Page 77 of The Unhinged Christmas of a Cat Lady
“Hi,” I murmur, because it’s the only word that doesn’t feel absurd.
She huffs a laugh. “Hi.”
And just like that, the air changes again. Less charged. More… something else. Something promising.
I open the car door properly this time, and she slips in, eyes still on mine as she settles into the seat.
The drive back is quiet, but not awkward. There’s a buzz between us now, subtle but insistent, like the last chord of a song still hanging in the air. At a red light, I shift in my seat and glance at her.
Her hand is resting on her thigh—close, inviting. I reach over, palm up, and after the briefest hesitation, she slips her hand into mine. Our fingers thread together like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
She doesn’t look at me, just smiles out the window, but I see it. The way her thumb brushes lightly against mine. The way she shifts a little closer in her seat.
And we stay like that, quietly connected, all the way home.
When I pull up in the drive, I kill the engine but don’t move from my seat. Neither does she.
She turns to me, lips parted like she might say something, but I lean in and kiss her again.
This one’s slower. Less urgency, more intention. Her hand comes up to rest lightly against my chest, fingers curling into the fabric of my coat like she wants to anchor herself there.
When we part, I don’t move far. Just enough to speak against her lips. “I don’t want the evening to be over.”
Her eyes flick to mine, warm and a little breathless. “It doesn’t have to be.”
My heart does a quiet, smug little somersault.
“But…” she adds, teasing now, “if we go to mine, I have to share you with Twinklesocks.”
I grin. “She does love me. But let’s head to mine so I can give you my full attention.”
She nods, lips curving. “Lead the way.”
The moment the front door clicks shut behind us, Miranda’s lips are on mine, fierce and hungry. There’s no preamble, no easing into it—just raw, urgent need. Her hands are already in my hair, tugging gently as she presses against me, her body warm and insistent. I wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her closer, feeling the soft curves of her frame against my chest. My fingers fumble with the zip, her skin brushing against mine, electric and alive.
“Fuck, I want this so much,” she murmurs between kisses, her breath hot on my lips. Her voice is thick with desire. I don’t bother responding with words; instead, I deepen the kiss, my tongue tangling with hers, tasting the sweetness of her lipstick, the hint of wine from earlier. Her hands slide down my back, nails scraping lightly over my shirt, and I shiver at the sensation.
We’re moving before I even realise it, stumbling toward the bedroom, clothes becoming an afterthought. My jacket hits the floor first, followed by her dress, which pools around her ankles. She steps out of it gracefully, her underwear a delicate lace that contrasts with the wildness of the moment. I pause for a fraction of a second, taking in the sight of her—her blonde hair tousled, her cheeks pink, her eyes sparkling with want. She’s breathtaking, and I’m acutely aware of how lucky I am to have her here, in my arms, in my house.
“Come on,” she whispers, tugging at my shirt, and I let her pull it over my head, tossing it aside without a second thought. Her fingers trace the muscles of my chest, and I feel a surge of pride at her touch, at the way her gaze lingers on me.
We’re kissing again as we reach the bedroom, the bed a welcome sight. I push her gently backward until she’s lying on the mattress, her hair fanning out against the pillows. I follow her down, my weight careful not to crush her, but I can’t resist the urge to hover above her, to feel the power of the moment. Her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me closer, and I groan into her mouth, my hands roaming over her body, mapping every curve, every dip.
“Jasper,” she sighs, her voice a plea, and I know exactly what she wants. I trail kisses down her neck, her collarbone, my lips brushing against the lace of her bra. She arches her back, pressing herself into me, and I take my time, teasing her, my fingers working the clasp of her bra until it gives way. I pull it off slowly, tossing it aside, and her breasts are revealed, full and soft, her nipples already tight with anticipation.
“Someone is enjoying this,” I growl.
I take one in my mouth, sucking gently, and she gasps, her hands tangling in my hair. “Fuck, Jasper,” she moans, her voice shaking, and I smile against her skin, the vibration sending a shiver through her. I switch to the other breast, lavishing it with the same attention, my hands moving down her body, over her stomach, her hips. She’s squirming beneath me, her legs tightening around me, and I can feel her heat through the thin fabric of her knickers.
“Tell me what you want,” I murmur, my lips brushing against hers, my breath hot and heavy.
“You,” she replies without hesitation. “I want you. Now.”
Her words send a jolt of desire through me, and I move quickly, pulling her knickers off in one swift motion.
“Look how wet you are for me,” I groan at the sight, at the scent of her, musky and sweet. I kiss my way down her body, my lips trailing over her stomach, her thighs, until I’m kneeling between her legs, her most intimate place inches from my face.
“Jasper,” she whispers, her voice trembling, and I look up at her, meeting her gaze. There’s a vulnerability in her eyes, a trust that makes my heart swell. I press a gentle kiss to her inner thigh, then another, moving closer, my breath ghosting over her sensitive skin. She’s tense, anticipating my touch, and I take my time, teasing her, my tongue flicking lightly over her clit before I finally part her folds, tasting her, savouring her.
