Mistletoe Kisses

He does have a girlfriend. That miserable prick.

I bring my gaze back to him, my eyes narrowing in fury. “You asshole.”

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“Noelle,” he says like he’s about to handle me.

I glance behind him at the brunette again and see she’s holding a wine glass. I wonder if they just made dinner together, too. I was certainly charmed; maybe that’s his go-to move.

Anger, disappointment, and a sense of betrayal coil around me like snakes, but I don’t let them trap me here. Shaking my head, disinterested in whatever he has to say, I turn and walk away.

“Noelle, wait,” he says, coming out after me and closing the door behind him.

“Fuck off,” I call without looking back as I storm toward my car. “Don’t you dare follow me. I don’t care what you have to say. Go back inside to your poor girlfriend, you miserable, faithless bastard.”

Even though I have every right to be pissed off, when he speaks, it sounds like he’s losing his patience with me. “Would you stop? I’m trying to talk to you.”

I’ve made it to my car, but I spin around to shoot him another nasty look. “And I just said I’m not interested.”

“Carla is not my girlfriend,” he states.

“I don’t care! I don’t care if she’s just a casual hook-up, I don’t care if it’s a different girl every night. You have the audacity to tell me I’m not allowed to talk to other guys and then you have women over to your house for random fucks while you, what, wait for me to give it up? Fuck you, Mr. McLaren. Fuck you.”

Rather than look a bit cowed, he cocks a dark eyebrow. “Yes, I did tell you not to talk to any of the worthless little boys in class, but you didn’t listen to me very well, did you?”

The memory of my sexy punishment scenario flashes to mind and makes me overwhelmingly sad. I was so excited about this budding… whatever this is—was—between us. I didn’t even realize how excited until the asshole ripped it away from me.

I swallow, breaking his gaze and looking away. “It doesn’t matter now. If this is your way of getting back at me for smiling at a boy I have no interest in, then this was never going to work anyway. Good night, Cal—Mr. McLaren,” I amend, before turning around and reaching for my door handle.

Stopping me with a firm hand on my shoulder, Mr. McLaren pulls me and turns me around. “Noelle,” he says more softly, more gently than I’ve ever heard him before. “I wasn’t doing anything to get back at you. Yes, I was irritated that you were clearly trying to make me jealous, but I’m not a child. I didn’t need to strike back. I know who has the power here, and I know where your interest lies.”

That doesn’t help. Nothing will help. He wanted to fuck someone who wasn’t me tonight, planned to, so even if he doesn’t now that I showed up and ruined his plans, it hardly matters.

At least, I’m pretty sure of that until he has the audacity to reach down and start pushing my skirt up. My eyes widen in stunned outrage and I reach down to shove his hand away.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I demand.

“Touching what’s mine,” he states.

My jaw drops open as he swats my hand away and reaches under my skirt, shoving his hand between my legs and palming my pussy. I’m horrified when he smirks to himself, feeling how wet I am.

“That’s not for you,” I object, starting to try to move away from him.

“Bullshit,” he says, casually pushing me back against the car and pinning my shoulder there to keep me in place.

My cheeks flame. “It was for you earlier, before I knew you were a giant bag of dicks.”

Indifferent to my anger, he slides two fingers beneath the delicate red lace and sends a jolt of shock and arousal straight through me as he touches my bare pussy.

My body wants me to overlook his terribleness and let him caress me, but my mind won’t allow it. “Get your hands off me, Mr. McLaren,” I say, trying to remind him of his place.

“No,” he says casually, sliding a finger inside me.

I lean back, plastering myself against my car door and squeezing my eyes shut. My teeth sink into my bottom lip as his blunt fingertip brushes my clit and sends an intense wave of pleasure through me. My bones seem to disintegrate inside my body and I melt back against the cold metal supporting my weight.

No longer needing to pin my shoulder against the car to keep me in place, Cal’s other hand moves to my hip and he begins to work my panties down.

I need to stop him. I want to stop him.