Page 33 of Mistletoe Missus
Tinsley
Mitt Morgan had some nerve, and he had me fuming. I had the limousine headed toward my apartment until I got Albert to pull a U-turn and made him promise not to go back. I wanted to defy my husband’s order of moving into his mansion so badly and not go back to his place, but a hasty, split-second decision would be careless. My impulsive behavior could cost me everything.
I hemmed and hawed all the way back to Morgan Estates. The frustrated words I wanted to scream from the limousine wouldn’t do me any good. The only person I had to blame was myself for being desperate when I should have used my common sense. But I also had my grumpy new husband to blame for this unwanted mess.
“We’re here, Mrs. Morgan,” Albert announced as we pulled up to the new place I had to call home.
I glared at the mansion with bitterness and muttered, “Don’t remind me.”
Albert added, “Mr. Morgan has arrived too.”
“Oh, goody,” I grumbled.
The snow came down heavily, blankets of it, to the point it was hard to see out the foggy window. I could barely make outMitt in his black overcoat as he stepped out of a taxi and came toward the limousine. His expensive designer shoes disappeared from the ankles down into the snow, and I dreaded going out there. The temperature was past freezing at this point in the evening, and I felt chills thinking about the drastic drop, but this was wintertime. Cold, icy, and unpredictable. Almost as unforeseeable as Mitt knocking at my door with a black umbrella shielding him from the blizzard.
I rolled down my window. “What do you want?”
“I want to ensure my wife gets safely inside,” Mitt answered simply.
“You care about my safety after threatening me and ordering me around?” I questioned with a raised eyebrow, giving him a shit ton of sass.
Let’s face it, Mitt wanted to make a brat out of me. Well, he’d get one, and he’d deserve it.
“Yes. I want my wife safe and unharmed, even from Mother Nature herself,” Mitt replied as he reached for the door handle but didn’t pull on it. “Now, stop being a brat and roll up your window, Wife. The press is watching.”
Mitt nodded toward the other side of the street, and, sure enough, a small crowd of paparazzi had set up camp outside of Morgan Estates. They at least weren’t hounding the vehicle like a bunch of crazed animals—the extreme snowfall had kept them at bay. We just needed to live in a freaking snow globe to keep them away.
“Fine,” I mumbled with attitude and rolled up the window.
Mitt opened the door, draped his coat over my shoulders and handed me the umbrella. “Take this and follow in my footsteps.”
“So much for caring about my safety. This sweet gesture is all for the tabloids,” I said as I peered back at him.
“As much as I want the press to see us happy, I can assure you your safety has nothing to do with them,” Mitt explained ashe leaned in close until his nose brushed mine. “Your well-being is my primary concern.”
Shit. Mitt was too close. But I had to maintain my composure in his dominating presence.
I managed a small laugh. “You have a damn funny way of showing it.”
“I’m a complex man, angel,” Mitt whispered against my lips. “I’m selfish and I take what I want.”
“And what do you want?” I blurted out the question before I could process another thought.
Mitt’s hazel eyes were full of intensity, blurring all reason within me. His lips were far too soft against mine, and they begged for him to kiss me. I was a goner as soon as he stepped into my bubble and popped it, exposing every layer I tried to hide from him behind it. He was too close, so nearby I could smell his woodsy warm scent, and the animalistic need in me wanted to come out to play.
“I want to get you inside before you catch a cold,” Mitt answered as he pulled away and walked.
That was close. Much too close for comfort.
My head spun for an entire minute from the heat my husband had ignited inside of me, and I felt as if I was in overdrive. The highest gear possible ran at a pace far faster than I could catch up to, and I was about to collide with reality, hitting me smack dab in the face, and I had to realize I couldn’t let my dearly beloved get to me.
I gave myself a mental shake and followed in Mitt’s footsteps. The umbrella protected me from the snowfall, and his tracks helped keep my heels from getting wet, which would lead to cold feet. The chilly temperature made me shiver, but I wasn’t nearly as cold as I could be.
Once inside, Mitt turned to me, and his hair had giant snowflakes in it. The crystals melted and made his hair wet ashe ran his hand through it. His whiskers were slightly crisp from the mix of his body heat and the chill from outside. He wiped the snow from his broad shoulders and didn’t even appear to be frozen, but I shook like a leaf.
“Jesus. You’re freezing, angel,” Mitt said with concern, and he pulled me in close. “Let’s get you to my bed.”
I pushed back, my teeth chattering. “No way. I’m not sleeping in your bed.”
