Page 87 of The Thief Who Saved Christmas

He swears under his breath, his hand leaving my hip to brush against my cheek, my lips. “I’m glad I get to be the first. You don’t know how much that turns me on.”

“Really?” I ask, bewildered. Then I feel the need to add, “I’m not very good at…you know, reciprocating. I’ve been told I’m not very good at it, anyway.”

A different kind of fire fills his eyes, and he swears again, dropping his hand from my face. “I want to kill him.”

I grip his hand. “He’s probably right. I’m not very…it can be hard for me to be in the moment.”

“You don’t have to reciprocate. I don’t want you to tonight. I want to make you feel comfortable and relaxed, and I want you to come against my mouth. But if you ever want to do that for me in the future, I’d be nothing but grateful that you want to make me feel good.”

He sounds pissed off, but I know he’s pissed off for me, not at me. A wave of powerful emotion passes through me, leaving my eyes hot. “Oh, Ryan.”

He leans in and kisses me hard, his tongue finding mine, and gathers my hair in his fist. That wave of emotion ripples through me again and again as his lips move with mine and then trail down my neck. In between kisses, he whispers, “You’re so beautiful, Anabelle.” And, “I want you so bad.”

I believe him. For now, I can see myself through his eyes, not as an awkward woman who turns people off but as a sexy Christmas witch who makes men mad with desire.

He looks up at me, as if asking permission, and then lowers his head enough to stroke his tongue over the fabric of my nightgown, passing over my nipple, and the dual sensation of his warm tongue and the fabric sends desire quaking through me.

He does it again on the other side, and then he gently backs me toward the bed. I sit down on it, my heart racing, and then lie down.

“You look like you’re waiting for dental surgery,” he says with a smile that spills into his eyes. “We don’t need to do this. We don’t need to do anything. I only want you to feel good.”

“But I really, really want you to do it.” I’m almost on the verge of tears again, because I do want this, so badly, and I’m also afraid. “I’m anxious, is all.”

“What can I do to make you comfortable?”

“Just be close to me. It makes me feel better when you’re close to me,” I say, reaching for him. He pauses to take off his shoes and then climbs into the bed beside me.

His eyes are so soft and warm and reassuring as he glides his hands over me and presses soft kisses to my face and neck. I don’t know how much time passes, maybe five minutes, maybe fifty, but I feel a building pressure between my legs desperate for a release.

“Now,” I say, my voice shaking, although not with nerves anymore.

He contemplates me for a second, as if making sure, and then starts kissing his way down my body again. My heart is pounding as he pauses to place a kiss over my belly before continuing downward. Then his head disappears beneath the hem of the billowy nightgown, which hides almost all of him from view. But I can feel him. He kisses my thigh, his hair brushing against the flesh with a tickle that makes me laugh, and then slides my underwear down my legs and throws them.

His breath flutters against me, sending hot shivers through my body, and then he does exactly what he said he would and buries his face between my legs, his mouth sucking and licking. The shock of it almost makes me cross my legs, but then a boltof pleasure rocks through me and escapes from my lips in a breathy, wordless sigh.

He shifts the hem of my nightgown and looks up at me, his hair a mess and his mouth glistening slightly. I’m embarrassed. And I’m hot everywhere. And Ineedhim to continue.

“Do you like it?” he asks.

“You know I do,” I say, my face burning. “Do you?”

“Oh, I could do this all night, sweetheart. I will if you’ll let me.”

He lowers his face back down, spreading my legs wider for himself. I’m still embarrassed and full of a hundred different things, but I watch him. And I find myself lifting my hips to meet his mouth as the feelings he’s unleashing furl and unfurl through my limbs, making them move of their own accord.

I didn’t know it could feel like this.

I didn’t knowanythingcould feel like this.

I lower my hand to his hair, needing something to anchor onto, and weave my fingers through his loose curls. They feel so good against my hand, and he’s still licking and sucking me as if he really could do it all night.

But am I taking too long? I don’t want him to stop, but what if his mouth gets tired? What if—

He does something with his tongue that makes pleasure arc through my body, and a strangled sound passes my lips. It’s almost too good, too intense. Maybe I should tell him to stop. It’s enough for me to have experienced this much…

He lifts his head again, checking in on me. “Everything okay?”

“You can stop,” I tell him. “You’ve been down there for a while.”

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