The snow is falling heavier now, blanketing the world in white, and somewhere in the distance, church bells are ringing.It’s almost midnight, and I’m walking through a winter wonderland with the woman I love.
The woman who loves me back.
I glance over at her, at the ring glinting on her finger, at the smile playing at the corners of her mouth, and think that this might be the best Christmas of my life.
And it’s only just beginning.
Ican’t see a damn thing.
The blindfold is silky soft, but it’s tied tight enough that all I have left is sensation.The scratch of expensive sheets against my back.The whisper of heated air from the hotel’s climate control.The faint scent of the luxury candles the Asheville Grand always keeps in their rooms.
And Alexander’s mouth.Oh, god, his mouth.
My hands pull against the restraints tying my wrists to the headboard, and the silk doesn’t give.Not even a little.My breath comes in short, desperate gasps as his tongue?—
A sound tears from my throat I don’t recognize.High and needy and completely undignified.
“There you are,” Alexander murmurs against my inner thigh, his voice dark with satisfaction.“I was wondering when you’d stop being so stubborn.”
“I’m not—” The words dissolve into another gasp as he does something with his tongue that makes my back arch clean off the mattress.“—stubborn.”
His laugh is low and wicked.“No?”
“No.”
He pulls back, and I make a sound of protest that would embarrass me if I had any brain cells left to spare.Which I don’t.They’ve all melted into a puddle of please-don’t-stop.
“Then apologize,” he says, his breath ghosting over sensitized skin.
I laugh even though my whole body is strung tight as a bow to an Asheville luxury hotel headboard on Christmas Eve.“For what?”
“For saying I drive like someone’s grandmother.”
“That’s because you do.”I gasp as his fingers trail higher.“And I’m not apologizing for telling the truth.”
“No?”His fingers trail up my calf, achingly slow.Teasing.
“If you make us late for Christmas Eve lunch,” I manage, my voice breathy and wrecked, “you can explain to my parents why we missed it.”
The sharp crack of his palm against my hip makes me yelp—and then moan because apparently my body has decided that’s exactly what it wants.Heat blooms across my skin, delicious and intense, and something low in my belly clenches hard.
“You get very mouthy in bed,” Alexander murmurs, and I can hear the smirk in his voice.
“Not as mouthy as you,” I shoot back.His answering chuckle is dark and promising.Then his mouth is back between my thighs, and?—
My mind whites out.There’s nothing but sensation.His tongue, his fingers, the scrape of his stubble against my inner thigh.I pull against the restraints again, needing something to hold onto, something to anchor me, but there’s nothing.Just the silk holding me in place while he takes me apart piece by piece.
“Alexander.”His name comes out strangled.“Please.”
“Please, what?”He lifts his head, and I feel the loss of his mouth like a physical ache.
“Don’t stop.”
“Are you going to apologize?”
“Never.”
He laughs, the sound vibrating against my skin.“We’ll see about that.”
