Page 76 of Sweet Silver Bells
Control yourself, Hunter.
He’d better not blow it before he even got his pants off. Even if she could forgive him, he never would forgive himself. She didn’t make it easy, though, as her hips moved to music that he couldn’t hear, as her head rolled and her chest swayed in ceremony, in devotion, like a prayer to a divine being that couldn’t be touched, seen, or explained by ordinary people like him.
It was entrancing. This time though, there was no haze. She allowed him to be fully present, fully himself.
He looked down, the pressure almost unbearable—his body straining against the confines of his winter pants, every inch of him aching. Need surged through him, raw and insistent, begging for release—for her. To find a home in her heat, where he could stay, moving and pulsing with every breath, every heartbeat, for as long as she’d let him.
She's mine—my tree siren.
“Olivia,” he panted and chuckled. “You are driving me insane.”
“I think we are both already insane,” she said, sliding her hand up his chest and bopping him on the nose before standing there as he continued to lie under her.
“Come back,” he pleaded, not liking the cold air between them, the front door still open. Olivia turned and looked outside, smiling.
“You want to put on a show?” he asked, trying to read her mind.
Olivia cocked her head and considered before kicking the door closed.
“I want to wrap myself inside a tree with you, so that no one else will ever see us again.”
“I can see the appeal,” Hunter said, sitting up, laughing at her boldness.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” Olivia demanded.
Hunter raised his eyebrows at her, a question in his eyes that Olivia only answered by pulling her jacket sleeve from her right arm. She then peeled it off slowly, not taking her eyes off of his. The mistletoe rose like a snake from the Garden of Eden, catching it as she let it drop.
“Great service here,” Hunter joked, his smile disappearing entirely as he gulped, nerves hitting his stomach as the adrenaline high from their passionate makeout began to simmer down, because Olivia was just starting to heat up.
Her hand moved down to the waistband of her pants, which she unbuttoned, the tight fabric springing open to reveal black lace underwear. Hunter didn’t need to remind himself where she got those, but damn, he was glad to see them on her.
Her pants were held up loosely by her hips, her exposed bikini line an open invitation for him to bury his head in between her thighs. He couldn’t wait to see what she tasted like, what sounds escaped her perfect damn mouth.
He hoped she would giggle.
Fuck.
He nearly lost it then, blowing it all up just at the thought of his dark, powerful, terrifying woman falling apart from his tongue, a gentleness, a sweetness escaping through her shadowy facade.
He started to get to his feet, but Olivia wouldn’t have it, using her foot to push his chest back down, his head bopping aggressively against the floor, pain flooding behind his eyes.There wasn’t time to nurse himself, to let the ache subside, because Olivia was once again standing over him, and her pants were a little bit lower from her kick and now, he couldn’t tear his attention away from how soft her skin looked, clean from the showers, healed from sleeping in his bed.
Thank God for that kick.
She was putting on a show, a moon shining bright for only him to see as she tugged on the bottom of her thick, brown, long-sleeved shirt, letting her hips sway back and forth, her long aphotic hair swaying behind her, voluminous, sticking to the wet parts of her mouth where his saliva still gleamed in the fragments of light navigating through the window and around the tall, out-of-control poinsettias that seemed intent on becoming their own jungle.
A moment later, the mistletoe rose again, catching the shirt that Olivia dropped to the floor, revealing a black lace bralette with no padding, her nipples pointed and pushing against the fabric just like his penis was still struggling against the constrictions of his pants.
Her torso was not long, not petite. She was so real. Someone who had been healing from pain, someone who sought comfort in his touch, someone whose body would soon be wrapped around his.
Hunter shook his head, and Olivia’s face fell.
“Why is your face doing that?” she asked. “Do you not like my body?”
“Olivia.” Hunter rushed up, his hands grabbing her hips, his fingers flexed around her ass. If he were any other man, he would bite her right there, sink his teeth into that soft, supple flesh, maybe even drawing blood. It would feel so good—she already felt so good. “You don’t understand. I love everything about you. I have full devotion to your body.”
He placed his mouth on her bikini line, a gentle kiss.
“I love right here, especially. I cannot stop staring at it. I am the luckiest man to be chosen to be wrapped up in a tree with you for all eternity.”
