Page 10 of Mistletoe Masquerade
“I’m originally from California. My parents are still there.”
“That’s quite the shift. What made you decide to leave the West Coast?”
“Art. I’m a … I mean, I own a gallery.”
“Really? That’s impressive. Is it a family business?” She’s young to own a gallery all by herself, but stranger things have happened.
“No, not family, but it’s not just mine. It’s … complicated.” She looks down at her hands—a sign I take to mean she’s not crazy about the subject matter, so I detour the conversation.
“Rumor has it there may be a Nor’easter snowstorm coming for Christmas.”
“Really?” She perks up, excitement brightening her eyes. “A white Christmas would be amazing.”
“I agree now that my job doesn’t require me to be out in the elements.”
“Oh, yeah. I didn’t think about that. Did you get stuck working out in storms very often?”
“Not often, but more than I would’ve liked,” I answer in a playful tone. “It doesn’t matter how many layers you wear when it’s negative ten outside. Early on, I was too dumb to use those heat packs and thought I was going to lose my toes after directing traffic in a storm. The worst part was warming back up.”
“You have to do it slowly, or it’ll hurt.” Her words hang in the air. While I don’t think she initially meant to make a play on words, the double entendre can’t be ignored.
We glance at one another, and her eyes widen with surprise.
Amusement hooks my lips into a crooked smile. “Definitely don’t want it to hurt.”
She coughs to hide a chuckle. “Not when it doesn’t have to, though a tiny bit of burn never hurt anyone.” Her eyes cut to mine again, and the desire in her stare has me forgetting to breathe.
Fuck.
Me.
Christmas has come early. I have no idea what I’ve done to deserve this woman, nor do I care. I don’t want to question any of it and risk breaking the spell.
I hit the accelerator, drawing a giggle from beside me. It only takes another minute before we arrive at my building. Neither of us says much while we park and ride the elevator up to my apartment. There’s no room for words with the sexual tension billowing all around us. Every second that ticks by ratchets up the pressure. My heart thuds a primal beat against my inner ear, and my lungs burn with the need for oxygen. The need for Sachi.
When I finally open my apartment, I watch her with curiosity as she takes in the sight.
My place is big. And nice.Verynice.
I prefer not to take dates home with me because it inevitably raises questions, but I could hardly back out when she took me up on the offer to come here. I want this too damn much to worry about what she might think about my money.
As I watch her taking in her surroundings, I’m struck by how much I enjoy seeing her here in my space. How much I want her to stay. I could see myself curled up with her on a rainy day, watching movies from the sofa. It’s madness. I don’t know her well enough to want things like that, yet the thoughts surface unbidden. I can’t deny the urge is there.
As are other more … pressing … urges.
I close the distance between us, stopping inches behind her, and slip my jacket off her shoulders. She shivers.
“Cold?” I ask in a gruff, lust-filled murmur.
“Not even a little.” Her face turns back toward mine, heat blazing in her eyes.
For the first time in my life, I feel a twinge of understanding for the monsters I hunt down and arrest because I sense I might be capable of depraved, unholy things if it would mean seeing that look in her eyes again and again.
“I need to fuck you, Sachi.” I know I shouldn’t be so blunt, but I can’t help myself.
Ineedher.
“I think I’d like that very much.” Her voice is a sensual caress against my skin.
