Page 141 of Sinning for Santa

She snickers, facing me fully and her delicate fingers reach up and start unbuttoning my shirt. She doesn’t speak, hergaze shifting from the buttons and up to my face as she goes, before pushing the fabric open to reveal my bare chest and abs.

“Now you do.”

Fuuuck. Her voice is husky from what I hope is arousal, and her gaze is a little lust drunk as she smirks wickedly, taking a few steps back to gawk at me.

“In the confessional, little mouse.”

She hesitates, her smile faltering briefly before she looks over her shoulder at the booth.

She’s nervous about going in there.

“It won’t be like last time.” I assure her, needing her to trust me, and she turns back, frowning.

“Why not?”

“So much has changed, love.”

My admission has her frown deepening, and a look of frustration gets shot back at me.

“Nothing has changed,” she protests, “I’m not some fragile damsel—”

“I never said you were, little mouse.”

“Yet you’re treating me differently because of what happened at Holly River.”

I stalk towards her, and she steps back matching my strides as we slowly travel up the candle lit path.

“It has nothing to do with Holly River, Jaxcen.”

“What does it have to do with then?” she asks, glancing over her shoulder as she hurries backwards, keeping the distance between us.

“It has to do with the fact that things between us have changed.”

She stops and frowns. “Have they?”

I nod, closing the gap and cupping her nape. “They have.” That’s the only answer she’s getting from me, so I claim her lips in a kiss that feels like she’s the one claiming me, and not the other way around.

A growl rumbles in my chest as I fist her hair, a whimper falling from her mouth into mine as we devour each other,our tongues battling for domination, and fuck, I feel like I’d give it all to her if I were a better man.

But since I’m not, I refuse to let her try and get the upper hand, tugging her hair back and taking control of the kiss.

She’s panting by the time I break it, her lips swollen, just the way I fucking love them, her blue gaze even more drunk on the situation as her tits press into my chest, and my cock presses against her pelvis.

“I don’t want to confess in there,” she whispers, but there’s no fear in her words, just fact.

She’s strong, but perhaps a confession so soon after being taken to her version of hell isn’t such a good idea tonight.

I release her hair. “We can leave.”

“No, I don’t want to leave. I want to do something… different.”

Frowning at her, I watch her eyes, trained on mine as she slowly lowers to her knees before me, and then she lowers her head.

Fuck. Not only is the possessive side of me practically preening at the sight of her in the submissive position, but the fact she still wants to do this fills me with pride.

She understands my brand of crazy.

The fact she wants to do this face to face instead of hiding behind the barrier of discretion and anonymity a confessional provides also does something to me I’m not sure how to explain.

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