Page 27 of Mistletoe Mischief

Ryler.

Pike rolled onto his back, gripping his throbbing head. He’d kissed the assistant to the woman who was going to change all their fortunes—hell, he’d been about to do more than kiss her. If she told her boss, Alia would think he was a womanizing, philandering lout and probably take her podcast and business elsewhere.

Damn it, what had he been thinking?

That you were sad and lonely and a pretty girl was standing in front of you, asking you to kiss her.

And what a kiss.

How was he going to be in the same room with the woman and not think about the way she’d melted into him, wrapped herself around him, and followed his lead, a hot and willing participant, playfully teasing him?

And now his dick was hard. Fan-fucking-tastic.

That blaring ring erupted again, and Pike realized it was his phone. He blindly reached for it, squinting at the screen to see it was his mom calling. He slid his thumb over the green phone icon and cleared his throat.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Happy Thanksgiving, sweetie.”

Pike winced at the high-pitched volume of her greeting, holding the phone a few inches away from his ear. “You, too. How is Dad?”

“He’s fine. He’s in the kitchen helping your sister.”

“That’s nice.”

“Why do you sound all stuffed up? Are you sick?” she asked.

“Nope, just woke up.”

“Really? It’s almost ten-thirty.”

“So it is,” he deadpanned.

“Well, I can let you go. I only called because we miss you.”

“I miss you, too. See you when you get home.”

“Bye.”

Pike ended the call and let out a shaky breath. He needed a shower and something greasy to soak up the sourness in his stomach from too much whiskey. After Ryler had called him Skip in that snarktastic tone, she’d spun around and went inside before he could get his bearings. He’d thought about chasing after her and apologizing, but the part of him that could still feel the warmth of her on his fingers and the taste of her on his tongue thought that was a bad idea.

Pike swung his legs over the side of the bed, heading for the bathroom. When he’d finally gone back inside the bar, Pike ordered another drink and sat down with a couple of women by the door and proceeded to get rip-roaring drunk until Anthony arrived and cut him off.

The rest of it was a bit of a blur.

Pike tried calling Anthony, but when it went straight to voicemail, he decided to hop in the shower and clear his head. As the warm water sluiced over him, his mind drifted back to Ryler and those full, pouty lips.

Nope, damn it, it was one night. One fucking kiss, an incredible kiss, but that was all it was going to be.

Still, those lips were haunting him, and his cock was a turgid reminder that it had been weeks since he’d had his pipes cleaned.

Wrapping his hand around his girth, he stroked it up and down, twisting and pulling. He leaned his head back against the tile, imagining Ryler on her knees, those incredible lips wrapped around him, sucking him. Teasing him. Lapping at him. Her soft hands playing with his balls, squeezing him.

“Fuck yeah,” he moaned as his dick surged. Pike imagined her swallowing his come, licking him clean like he was a fucking lollipop, and he sagged in relief. It had been a long time since he’d fantasized about any woman in the shower.

Pike finished showering and got dressed. Dinner at the Winters’ farm was at two in the afternoon, and he wanted to get rid of this hangover before heading out there.

He was making eggs and bacon when his phone rang again and Anthony’s name flashed across the screen. Pike answered on the second ring. “Finally. Where have you been?”