“No one?”
“No one ever compared to you,” I said, bold.
His face changed, falling but then filling with relief. “Really?”
“Why do you think I never came home at Christmas? It was too painful a reminder of what I would never have.”
Archer swept me into his arms and pressed his lips against mine. I gasped at the sudden contact, and he used my surprise to settle more firmly against me.
The sensation of being exactly where I belonged filled me, and I relaxed into him with a quiet moan. I succumbed to the feelings I’d been fighting for ten years, handing over the reins and letting them take control.
Archer groaned and cupped my jaw, tilting my face just the way he wanted it and licking over the seam of my lips with his very enticing tongue. I parted, and he swept in, teasing me lightly before curling around me completely. My fingers fisted in the front of his jacket and clung as we kissed the way I always wanted to… the reality of it far surpassing any dream I might have had.
The stubble on his chin and upper lip was rough but not abrasive and added a layer of sensation to the kiss I’d never known before. His lips were confident just like the rest of him, as if he didn’t know how to do anything halfway, and his tongue, it tasted slightly of coffee and something sweeter, like the icing we’d been working with before we came here.
Up on tiptoes, I wound my arms around his neck and pushed until our chests were plastered together. He hummedwith satisfaction, the sound vibrating all the way into my chest. Before pulling back completely, he pressed a softer kiss against my lip and then dragged his square, stubbly chin against mine, making my toes curl inside my shoes.
He let out a breathy laugh and pressed his forehead against mine. “I have wanted to do that for so fucking long.”
It took a moment for me to catch my breath, and when I did, all my kiss-addled brain could manage was, “I thought you were straight.”
Archer’s smile was quick and beautiful. “Turns out I’m gay for you.”
I ducked my head into his shoulder and laughed.
Woof! Woof!
We pulled back enough to look down at Marlowe dancing at our feet, something clutched in his mouth.
“Ireallyhope that’s not a dead rodent,” I mused.
“You’re a vet,” he teased.
“Yes, and I like to keep animalsalive.”
Archer laughed and leaned down. “Drop it,” he instructed, holding out his hand to Marlowe.
“Eww, don’t touch it! What if it’s something dead?” I panicked, pulling away.
Splat!
I gagged at the wet sound that whatever it was made slapping into Archer’s palm.
“Well, this seems appropriate,” he mused, lifting his hand.
I squeezed my eyes shut. I wasn’t looking.
“It’s not a dead rodent,” he informed.
I didn’t know why he thought this was so amusing. I did not want to have to perform CPR on some poor wild animal in the snow and dark under this old oak…
My eyes popped open.The oak.
Chuckling, Archer held out his hand.
I leaned in to get a closer look, a fluttering filling my middle as I took in the green leaves and white berries. “Mistletoe?”
Archer nodded. “Appears so.”
