Page 45 of Mistletoe All the Way

I set my hand on the doorjamb, leaning against it. “So you thought a sneak attack with mistletoe would help me get in the Christmas spirit?”

She drags her teeth across her lower lip, and holy fuck. That’s too sexy. Too inviting. I stare too long.

“It wouldn’t hurt you to practice being festive,” she says with a bob of her shoulder. “It’s important.”

I swallow roughly. Glance at the lounge pants in my other hand. Check out the mistletoe again. Then I look back at her, standing here, chin raised, looking like… Ah, fuck it.

I toss the pants to the bed. They land on the edge of the mattress. “Is kissing under the mistletoe festive?”

Her blue and green eyes flicker with anticipation. “I don’t know. Is it?” It’s a volley of a question.

I keep playing. “Should I find out?”

When she licks her lips, everything in me stirs. “For the sake of the season,” she says, and a jolt of excitement shoots down my spine.

Fuck it, indeed. I lift a hand, graze my fingertips down her soft cheek.

A gust of breath seems to escape her pretty lips. They part, and the sound she makes is a giving in. A murmur that goes straight to my bones. My thumb slides down her jaw, tracing a line. She moves with my hand, leaning into my touch. It’s heady, the way she seeks it.

All I can think is Yes, yes, yes.

I dip my face, brush my lips to hers, and capture a kiss. My breath hitches. My entire body shudders. A tremor shoots down my back.

From a barely there kiss.

Her lips are soft. Her breath is minty. She sways subtly, easing closer to me.

I should stop the kiss.

But Eloise grabs the fabric of my Henley, her fist wrapping around the material by the neckline, and kisses me back.

She’s all soft lips, determined mouth, sleek hair dusting against my cheek. And that’s it. I’m melting into her.

Soon, very soon, this kiss could turn into an all-night-long kind of thing—something I won’t want to back away from.

But I should.

Now.

Right now.

I swear.

I linger for another mind-bending second or two in the dark of the night, the embrace of the snow blurring out the rest of the world, the faint dying glow of a fire down the hall.

Until finally, we break apart.

I don’t say anything for several seconds.

She just blinks. Like she needs to reconnect to reality too.

Then I nod, blow out a breath, and murmur, “Festive.”

“Can confirm,” she says, a little raspy. “You’re very festive.”

“Is this part of the contest?”

In no time, she shakes her head. “No, you shouldn’t kiss anyone else.”