Page 88 of Mistletoe All the Way

Oh god. I think it is. He looks away, down, then back up.

And my chest cracks open.

He’s shy about this?

But I wait for him to say more, and soon he does. “I… hope it’s not presumptuous but I, um. Fuck,” he mutters, scrubbing a hand across his beard. “Bought this just in case. For us.”

The teasing about competitions and coming is long gone. I’m so unbearably touched by his honesty that all I can do is offer my own. “Good. That’s so good, Noah.”

I reach for the condom, open the wrapper, and roll it on.

His breath hitches with every touch from me. When it’s in place, he leans over me, bracing himself on one arm. The man is strong. Broad, sturdy, with wiry chest hair covering his pecs, and a trail descending down the ladder of his abs.

“I’d ask how you want me, but I’m going to tell you instead,” he says.

And I guess he’s not shy all the time. “Tell me,” I ask, aching for him, for however he’s going to have me.

“Hands and knees, sweetheart. I need to touch you everywhere.”

I didn’t think it was possible to be more aroused. I was wrong.

Scrambling around, I obey. He kneels behind me, then lets out a long, appreciative groan. “Don’t think for a second I forgot about this.” He presses a palm possessively against my tattoo, the small paw print on my lower back.

I smile. “I won’t.”

My smile burns off when he lines up, rubbing the head of his cock against my wetness.

I gasp.

I can feel him smile.

And even though I like the tenderness, I like the challenge too. So I crane my neck, look back at him, his muscles coiled, his jaw tight, and I say, “Ticktock.”

“You asked for it, sweetheart.”

And he sinks into me, inch by inch, filling me all the way. It’s… a lot. And it’s so damn good at the same time.

“Hold on,” I say.

He stills. “This okay?”

“Yes. Just adjusting.” I toss him another look. “To the empirical evidence.”

He grins, then slides his hand up my back, hot and possessive. His smile burns off and the word mine seems to fall from his lips.

I breathe, relax, and say, “Now, fuck me hard.”

“Anything you want,” he says, and I have the fleeting thought that he means it. Really means it. Anything I want.

At least he means it in bed. Since he fucks me deep, with a focused determination that is so very him. Learning me quickly, reading me, then giving me what I need. A hand on one breast, then down my stomach, then right between my thighs.

Pleasure pulses, hot and achy.

He rubs a thumb against my clit, touching me there while driving into me.

And soon, very soon, I’m lost to the sensations. To the coil of bliss in my belly. To the shaking in my legs. To the blurring in my brain.

And to the world spinning out as heat radiates to every cell in my body, and I break apart.