Page 208 of A Merry Mountain Christmas

“I suppose I shouldn’t care,” she says, her gaze on my tie. “It’s notmywedding.”

“You don’t seem like the vampire-bride type,” I tease.

Her eyes lift to mine, a smile tugging at her lips. “You sure about that?”

It takes everything in me not to kiss her. She looks so sweet and beautiful, and I realize I don’t want her just for sex, but because I want to see where this goes. I want to possibly build a life with her and Aidan. Maybe even have more kids.

The realization hits me center mass. I’ve known this woman for all of three weeks. It’s too soon to be having those thoughts. Hell, she doesn’t even want a relationship with me, or at least she didn’t in the beginning.

Except things between us have changed. If we start something again, it won’t be as friends with benefits. I can see it in her eyes as she stares up at me with longing. I could hear it when she told me,I need time.Mary’s not a fling kind of woman. She wants a white picket fence and a manicured lawn.

And a respectable man. Not an ex-con.

“We should go,” I say, dropping my hands to my sides. “It won’t take us long to get there, but in case we have trouble figuring out where to go…”

Mary blinks, seeming to awaken from her trance. “Yes. Of course.”

“Do you have a coat?”

She grimaces and picks up a black, fuzzy-looking rectangle and starts to wrap it around her shoulders. “Molly.”

Undoubtedly, I need to send Molly a gift basket for making sure Mary looks so amazing. If only Mary realized it too.

I take the wrap from her, then weave my fingers through hers and lead her into Aidan’s bathroom, flicking on the light.

“What are you doing?” she protests but doesn’t try to flee.

“Look at yourself, Mary.”

Her gaze lifts to the mirror. “Okay. Now what?”

“No. Really look at yourself. Do you even realize how sexy you are, Mary O’Shea?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she forces out, dropping her gaze.

Without thinking, I reach for her chin and gently lift her head. “Mary,” I murmur. “I wish you could see yourself how I see you.”

“How do you see me?” she whispers.

“Do you really want me to tell you?” I whisper back, my dick growing hard. “Because you asked me for more time, and if I go there, I’m not holding back.”

“Tell me,” she says, fire dancing in her eyes while her back sinks into my chest.

“I see your long, sexy neck, and I want to brush my lips against your skin to feel your pulse quicken.”

Her breath hitches.

I release her chin, then let my fingertips trail down her neck to her chest, brushing lightly between her cleavage. “My eyes are drawn here, and I wonder if you’re wearing a bra. Are you wearing a bra, Mary?”

Her lips part, and when she doesn’t answer, I slide my hand over to lightly cup her breast, letting my thumb brush over her nipple.

She’s not.

“The dress…” she says with a gasp. “It has built-in support.”

I swallow a moan and stop myself from sliding the fabric to the side so I can see her. Taste her.

Jesus. What the fuck am I doing?

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