Page 36 of The Mistletoe Mix-up

“Hmmm, that’s what I thought.”

Wren was still trying to catch her breath when Sam slipped out of her and took hold of her panties, pushing them down to her knees. She stepped out of them with trembling legs, and as his hand rubbed over her, squeezing her flesh as he worked his hands back up to the apex between her thighs, she sank onto the cool countertop with a sigh.

“I wanna see this wound on your ass.”

She laughed softly. “Left cheek. You can’t miss it.”

Wren sensed the moment he found it, his finger dragging along her scar lightly.

“You could’ve been killed.”

Wren closed her eyes, not just because of the intensity of his words but the truth in them. It was something she’d struggled with after going back to work, the fear always lingering in the back of her mind. Although she pushed back the anxiety, her heart raced with every burglary call, memories flooding her.

One suspect. That’s what the dispatcher had said, but she was wrong.

“I know, but I’m okay.” Wren tried to turn, but Sam placed a hand on the small of her back, keeping her in place.

“Be still,” he said, and she relaxed, letting him unclasp her bra and pull it apart. Sam kissed her shoulder, and as he slid the straps down her arms, she lifted enough to let her breasts pop free from the lace cups. He climbed to his feet and curled against her, as if shielding her from danger, and Wren hummed in pleasure at the warmth of him surrounding her.

God, I forgot how fucking good this feels.

Being held by Sam, spooned by him, was like being wrapped in her favorite loungewear in front of a roaring fire at Christmas. Happiness bubbled in her chest, and suddenly, she stiffened. This wasn’t about comfort or reconnecting, but getting closure. This was too much, too intimate.

Sam didn’t seem to notice her shifting mood and sucked sharply on her neck, chasing away the fear with a shock of pleasure. Wren gasped, instinctively closing her eyes as a quiver raced down her spine and settled in her lower back, tingling there.

“Do you remember the hickeys we’d give each other?” he murmured, his mouth closing over the space between her neck and shoulder blade, gently drawing her flesh between his lips, and she tilted her head to give him better access.

“Yes,” she whimpered.

“Never where anyone could see them, but you used to shake under my mouth as if you could come apart from just that.”

Wren remembered the marks peppered across her breasts, how she’d run her fingertips over them as she stared into the mirror, the sensation of his mouth on her skin like fire licking across her body.

“We’re grown-ups now. No hickeys.”

“No promises.” He kissed his way down her back, along her spine, until he hit the small of her back and sucked right there. Her knees buckled, but he cupped her backside, keeping her pinned.

“Hmmm, still the spot, huh?”

Wren felt him reach between them and she pictured him unbuttoning his jeans, listening to the sound of his zipper opening with a rrrffft, her stomach fluttering. She leaned on her forearms and turned to watch him over her shoulder as he kicked off his boots and jeans, his hard-on straining against his boxer briefs. When Sam pushed those down, releasing his turgid cock, Wren licked her lips as it bobbed up in down with every motion of his body.

“Mmm, all that for me,” she said, greedily watching him straighten up, noting the hunger in his eyes that matched hers.

In a blur of motion, he reached for her, tangling his fingers in her hair, giving it a gentle tug. “Every bit of it.”

His mouth slammed down on hers at a slant, releasing his grip on her hair to circle her throat in a loose hold. She could feel the tip of his cock rubbing between her legs, sliding along her seam, and instinctively rocked back into him. The head of his hard length slipped inside, but he held himself away, refusing to give her more even when she arched her back. Her teeth bit his bottom lip in frustration, and Sam broke the kiss, nipping her ear with a growl.

“Such an eager little bird.” His hand squeezed her throat gently, while his other hand gripped his cock. When he used the tip to circle her opening, she moaned.

“I’m clean,” he whispered, his breath fanning the shell of her ear, “but if I need a condom, tell me now.”

Wren opened her mouth to say yes, but his dick slipped between her folds against her clit, bucking against the sensitive nub, and her mind went blank.

“Birdy, answer me,” he growled, his length gliding over her in several swift thrusts. His mouth closed over the side of her neck and sucked on her skin, hard and fast, and her thighs clenched together around his cock like a vise, holding him so she could think.

“We’re good,” she breathed, ignoring the guilt clawing its way up her throat. This wasn’t anything but wanting the sensation of Sam’s bare cock inside her, and one time wouldn’t make a difference.

“Relax, baby.” Wren’s thighs fell apart, and Sam adjusted his angle, pushing into her with slow, steady thrusts that sank him deeper inside every time. Filling her, stretching her. Her channel burned, and she bit her lip against the ache.