Page 49 of Mistletoe & Magic
Wanted.
I strip the rest of her clothes and then mine. The way she’s looking at me right now is something I’ll never forget.
Her hair spills over my pillow like a halo, her cheeks flushed, her lips swollen from kissing. I have imagined this a hundred times, but nothing could have prepared me for the real thing.
I kiss her, slowly at first, because I want to remember this moment. Her hands slide into my hair and hold me there, kissing me back like she wants me just as much.
I trail my mouth down her jaw and throat, tasting the soft salt of her skin and breathing her in. She smells like soap and something warm and sweet that is only her. I cannot stop touching her, the curve of her hip, the hollow at her waist, the smooth line of her thigh. She is soft everywhere and perfect, and I take my time, learning every inch. I gently pinch, sucking and licking her nipples. Her hands trail from my back to my chest, almost as if she is memorizing every inch of me as I am with her.
My hands rise, slow, and she draws a breath that shakes a little. I cup her gently, thumbs skimming the warm swell, a light tease that has her arching into my palms. Heat runs through me.I lower my head and let my mouth follow, lingering at the edge where her heartbeat flutters under my lips, tasting the heat there while my hands coax another soft sound from her. She answers me without hesitation, guiding me closer, greedy for more in a way that makes my control slip.
She is not passive for a second. Her hands claim me, bold and sure, sliding over my hips and lower, then up my back in a slow path that pulls a rough sound from my chest. Fingertips first, mapping muscle, then the light scrape of nails that turns the air bright and dark at once. I savor the way she reaches and takes, how we meet in the middle with nothing left to hold back.
When I slip two fingers into her, she gasps and her hands bite into my shoulders. She does not pull away. She rises to meet me, eyes fluttering, breath catching on a sound that goes straight through my chest. The way she opens for me, the way she trusts me to learn her rhythm and keep her there, steadies me and undoes me at the same time. She is heat and velvet under my hand, pulse quick against my fingertips, and every soft plea she gives me makes my control slip another inch. I match her, slow at first, then deeper in the way she asks without words, and the look on her face makes me feel like I am holding something precious and burning and absolutely mine to take care of.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” I whisper, because I have to say it. She is watching me with those wide, dark eyes, and she deserves to know exactly what she is doing to me.
I take my time, stroking her until she’s pulsing under me, her breathing ragged. I want her to feel good. I want to be the one who makes her fall apart. When she finally cries out, trembling, pride and hunger crashes through me at once.
“That’s it,” I murmur against her throat, holding her through it. “Good girl.”
She pulls me down for a kiss, wild and desperate now. Herhands skim my chest and back like she is mapping me, memorizing me, and I swear I almost lose it right there.
“Tell me what you want,” I manage.
“You,” she says instantly, breathless. “All of you.”
God help me.
I take my time. I want this to be good for her, something she will never forget. I have waited so long for this with her, and now that she is here, in my bed, I am determined not to rush.
I reach in my drawer for a new box of condoms I’ve had for a while, just in case. Not that I’ve needed them. I hurry and put one on, her watching my every move, hooded eyes looking like she can’t wait another minute for this.
She tips her hips and opens for me, legs easing wider, eyes dark steady on mine. Her breath comes fast, chest lifting, then falling, a small sound catching in her throat when I brush along her and hold there. I have to brace a hand beside her head just to keep from rushing. She watches me with a hungry, certain look that strips me down to the truth.
I take my time, guiding us together, teasing along the place that makes her squirm and clutch at my shoulders. The sight of her focused on the space between us nearly undoes me. My jaw locks. I breathe through it and press forward a little, then pause, feeling the way she welcomes me, the way she relaxes and draws me closer. Another breath. A little more. Slow, careful, deliberate, until there is no space left, and we are all the way there.
I rest my forehead to hers and try to steady the thud in my chest. She is heat and velvet around me, tight and perfect, and the trust in her eyes wrecks me. I force myself to go slow because I want to feel every second of this, every small shift and soft sound. I want her to know I am here for all of it, not just the blaze but the way it builds, the way it lasts.
“You okay?” I ask, searching her face.
She nods, her fingers digging into my shoulders. “Yes. Please don’t stop, Remy.”
I move, slowly and steadily, watching her expression with every thrust. Her mouth falls open, her lashes fluttering, and she is so beautiful it hurts to look at her.
“Ivy,” I rasp. “You feel so good. I never want this to end.”
She clenches around me and whimpers, and I bury my face against her neck to hold back a groan. I keep the pace deep and even, wanting to draw it out, to make her come again before I let myself go.
Her back arches, her nails drag down my back, and she calls out my name like she means it. That is all it takes. I give in, moving faster now, chasing my own release until it hits me hard, pulling a rough sound from my throat as I come hard.
I collapse on my side, pulling her with me, both of us breathing hard. She is flushed and glowing, her hair a mess, her lips curved in the softest smile.
“We really just did that,” she whispers.
“Yeah,” I say, pressing a kiss to her hair. “And I’m not done with you yet.”
Her quiet laugh vibrates against my chest, and for the first time in years, I feel completely, bone-deep whole.
