Page 68 of Mistletoe & Magic
That’s all it takes. His flannel is off in seconds, then his jeans, my sweater, and the cold air feels like fire where our skin meets. He kisses me until I’m dizzy, until I can’t think about anything except getting closer.
He pushes my jeans down, his hands firm on my thighs as he steps between them, and then he’s inside me in one deep, perfect thrust that knocks the air out of my lungs.
“Remy—”
He groans my name and starts to move, slow at first, then faster when I grip his shoulders and beg him not to stop. The desk creaks under us, papers sliding to the floor, but I don’t care. All I can feel is him, filling me, grounding me, setting me on fire all at once.
When I come, it’s sharp and sweet, my whole body shuddering around him. He follows with a low, broken sound, holding me so tight I can feel his heart racing against mine.
We stay tangled together, breathing hard, the office silent except for the faint hum of the heater and the sound of us coming back down.
Finally, he pulls back just enough to look me in the eye, thumb brushing my cheek.
“That clear enough for you?” he asks, voice still rough.
I grin, flushed and wrecked in the best way. “Crystal.”
“I haven’t been with anyone in years,” Remy says quietly. “I know you’re on birth control; I’ve seen the packets.”
I nod, “And I got tested when I found out Derek was cheating. I’ve only been with you since. I’m clear.”
He kisses me again, slow and sweet this time, sealing something I think we’ve both been waiting on for years.
Remy finally steps back, still close enough that his breath brushes my lips. My sweater is hanging half off the desk, his flannel is crumpled on the floor, and there are a few pine needles on the back of my jeans from the desk.
“Well,” I whisper, catching my breath. “That was…”
He grins, smug and gorgeous. “Productive?”
I swat his chest, laughing as I hop down from the desk, legs still shaky. “You’re a hard worker.”
He bends to grab his flannel, shrugging it back on, but not before I get another long look at that chest that should be illegal.
“You think Tate heard us?” I ask, pulling my sweater over my head.
His grin widens. “If he did, he’s probably out there taking his sweet time, so he doesn’t have to walk in on us.”
I groan, covering my face with my hands. “He’s never going to let me live this down.”
“Good,” Remy says, stepping closer and hooking a finger under my chin until I look up at him. “I want everyone to know exactly how crazy I am about you.”
Heat blooms in my chest, soft and sweet this time. “You are ridiculous.”
“Yeah,” he says, leaning in to steal one last, slow kiss. “Ridiculous for you.”
When we finally leave the office and step outside the barn, the air is colder, the stars sharp against the dark sky. Tate is leaning against the fence with his arms crossed and a look that says he knows everything.
“Everything good in there?” he calls, one brow arched.
“Inventory check,” Remy says smoothly, grabbing my hand and tugging me toward the truck.
Tate just smirks. “Sure. Inventory.”
I bury my face in my scarf, trying not to laugh, and Remy squeezes my fingers.
“Date night tomorrow,” he murmurs as he helps me into the truck. “No customers, no interruptions. Just you and me.”
“Promise?”
