Page 69 of Bragg's Christmas

I groan and tilt her head so I can dive deeper into her mouth to explore every inch, every crevice, every single space. I want to own this woman. I want to taste every single inch of her body. Explore every curve. Discover every hot point that makes her squirm.

Her fingers digging into my shoulders spurs me on. I thread one hand through her hair to keep her head right where it is while my other hand travels down her neck to her breast. I test the weight before squeezing and she shoves her chest into my hand with a sigh.

I glide my hand further down her chest to the hem of her sweater. I flirt with the hem before I remember. We’re out in the living room where Skye could catch us at any moment. She’d have some serious questions I am in no way ready to answer.

I slow the kiss until I can withdraw. We’re both panting for breath. Love’s eyes are bright and unfocused and her lips are swollen. The things I want to do to those lips.

“How do you feel about continuing this in my bedroom?”

I know I’m taking a risk. The likelihood Love will snap out of her haze and say no is high. I know I could kiss her again and carry her to my room with a bit of persuasion. But I’m not dragging her to my bedroom. I am not a caveman. She deserves to make the choice herself.

“Can you make me forget?”

“Angel, I can make you forget everything except how good I make you feel.”

She raises her eyebrows. “Sounds like an offer I can’t refuse.”

I chuckle as I gather her in my arms and stand. “Say yes, Angel.”

“I’m no angel.”

I wiggle my eyebrows. “Maybe I’m the devil who’s ready to dirty an angel.”

“In which case, Mr. Devil will you show this angel how to get dirty? Please.”

“Hell, yeah, I will.”

I hurry up the stairs to my bedroom. I flip on the light before shutting and locking the door and laying Love on the bed. She scoots backward until she’s laying in the middle. Her hair is fanned out behind her and her chest is heaving.

“We have a problem.”

She blinks. “We do? Did you—”

I cut her off before she begins to doubt herself. “You’re wearing entirely too many clothes.”

A blush spreads across her cheeks. “Can you switch the light off first?”

Surprise at her question has me pausing. She must be used to men observing her in the light. She’s been with— I cut those thoughts off. I’m not thinking about Love’s past while she’s in front of me waiting to be ravished.

Besides, Love has proven she’s trying to be a better person. I want to be her biggest supporter. Not the man who questions her every time she says something suspicious.

“How about if I switch the light in the bathroom on with the door mostly shut?”

I phrase the words as a question but I don’t wait for her response before marching to the bathroom to switch on the light there. “Okay?”

“Better,” she whispers – the relief clear to hear in her voice.

I frown. I want her to be comfortable with her body in front of me. We’ll work on it I decide, before pushing the issue out of my mind for now. I’ve got better things to concentrate on at the moment.

“Now.” I kneel on the bed. “I believe someone has too many clothes on.”

I toy with the hem of her sweater. “This has to go.” She raises her hands above her head and I don’t hesitate to whip the item off of her.

Miles and miles of smooth, light olive skin is revealed. I plan to touch every inch. Taste every inch. No, not taste. Worship. Angels are meant to be worshiped.

And those breasts. They strain at the bra containing them. I want to flick her bra open and watch those breasts spill out. I can’t wait to play with them.

Why am I waiting?

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