“Declan,” she said quietly. “What are we doing here?”
“Inventory for my parents,” I said automatically.
“No,” she said, standing up and moving closer. “What are we really doing here?”
The honest answer was that we were fighting an attraction that had been building for days, trapped together in increasingly intimate circumstances, and rapidly running out of reasons to maintain distance that was feeling more unnatural by the minute.
“I don’t know,” I admitted.
“I think you do,” Holly said, stopping directly in front of me. “I think we both do.”
The space between us felt electric. Outside, the storm was howling with increasing intensity, but inside the cabin felt warm and safe and entirely separate from the real world where wehad to worry about appropriate boundaries and professional relationships.
“This is complicated,” I said, though what I was thinking was that nothing had ever felt less complicated than the desire to kiss her again.
“It doesn’t have to be,” Holly said, reaching up to touch my chest. “It can just be... this. Right now. The storm, the cabin, us.”
Her touch sent electricity through my entire system, and when she rose up on her toes to kiss me, rational thought ceased entirely.
This kiss was different from the mistletoe kiss—less tentative, more urgent, carrying days of suppressed attraction and the freedom that came with being out of town and completely alone together. I pulled her closer, and she responded by pressing against me in ways that made it clear that whatever this was, it wasn’t going to stop with kissing.
“Are you sure?” I asked against her lips, giving her one last chance to maintain the boundaries we’d been working so hard to preserve.
“I’m sure,” she whispered, and the way she was looking at me—like I was something precious and desired and entirely worth the risk—made every careful reason for restraint disappear.
It was like the leash was ripped off. Frantic tearing at coats that landed in piles on the floor. I was eager to get my hands on her tits, to suck her nipples and bury my face between them. I hooked my thumbs under the hem of her sweater and pulled it over her head in one swift motion. Her breath hitched, her hands tangling in my hair as the soft wool landed on the floor. She was even more beautiful than I’d imagined, her skin pale and perfect, her plain beige bra doing absolutely nothing to hide the hard points of her nipples.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” I rasped, my fingers fumbling with the clasp at her back.
“Tell me,” she whispered, her voice husky as the bra came loose.
Instead, I lowered my head and took one nipple into my mouth, sucking gently at first, then with more urgency as she arched against me, her hands tangling in my hair and pulling me closer. Every protective instinct, every logical argument about why this was complicated, evaporated in the face of how right this felt. My cock was bursting against my jeans, desperate to get inside her. I groaned against her skin, my other hand cupping her breast, tweaking the nipple as I switched my attention to the other side.
“Declan,” she gasped, her nails digging into my arms through my shirt. “Please.”
I lifted my head, my breath coming in harsh pants as I looked at her. Her lips were swollen from my kisses, her eyes dark with desire, and seeing her like this—wanting me as much as I wanted her—made something fierce and possessive surge through my chest.
“Tell me what you want,” I said, roughly.
“You,” she said simply, reaching for the buttons of my shirt. “Just you.”
Her fingers were trembling slightly as she worked the buttons. It was taking too fucking long. I gripped her ass, dragging her closer to my cock and grinding against her. She moaned into my mouth, her hips rolling against mine in a rhythm that nearly made me come in my pants. I walked her backward toward the bed, lifting her slightly so she could feel exactly what she was doing to me.
We fell onto the narrow mattress together, a tangle of limbs and desperate touches. I braced myself above her, drinking in the sight of her spread out beneath me—flushed cheeks, swollen lips, chest rising and falling rapidly.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I said. “I’ve been going crazy thinking about this.”
“Show me,” she challenged, her fingers working at my belt buckle with determination. “Show me how crazy.”
I helped her with my jeans, shoving them down along with my boxers until I was finally free. Her eyes widened slightly when she saw me, and the hunger in her gaze made my cock throb.
“Your turn,” I said, hooking my fingers into the waistband of her jeans.
She lifted her hips to help me, and I peeled the denim down her legs along with her panties, revealing every gorgeous inch of her. I took my time looking at her, memorizing her gorgeous curves, the soft skin of her inner thighs, the way her pussy was shaven. I groaned and spread her legs, eager to taste her. I lowered my mouth to her, dragging my tongue over her clit in one slow, deliberate stroke. She tasted like heaven. Her hips bucked off the bed, and I had to pin them down with my hands to keep her still.
“Declan,” she gasped, her fingers threading through my hair. “Oh god.”
I circled her clit with my tongue, alternating between gentle licks and harder pressure, learning what made her moan, what made her grip my hair tighter. When I slid one finger inside her, she was so wet and tight that I nearly lost control right there.
