Page 72 of The Holiday Hate-Off
“Who said anything about sleeping?” I reach up to weave my fingers through her soft curls, a sigh escaping me as their silkiness engulfs my fingers, even better than I’d imagined.
She lifts up a little on her feet, her lips so close to mine I can barely take the teasing. But still, I’m going to let her come to me. She has to be the one to close the final distance between us.
“Will you admit that you messed with the power in our building last weekend?” she asks.
I laugh. “I’ll tell you the truth if you’ll kiss me. Don’t youwonder what it would feel like? I know I do. That’s why I haven’t been sleeping. All night long, all I can think about is your smart mouth.”
Her response is to push up on her heels and press her pretty mouth to mine. Her lips are soft and luscious, and the moment she opens her mouth to me, I’m a goner.
Oh, who am I kidding? I’ve been a goner for days.
I grip her hair a little tighter, tilting her head to deepen the kiss as our tongues meet and do battle.
It’s like I thought it would be.
It’s also better.
I reach down without looking and sweep away the takeout container and empty drink can, which fall to the floor. I don’t care. At this moment, I don’t care about anything but having my mouth on her and her sweet body pressed against mine. Wrapping my hands around her hips, I back her up to the table and lift her onto it, my mouth still on hers.
She gasps into my mouth, and I swallow it. I nearly die when she opens her legs for me, inviting me to invade her space. Stepping in, I bend to her, kissing her harder, full of a deep, pulsing need that’s stolen what’s left of my sense.
I come undone when she wraps her legs around my waist. I’m already hard, so hard it hurts to feel the zipper of my dress pants pressing into my dick, and I roll my hips against her as I deepen our kiss. One of my hands finds her hair again and the other her hip, tugging her into me.
Oh, Christ, this feels good.
Then she pulls away panting, her lips dark pink from our kiss, her eyes full of surprise.
“It was good for you too.” It’s not a question. I fucking know it was.
She scrunches her face up in familiar annoyance, then presses a hand over her eyes. When she looks at me again, I can’t quite read her expression.
“The power,” she says. “Was it you?”
It takes me a second to register what she’s saying. To remember that English is a language I speak too, and I’m normally pretty good at it.
“Are you going to stop kissing me if I say yes?”
“I don’t know,” she says, her legs still wrapped around my waist, keeping me close, my dick pressed against her, hard and needy. “But I want the truth.”
“I did it,” I admit. “I didn’t want you leaving with any of those guys. I couldn’t stand the thought. That guy Brandon’s an asshole. He?—”
“You couldn’t stand thinking about it because Brandon’s an asshole?” she asks, her face so close to mine. So pretty. So damn kissable.
“I was jealous,” I confess.
It’s apparently the right answer, or at least not the wrong one, thank God, because she kisses me again, sucking on my bottom lip. I grind against her as I kiss her back, my breath nearly knocked out of me when she starts rolling her hips into me.
Need spirals through me, coiling tighter and tighter, making me feel like a teenage boy sneaking around and making out in the stockroom. Been there, done that, got caught too. This time we’re out on the main floor, but there’s only a minimal chance that one of my brothers is going to show up this far past closing. My grandmother is hopefully asleep in her bed.
I break our kiss, panting, and say, “Can you push down your stockings? I want to feel you. I need?—”
To feel how wet I know she is, but I don’t want to call it out there.
Sucking on her bottom lip, she lifts up and pushes her stockings down, showing the creamy expanse of her rounded thighs.
I swear under my breath, then swear again as she parts her legs for me, inviting me in again.
I slide between them, then touch her, groaning when I feel the slickness of her need for me. “Oh, Lucia, you feel so good.”
