Page 57 of The Crush of Christmas Past
Andfuck.
We’re right there. Together.
Clothes on. Self-control flayed.
I’m so hard it hurts, seconds from a pulse-shattering first.
Even through the denim, every thrust of my cock against her heat shoves me closer to oblivion.
I want to praise her. Tell her how good she’s doing. How perfect she looks straddling the edge of abandon. Make it clear I’d give up everything to keep her here forever.
But I can’t speak. Can’t think.
Hell, I’m hanging on by a thread.
Her wild pulse beats in our kiss, and I swear she can taste the thunder of my heart, too.
It doesn’t take long for her moans to descend into ragged little sobs—then it’s my name she gasps as she breaks.
Pleasure surges at the sound, bringing with it a wave of possessiveness.
That mouth is made for my name.
A groan rips free from my chest as I come so hard I nearly black out.
Her release resonates with mine, and I hold on tight, guiding her through every jolt, every twitch, every sigh.
Into the aftermath.
And beyond.
When we finally pull apart, we’re both panting.
Her lips are shiny and swollen. My pulse roars, heart threatening to rip straight through my ribs. Despite my ruined boxers, there’s still a twitch beneath the denim of my jeans.
No part of me is ready to let go.
Isla’s glassy eyes lift to mine, unreadable. "That shouldn’t have happened,” she whispers in a voice as thin as ice.
Still, even as her words push me away, her fists stay knotted in my shirt.
“Isla…” I’m done hiding behind excuses. “Earlier in my room, I didn’t stop you because I don’t want you.”
Her brow furrows, lips parting like she’s about to question me.
“I stopped you because I want more than one time with you. I want everything you’re willing to give me. Every fucking string, Sunshine.”
“I don’t know what to say. That’s…”
“Terrifying,” I supply. “But true.”
“Then what’s the point of being scared?” Her gaze drops to her feet. When she looks up again, the intensity in her eyes slices clean through me. “Let’s just have fun for the rest of the holiday. This thing”—she gestures between us—“clearly worked.”
“Clearly.” The evidence is still hot against my skin.
“And it worked well.”
“Very well.” My mouth burns with the need to keep kissing her.
