Page 35 of The Mistletoe Mix-up

Wren sat silently for several moments, staring at him. “I wish . . .”

“What?”

“I wish, knowing what we do now, we could go back to that day and handle things differently.”

Sam cradled her face in his hands. “I know.”

He started to lean in, but her hands came up between them, pressing against his chest.

“Sam, I have to tell you something—”

“Wren,” he whispered, rubbing his thumb across her lower lip. “Can I kiss you first?”

Chapter Eleven

This wasn’t the plan, Wren thought as she nodded, sinking into Sam’s warm touch as he cradled her face. His mouth covered hers, spearing his tongue into her mouth, and she met his thrusts with eagerness, her hands curling in the front of his shirt.

She had every intention of telling him about the pregnancy scare, about her fears that if her father didn’t ruin his life, trapping him with a kid would. Every worry she’d had at almost seventeen erupted into one choice, and it had changed the course of their lives. If she’d told him, and he hadn’t left, would they have stayed together once they found out she wasn’t pregnant? Would he still have asked her to leave with him?

There were so many what-ifs that didn’t matter because they were here, now. Nineteen years later, they’d found their way back to each other. This wasn’t what she’d come home for, but as his hands slid down her neck, circling it as his mouth devoured hers, Wren couldn’t come up with a single reason why they should stop.

“Fuck, Birdy,” Sam murmured against her mouth, his thumbs tracing the column of her throat and making her shiver. “I missed you so God damn much.”

The raw need in his voice and the familiar nickname shook her to the core. He’d said it once as a goof, teasing her, but Wren discovered she loved it. A special name only the two of them knew about, intimate and sweet as teens, fueled the fire spreading from her core. He spread his fingers, dragging his hands along her shoulders. His touch found the bare skin of her arms, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

Wren forgot how Sam’s kiss could obliterate her knees, something no man had ever accomplished, and as she struggled to stay upright, her fingers worked the buttons of his black shirt. They trembled as she desperately pushed each button out of its hole, frustration tightening her core as she exposed his chest several inches at a time. Wren wanted to see him, all of him, and feel every part of his body connected with hers. Tonight was supposed to be about closure, but instead, the man had opened a whole-ass can of feelings she’d thought were long buried with her youth.

Someone else might think Sam was lying about the letter, but Wren believed him. There was no reason for him to tell her about it unless he thought she’d read it. Her heart had been broken when he’d walked away and left her behind. As much as she tried to push down the bitterness and pain, that wound had become infected and destroyed every relationship she had after. She never got over him not fighting for her, and it turned out, he had just been waiting in the wings, hoping for them to be together. They missed their chance at a life together, but at least they had tonight. Maybe this moment could heal old hurts, and they could finally move on.

Wren pulled the last two buttons hard, and they popped off the shirt. She mumbled under her breath, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, his hands traveling along her back to grip her butt in his big hands, drawing a moan from her as his fingers squeezed. “It’s just a shirt.”

Her hands spread over his abs, longing coiling inside, her pussy throbbing with anticipation as his fingers flexed mere inches from her center. Last time they’d been together, he’d been a lean eighteen-year-old with slightly defined muscles, and now he was a man, all hard angles and planes. In contrast, her body was softer now, fuller, with stretch marks from too many “heal up soon” casseroles and bed rest after being shot. Would he note the differences and be turned off by them?

Sam spun her around roughly, and she grabbed hold of the counter as his hands skimmed all over her back. His touch felt so good through the fabric of her dress, she let him linger for a few moments before whispering, “If you’re looking for the zipper, you just pull it over my head.”

“Thanks for the heads-up,” he said, kissing her neck as he reached down, grasping the hem of her dress. As he pulled it up over her head, his fingernails skimmed over her legs, hips, sides, breasts, and she shivered at the light graze, her panties soaked with desperation. She was glad she’d picked one of her sexier lingerie sets, since the fluorescent lights of the kitchen shined brightly, illuminating every flaw, and for a second, she almost balked at being so naked. The white lace panties were cut high in the back, exposing her butt cheeks, but by the way his hands caressed them, rubbing the globes of her ass with reverence, she figured it was the right choice.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, Birdy.” His fingers traced the backs of her thighs, so light Wren barely felt his touch until he flattened his palms against her skin. “I want to explore every inch of you.”

“There’s a bit more of me now,” Wren whispered, her insecurities bubbling to the surface. “I haven’t been working out the way I . . .”

His hands wrapped around her thighs and squeezed, cutting off her thoughts as he rubbed and massaged her muscles, his lips leaving kisses across her back. “This body is fucking perfect. Do you understand?”

Sam’s teeth nipped at her shoulder blade, and she nodded.

“Lean over the counter,” he ordered, his voice a deep grumble in his throat, like the purr of a motorcycle engine. Wren did as he asked, her heart hammering against her breastbone as she pressed her chest against the cold counter. Her nipples hardened into peaks against the cups of her bra but she barely had a moment to adjust before the weight of his body disappeared and his warm breath rushed between her legs. It barely registered that he’d dropped to his knees behind her before his mouth covered her aching pussy.

Wren gasped, her hands clenching into fists as he licked her through the barrier of her panties, teasing her with his tongue. His fingers brushed against her swollen labia as he moved the panties to the side and sucked the delicate folds sharply, rolling them between his lips. Wren’s eyes rolled back, closing them against the intensity when his teeth grazed her soft flesh, soothing the sting with his tongue. She whimpered as her pussy’s throbbing intensified when his fingers found her clit, pressing it like a detonator before rubbing it in a rough, circular motion that sent frissons of electricity sparking to her core. When his tongue thrust inside her rapidly, the pressure built, her feet elevating her onto tiptoes as she sought relief. Her clenched fists opened, her fingers digging into the countertop, searching for something to hold on to as the pleasure took her higher.

Her orgasm burst over her like a waterfall cascading over a cliff, soaring to the bottom where she landed, her body trembling as she clung to his kitchen counter.

“Still so fucking responsive,” he murmured, dragging his tongue along her seam, and she jerked, moaning as her sensitive flesh quaked with need. The orgasm had been wonderful, amazing in fact, but her body craved more. Knew that it could get better with him inside her, and when he sucked on her swollen clit, she pushed back against his mouth, rolling her hips.

He released her with a loud pop, her body pulsating as his hot breath rushed out across her exposed labia. “I could eat this pussy all fucking day, but I know you need more.” Before she could agree, he pushed two fingers inside her slowly, working them in and out in shallow strokes, and her muscles clamped down, leaving her panting. “You need my cock, don’t you, Birdy?”

Sam curled his fingers inside, stroking her G-spot, and she gasped, “Yes!”