Page 86 of The Crush of Christmas Past
But it’s not what she’s wearing that ensnares me.
It’sher.
There’s a new steadiness in her stance, and that beautiful golden gaze shines with the knowledge she owns me. The rest of her is just as enticing. Her nipples strain against the thin material of her bra, begging for attention. And between her thighs? Even from here, that darkened patch of fabric is impossible to miss.
She’s wet.
For me. For this. For us.
The sight goes straight to my cock.
She lets me drink her in—andfuck, I do. Slowly. Greedily. Intimately. Indulging my senses like I’ll never get another chance to be this close to her again.
A bold grin plays on her lips at my reaction.
I’m breaking, and she knows it.
“I like the idea of being your Christmas gift,” she says, slipping the shirt on. “Theo’s toy to enjoy.”
“Is that really what you want?”
“Yes. I’d like to be yours for the night. Show me what it takes.” As if that’s not devastating enough, she bats her lashes and tacks on a sweet “Please.”
I don’t dare question thefor the nightpart. It hits too close to strings I can’t afford to tug on right now.
Instead, I steer us toward the things we’re both dying to explore.
My shirt. Her pleasure.
And this inexplicable heat between us.
Twenty-Seven
Theo
“WhereshouldIunwrapmy present, Sunshine?”
Desk. Wall. Floor.
Edge of the fucking world.
I’ll take her anywhere. Want her everywhere.
“On the bed? Surrounded bymygifts?” There’s a hint of hesitation, but it’s not fear that flashes in her voice. It’s curiosity.
She’s testing me. Confirming I’ll respond the way that meets her needs.
“That sounded like a question. Say it like you mean it.”
Her spine straightens. Challenge glints in her eyes. “On the bed,” she repeats, firmer this time. “Play with your new toy on the bed.” She shoots me a proudlittle grin.
“Shit, Isla.” My pulse kicks up and my body tenses, waiting for the go-ahead to pounce. “Get on.”
She backs up, eyes never leaving mine. When she reaches the edge of the mattress, she sinks down with a soft sigh. Her legs dangle, toes grazing the carpet.
“Take off your underwear,” I instruct.
She leans back and lifts her hips, hooking her thumbs into the waistband.
