Page 51 of His Christmas Wife

When he quirked an eyebrow in a seductive way, common sense fled. Slowly she slid her hand into his.

Frost helped her up then, with his hands on her shoulders, and continued to draw her toward him until they stood scant inches apart, breathing the same air.

“I’ve been obsessing about this.” Then he dropped his voice slightly, demandingly. “Open your mouth for me.”

Helpless to deny him, she did as he said, and he touched his tongue to hers.

He tasted of the sweet cocoa, laced with the undercurrent of peppermint. It was as potent as it was irresistible.

Earlier, his kiss had been tame, but now it was unrestrained, devouring her as he slid his tongue into her mouth, teasing, thrusting.

In his arms, she surrendered, and he pressed a palm to the base of her spine, nudging her closer. His cock pressed against the softness of her belly, turning her insides into a river of need.

His kiss went on and on until her lips were swollen, and every womanly instinct urged her to yield to his masculine power.

Finally, leaving her gulping for air, he ended the kiss and dropped the hand he’d pressed to her back.

As she tried to orient herself, she squeezed her eyes shut.

“Are you okay?”

Am I?And a bigger question was, would she be all right when their fake romance came to an end? “You’re…ah…pretty good at that.” The kiss, for sure, but so much more than that. Coaxing her responses, making her feel safe, caring for her, the flowers, treating her like a princess. That alone stood in such sharp contrast to the way Dwayne had behaved. Even when she was dealing with her father’s death, he’d been demanding of her time. And he hadn’t bothered showing up for the funeral. She had no doubt Frost would always behave in a way that conformed to societal expectations.

“I could do that with you all day long.” His voice was husky with desire.

These moments that they were sharing, tiny glimpses of emotional intimacy, were wearing down her defenses, making him more human, ridiculously tempting.

She wasn’t sure she’d survive Frost’s determination.

“Shall we go upstairs?”

Could she manage to walk that far? The room already seemed to swim around her. “Yes.”

To give herself a moment to compose herself, and because it was ingrained, she paused to collect their empty cups.

He told her, “Leave them. The housekeepers will clean up.”

“It will only take a few minutes for me to wash the dishes and straighten the kitchen,” she protested.

“I said, leave them.” His voice allowed no argument. With that, he swept her off the ground and into his arms.

Gasping, desperate to regain her balance, she clung onto him. It was a mistake because his scent was heady with determination and raw masculinity.

“You need to do as you’re told.” His voice was uncompromising.

Despite the jostling movements as he walked, she tilted her head to look at him. Intuition flashed a warning not to tease him, but she was helpless to resist. “Or else what, Mr. Frost?”

“I’ll show you.”

“Is that a promise or a threat?”

“What would you like it to be?”

Dangerous, unexplored territory lay ahead. Dare she admit the truth to both of them?

When she didn’t answer, he made the decision for her. “It’s both. Consider yourself warned, my tempting sub.”

His use of a scene nickname sent her into a different headspace, making her response natural and swift. “If you say so, Sir.”

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