Page 16 of Christmas in Kiwi Country

Cullen’s lack of basically all culinary knowledge makes his eagerness to learn such a turn-on. I fan my face as I watch him and it’s not an exaggeration. His khaki pants are practically molded to his form, his ass framed perfectly for my eager gaze.

I hadn’t really dated seriously since Cheyenne’s father and I divorced, and despite what people thought, I was happy. Cullen hadn’t tried to impress me with his bank account or his fancy car and clothes. He’d done that with his thoughtfulness, his ability to listen and communicate, and I’d never complain about that sinfully delectable body he kept hidden under his big-city threads.

His movements startle me as he turns and stalks back down the hall.

“Thought you’d be naked by now,” he says in a low voice as he presses my back against the wall. His fingertips trace a sensual line from the top of my skirt and up between my breasts. He follows the line of each lacy bra cup before dipping his head and sucking the nipple through the fabric.

My hand instantly finds his hair, and I grip the salt-and-pepper strands. I tug slightly and he groans as my other hand moves down to palm his length.

“Don’t rush me,” he warns even as his hips rock against my touch.

“Do I ever?”

“Almost every time.” He chuckles and his hot breath on my skin causes goose bumps to erupt all over my body.

He’s not wrong. Cullen savors me like an expensive bottle of brandy. His palate is refined, and it shows in the way he builds me up higher than I ever knew was possible.

The man is an Adonis and I love being the object of his affection, desire, and obsession—but right now I need more.

“Can you take your time later?” I plead, and his gaze meets mine for a second before his hands cup my face and he’s moving us back down the hall.

“Later.”

“Yes.” I breathe the promise that he can have me however he wants for as long as he wants.

Forever.

The word flashes through my mind, but it’s gone just as quickly as Cullen explores every inch of my mouth with his tongue. His hands expertly remove my shirt and bra before he’s cupping my breasts and rolling my nipples between his fingers.

“Cullen,” I moan as my arms grip his biceps before moving to pull his shirt from where it’s tucked into his pants and then digging my nails into his flesh.

“I’ve waited a lifetime to be able to savor you.” His lips barely graze my skin as he kisses along my jaw to my ear. “And all you want is to bedevoured.”

“Yes.Please, Cullen.”

The bastard chuckles but there’s no humor to it. Pulling back, he rips his shirt over his head as my fingers fumble with the zipper on my skirt. He watches approvingly as the fabric pools at my feet, leaving me in only a lacy pair of panties.

They make me feel beautiful—powerful—even if I was the only one who was ever going to see them. But seeing the look of animalistic need on Cullen’s face has me sending up a tiny thank you prayer that I’d picked these particular ones today.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he says reverently. His voice is strained as he watches me back up toward the bed and lie back on my elbows. His gaze rakes over my body, and his hands are sure as he unhooks his belt and shucks his pants and boxer briefs.

His erection is impressive as it springs free. Seeing him like this steals my breath. He’s all man, and I squeeze my thighs together in response.

One knee eases onto the bed and the other slides between my legs as he brings my knee up to rest against his hip. His hand holds the crook of my knee as he spreads me wide before him.

“Gorgeous,” he murmurs as he leans forward to cover my body with his. The weight of him on top of me is blissful and it’s everything I need.

Almost.

“Cullen.”

Pulling back, he meets my gaze, lust mirrored in his own. Kneeling between my legs, he slides his hands down my sides, over my stomach to the scrap of lace covering my core. After sliding them off and discarding my panties over his shoulder, Cullen settles between my legs once again, this time the head of his cock nudging my entrance.

“I love how wet you are for me,” he murmurs as he drags himself along my slit.

“Stop teasing me.”

“Who said I’m teasingyou?” he counters before slamming all the way inside me. On a gasp and a groan, he stills before rolling his hips against me. Our bodies move in an addictive and sensual dance of slow, hard thrusts, my legs tangled with his as my hands grip his shoulders.

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