Page 28 of Christmas in Kiwi Country

“Never said I would.”

Her legs tip open, allowing me better access, and I adjust my hand to slide my middle finger up and down her slit. Her cheeks are pink, and her pulse beats wildly along the column of her throat as she takes a sip of her wine.

Couples whisper mere feet from us as they enjoy the food, drink, and view, but the only view I’m focused on is the way Gwen’s lips wrap around the grape and the sharp intake of breath as I circle her clit.

“How is everything?” The waiter comes back and smiles brightly.

“Everything is wonderful,” I say as I continue to tease my date under the table. She smiles and nods, but she’s fighting to keep her lips from parting on a gasp.

He turns with practiced ease, heading toward the next table across the lawn, and I thrust my middle finger inside Gwen. Her hands grip the table, causing the silverware to rattle on the crisp white linens.

“Cullen.” My name is half moan, half hiss as I tease her over and over, sliding up her slit and back into her wet heat.

In all my life, I’ve never been this bold—this brazen—but I want this woman to know exactly what she does to me.

“Do you have any idea how exquisite you look right now?” I murmur before taking a sip from my glass. I make a point of circling the dark liquid without taking my eyes from her half-hooded ones.

She’s fighting the pleasure that’s pulsing through her veins. She hasn’t taken a bite of food, her breathing is erratic, and her body is practically humming with her impending release. All day she’s been immaculate—put together—and so damn sexy that I can’t help the thrill of seeing her come undone that shoots straight to my dick.

“Don’t make a sound,” I murmur.

Worrying that plump bottom lip between her teeth, Gwen’s eyelids fall closed as she swivels her hips before shattering on a whimper. She grips my finger like a vise as wave after wave of pleasure washes over her.

She’s gorgeous like this. Raw. Powerful.

A lesser man would look at us and think I hold all the cards in this moment, but they’d be dead wrong. This woman owns her pleasure here, at this table, hidden in plain sight.

She’s glorious, from her parted lips to the pink flush that paints her chest up to her cheeks. Her blonde hair blows gently around her face, but when she meets my gaze, her blue eyes sparkle, heat simmering in their depths.

Without looking away, I slide my hand slowly from her heat and bring my finger to my mouth. Her expression is devilish as she watches me because she knows—she knows that once we’re alone, really alone, I’ll do far more than just savor a mere taste of her.

“Mr. Andrews,” she purrs as she places her napkin on the table next to her plate. If I wasn’t watching, I’d miss the slight shake of her hand. “I think I’d like to get dessert to go.”

Her eyes rake down my body, and I’m not ashamed to say that I puff my chest out a little for her pleasure. I’m nothing if not accommodating.

“Your wish, Ms. Slate,”—I lean forward until we’re a breath apart—“is my command.” Closing the distance, I seal my lips against hers because there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for this woman, and right now, she wants another orgasm.

17

GWEN

With only a few days until Christmas, we said goodbye to Auckland and began our trek to Whangarei. I’d fallen in love with the pictures of the waterfall and the quarry gardens, and it happened to be the perfect place to stop for a few days before going to Paihia for the holiday.

After stocking up on more knickknacks, adorable Christmas cards with Kiwi birds wearing Santa hats, and pineapple lumps, we hit the road. Rolling hills of farmland stretch out before us, but Cullen seems more interested in my reaction than takin’ in the scenery.

He’s traveled more than most people would in their lifetime, but he’s never reallyseenwhat any of those places have to offer. Still, he seems enraptured with me all the same while paradise is all around us.

The sky’s the perfect shade of blue with fluffy, white clouds that float lazily with the breeze. “Boots ‘N All” by Kaylee Bell starts to play, and it’s exactly the kind of song the girls back home would love. I make a mental note to message them later because I don’t want to miss a thing right now.

Everything here is breathtaking, from the trees to the water to the people and food. New Zealand is everything I dreamed it would be and more. With my arm out the window, I throw my head back and laugh as the warm air rushes over my skin.

Cullen grins and drops his hand onto my thigh with a squeeze where my dress has ridden up. His thumb skates back and forth and I love this—this man and this moment and everything in between—and I soak it all in.

We drive for what seems like hours inside minutes before finally arriving in Whangarei. A large parking lot is practically full as people mill about the shops, most likely finishing their holiday shopping. We should go check in to the quaint little hotel we booked, but a hand-painted sign announces that a “Sausage Sizzle” is taking place, and I never turn down a sausage.

Tapping Cullen on the arm, I point to the sign, and he gives me a knowing grin before slowing and turning into the lot.

“Why am I not surprised, Red?” He chuckles and I gasp before joining him and laughing. After parking, we make our way over and stand in line. Running my fingers through my hair, I smile as Cullen’s hand lands on the small of my back.

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