Page 100 of Mistletoe All the Way

A few seconds later, she returns with a silky white scarf draped across one palm. “Close your eyes for real now. I have a surprise I think will fill you with the holiday spirit.”

I’m smart enough to do as told. A second later, soft fingers coast across my cheeks. Something silky covers my eyes. “You just seem like somebody who would peek,” she teases.

“I don’t know if that’s a compliment or an insult.”

As she tightens the scarf around the back of my head, she licks the shell of my ear. “Take it however you want.”

Her voice is husky, her touch electric. And my cock thumps against my jeans. “What I want is you.”

She drags a finger down my lips. “Patience.”

I growl in answer.

With a pleased laugh, she walks away. She heads to the kitchen, I suspect, her footsteps growing fainter. I listen closely. The refrigerator door opens. Metal clinks against metal. The door shuts. When she returns, she sets something on the coffee table, I think. She slides her hands along the denim of my jeans, up my thighs to the waistband. Heat roars across my skin. Need pricks at my cells—I need to touch her.

I grab her hands, tug them up to my mouth, and press a kiss to one palm, then the other. I moan softly against her hand.

“Noah,” she says, a plea. “Let me.”

Let me take the lead, she means.

I exhale heavily, then do something that’s hard for me—relax. For her. I’m not used to someone else taking control, in the bedroom or anywhere else. But Eloise wants to be in charge tonight, so I try to let go. My shoulders sink. I exhale. And I try.

Soft kisses graze my cheekbones. A hand slides across my beard. Her orange-citrus scent drifts into my nostrils. My mouth goes dry. My molecules burn up. I feel like an exposed electrical line—frayed, sparking, ready to explode.

From her deliberate and tender touches. From her soft mouth brushing across mine. Even from her breath, sweet and minty.

She is always sweet and minty.

My Eloise.

I will my mind to relax into the moment too. The world is black behind the scarf, but it’s warm here in her place. A cozy temperature that makes you want to curl up next to a lover and never leave. Or, as the case may be, a cat—since silky fur brushes against my forearm.

Eloise laughs. “I guess you get to meet my cat.”

I reach out my hand in the dark and stroke his back. “Hey, buddy,” I say as the kitty arches into my palm. Seconds later, purring greets my ears.

“He never likes anyone,” she says.

“Cats like me.”

She’s quiet for a beat, then whispers, “Me too.”

My heart catches, then squeezes uncomfortably, as if a fist were wrapped around it. It loosens when I say, “Same. It’s the same for you.”

A soft whisper is my reward, her saying a relieved, “Good.”

This woman.

I thread my hands through her hair. “Kiss me.” It’s a demand.

She drops her lips to mine—a soft tease of a kiss that leaves me aching for more when she breaks it.

But she’s clearly in charge. “Time for your reward,” she says.

She slides away from me, sinking down to the floor. Nope. That won’t do. I dart out a hand, grasping for a pillow. Finding one, I offer it to her.

“Such a gentleman,” she teases, then rustles around, likely kneeling on the pillow.