Page 86 of The Mistletoe Kisser
Stan the sheep got bored and wandered back to his place in front of the fire.
“What’s the question?” she whispered. If he asked her to pick up his dry cleaning or sheepsit, she would die on the spot. Then she’d come back to life just to throw him and his sheep out of her house.
“Can I kiss you goodnight?”
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She nodded slowly. The answer he needed to his question.
“How do you like to be kissed, Sammy?” Ryan’s voice was quiet, but the words felt like gravel in his throat.
The black ribbon slipped from her fingers, hitting the floor and unraveling as it rolled toward the wall.
She sighed into the space between their mouths. “I-I don’t know. I liked how you kissed me before.”
He slid his hands down her arms to her wrists, tugging her forward. When her toes brushed his shoes, she still wasn’t close enough to his liking. So he lifted her to stand on top of his feet.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Research.” And then his mouth was dipping to hers. Her lips, soft and full, yielded to his immediately. The seam between them widened as he traced the tip of his tongue over it. And then she was opening for him, surrendering to him.
He groaned as her tongue met his. The kiss was sweeter, headier than he could have imagined. He intended to pace himself. To sample, not devour. But she tasted like so many forbidden things, and he couldn’t get enough. The stroke of his tongue against hers was possessive, aggressive. She let out another breathy sigh that did strange things to his pulse.
He was playing with fire. And though he thought he’d assessed the risk, the second she breathed his name, he knew he’d miscalculated.
Ryan’s New List
1. Find out how this woman says his name when he’s inside her.
Leaning down, he slid his hands under her and lifted. She wrapped those candy cane socks around his waist as he spun them around. The table was the closest available flat surface. He shoved crafting paraphernalia out of the way, sending some of it tumbling to the floor.
McClane the cat stalked off the table in a huff.
And then Ryan was placing her on the white oak and sliding his hands under her ancient sweatshirt.
“Yes?” he whispered against her mouth, fingers stroking the taut skin of her stomach.
“God, yes,” she breathed. Her fingers dove into his hair and tugged hard.
He found the edge of a cropped tank top just under her breasts. And just as he was ready to glide his hands under the cotton and over the softest, smoothest skin he’d ever encountered, Sammy pulled back.
“Wait. You don’t do one-night stands,” she reminded him.
“I seem to be doing a lot of things I don’t do.” His palms inched higher as he kissed her again.
She moaned, and his hard-on began to pulse painfully behind his zipper.
“Wait,” she said again, breaking away from his mouth. “I don’t want to force you into anything.”
“Stop being honorable and take advantage of me, Sparkle,” he growled.
“Well, if you insist.” With one hand on the back of his neck, she reached for the fly of his jeans.
She managed to pop the button before he kissed her again. As his tongue swept into her mouth, she lowered his zipper. The kiss was hard and desperate. He slid his hands up the last inch to cup her breasts.
“Finally,” he breathed, as those soft curves welcomed his touch.
Sammy’s head fell back, and the hand that had been poised to dive into the front of his jeans went limp as he brushed his palms over both pebbled peaks. Touching wasn’t enough. He had to see her. To taste her.
