“What is your cologne?” I pant.
He shrugs. “Something. It’s in a bottle.”
“Such a guy answer,” I mutter, pulling him in again. “Keep wearing it.”
I dive in to kiss him more, savoring the chill and the ocean scent and the promise of snow—a contrast to the way my neck is hot. My chest is fiery. And I’m aching between my thighs as Rowan slows the kiss, his hand coasting down my cheek to my chin. He holds me there as he sweeps his lips slowly, teasingly over mine while the music shifts to a new song.
His beard whisks gently across my face before he breaks the kiss to look up at the open-air roof. Mistletoe hangs everywhere.
Rowan meets my gaze again. “The things I want to do to you under mistletoe,” he muses.
I shudder, wanting all those things. “Better start soon. You’ve only got forty minutes.”
He slides a hand down my sweater, over the curve of my breasts, a man who understands direction. “What’s it going to be, snow angel? You want me to make you come quietly against the wall, in my lap, or on a bench? Either way, we need to finish what we started the other night. And by finish, I mean…you.”
My thighs clench. “All of the above.”
“Such a greedy woman,” he says with a growl, thenhauls me in for a hot kiss. He moans as he kisses me, like he can’t bear stopping. But when he does, he scoops me up in his arms, strides to a bench in the corner of the patio, then sits, arranging me so I’m straddling him. My back is to the alleyway, so even though we’re all alone, he’s making sure no one can see me but him. That attention excites me more. Feeling bold and daring, I bob a shoulder. “Let’s see. Where did we leave off…?”
He grips my hips and tugs me down, and I feel his length. I gasp. His hands slide under my coat, under my sweater, then under my cami. The chill of his fingers makes me flinch, but I wriggle closer. His big hands warm quickly, coasting up to cup my breasts.
“Fuck, snow angel,” he murmurs as he fondles them through my red lace bra, then drops his gaze to stare at my chest. “Is this…lace? Did you wear something sexy for me?”
I bite the corner of my lips. “Maybe I did.”
He pushes my sweater and cami up higher, staring wantonly at my red lace demi bra. “Beautiful,” he praises, then runs a thumb across the top of my right breast.
Pushing the lace down, he exposes my nipples. They’re hard—it’s cold outside, but I’m hot inside. I shiver, but I’m pretty sure it’s from the excitement.
“Mmm. So pretty and rosy,” he says.
I arch against his hands, seeking more contact. With a groan, he pinches one nipple, then the other, then his mouth finds my nipple.
He sucks and licks as a new tune plays softly from his coat. As I grab his head, lacing my fingers through his hair, the way he likes, it hits me all at once—I’m pushing the limits of propriety. I’m outside, after dark, in the cold. I’ve never been more turned on.
He kisses my tits until I feel like I could come fromthis. “What are we doing?” I whisper.
“What I’ve been fighting for more than a year,” he says, raising his face to meet my eyes.
More than a year.
I barely have time to process the weight of that admission as he kisses me again. I’m lost to Rowan Bishop’s hands and mouth andplans.Like the sexy playlist he made for me. Like the patio he found. Like the text he sent yesterday morning.
It’s not the vulnerability I imagined. But it’s still real. He’s opening up. He’s been making plans for me all along. It’s a heady and a lovely thought.
I tug on his hair, pulling him up, wanting to meet his eyes. “More. I want more,” I whisper, since if he’s being vulnerable like this, I can too.
His eyes darken with dirty deeds as he lowers his hands. “You’re so fucking pretty when you ask for it,” he says. His lips twitch. “But I need something too.”
“What? What do you need?” The question flies out.
He cups the back of my head. With his other hand, he fiddles with the button on my jeans. “Need you to come, snow angel. I need you to come so fucking quietly, so I’m the only one who can hear you. Can you do that?”
Consent is hot, and I love that he’s asking how far he can go with me in public even though we’re the only ones around.
I arch a brow. “Bet you can’t make me come in under five minutes.”
His smile is smug. “You’re on.”
