normal: time with Jackson. Alone. Being taken care of. Teasing pleasure. Everything I should avoid with him.

Because he’s my boss.

But this feels so right. I don’t think I can give it up.

17

SAWYER

Ifind myself parking at the ranch. I’ve been restless without work. The week off for Christmas leaves me with too much time to be still. Maybe Bennett will have something I can help him with.

Maybe Ginger will be nearby, and I can catch a glimpse of her. See one of her smiles.

The air’s getting colder, but we still have minimal snow. A light dusting in the morning made the world twinkle with magic. But now, I’m missing the brilliance that a feisty woman brings into my life five days a week.

The wrap-around porch is decorated with iridescent white garlands and twinkling white lights. I knock on the brick-red door, and it swings open to Genevieve’s face, a furrow of worry on her brow. Reaching out, I brace her shoulder.

“What’s wrong?”

She shakes her head, salt and pepper hair left down for her to run her hand through. “Come in, come in.”

I do, and she closes the door behind me. “We’ve had an accident on the grounds. One of the volunteers drove the bulldozer through the side of the barn. Lever gets stucksometimes, you know? I always tell him to grease the machines. The levers and bits. Winter breeds rust. Gunks things up. But does he listen to his wife? No. He thinks I’m only beautiful, but I have a brain, too.”

It’s hard to suppress my smile. I know where Ginger gets so much of her personality from.

“Bennett is in the kitchen, breaking his granddaughter's heart.” She leads me through the open-concept living room. Windows, tall but narrow, allow a healthy amount of light in. Bright pine warms the space, even though the room is huge. The log cabin aesthetic provides a rustic homey feeling.

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