Sleigh Bells in the Snow (O'Neil Brothers 1)

“Mistakes are what make us human.” He spoke the words against her lips and then he was kissing her, his mouth hard and hungry, and she kissed him right back because he was all she wanted and needed. There was nothing in her head except this moment, and she slid her hands under his sweater, moaned as she felt the warmth of his skin and the ripple of male muscle under her palms.

“You feel good—” Frustrated by the barrier created by his clothing, she tugged, pulled, and he broke the kiss long enough to yank the sweater over his head along with the T-shirt he was wearing under it. They both staggered but he locked her against him again, and she slid her hands over his shoulders, feeling the hard swell and dip of muscle. “You’ve lifted a lot of logs in your time.”

“All part of the job.” With rough, impatient hands he parted her robe and inhaled. “If I’d known that was what you were wearing underneath there’s no way our conversation would have lasted as long as it did.”

She licked at his lips. “I’m not wearing anything.”

“That’s what I mean. Hell, Kayla—” With a groan, he backed her against the wall, trapping her between the smooth wood of the cabin and the hard heat of his body. And now, finally, she could see him properly. See the contours of those powerful shoulders, the dark curling hair that shadowed his chest, the swell of his biceps and the strength of his forearms as he pinned her there.

For a few indulgent seconds they just looked at each other.

She was breathing rapidly and so was he, his eyes so dark they no longer seemed blue.

“What happened to your underwear?” His voice was thickened and rough, loaded with the same tension that held her breathless.

“It got wet in the forest when that tree shook itself on me.”

The corner of his mouth flickered and he lifted his hand to her cheek. “You make me smile, Kayla Green.”

Her heart was pounding. “You make me smile, too.”

He lowered his head fractionally, just enough to drive her crazy with anticipation, and the feeling terrified her because she couldn’t ever remember feeling this way before.

Out of control.

He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “Have I told you you’re beautiful?”

“No.” Her fingers bit into the warmth of his shoulder. “Are you going to kiss me again or am I going to have to force you?”

His smile was slow and sure. “Just taking my time.”

“How much time?” She could hardly breathe. “I need to know whether to take control or not.”

“You’re in a hurry?” His voice was rough and deliciously male. “Is there someplace you need to be?”

“No—” Her breathing hitched as she felt his hand on the base of her spine. “I’m just a person who likes to get things done.”

“I never would have guessed that about you. You always seem so laid-back and calm.” His hand was inside her robe and she felt the warmth of his palm on her bare skin, felt his hand linger on the dip of her waist and then lower to the curve of her hip. And his touch drove her crazy because she wanted this so badly—wanted to feel his hands on her, his mouth on her—and he was making her wait until she thought the waiting might drive her out of her mind.

She ached as she’d never ached before, and when his fingers closed on her thigh, she slid her leg around him, locking them together. She could feel him, thick and hard, his erection contained by the fabric of his jeans.

“You’re wearing too much—” Her fingers searched for the snap of his jeans and she heard him suck in breath. Seconds later he was as naked as she was. Her hand closed around the pulsing thickness of his shaft and she heard the rhythm of his breathing change.

“Jesus Christ—”

The tension was incredible. All the more so because it had been slowly building since their first meeting.

She rose on her toes, her mouth a breath away from his. “You want to wait? Because if you do that’s fine by—”

Their mouths clashed, sensation shot through her and after that there was no holding back. There was no slow. No steady. No careful. One word came into her head.

Wild.

He took her mouth with raw hunger, and she was the same—demanding, desperate as she felt the possessive bite of his fingers in her hair.

Without lifting his mouth from hers, he pushed the robe from her shoulders, leaving her naked. Cool air swept across her skin, but she was pressed against the heat of him. Flesh against flesh. Female against male. Fire against flame. It licked at her, driving her higher until she felt nothing like herself, nothing like she’d ever felt before. He held her locked there, trapped against the powerful ridge of his erection while they kissed, taking his time with her until the heat was so intense she thought she’d explode. She arched against him, pressing into that hardness, and finally he lifted his mouth, but only to explore another part of her—her cheek, her jaw, the base of her throat. She felt the scrape of stubble against the sensitive flesh of her breast and then gasped as he sucked her nipple into the warmth of his mouth.

“Jackson—” A gasp became a moan as he toyed with her, building arousal with every skilled, leisurely flick of his tongue. Heat pooled in her pelvis. She squirmed against him, feeling male hardness press against the most sensitive part of her, and just when she thought she couldn’t stand it any longer, he scooped her up and the next minute she was lying on the soft rug in front of the log fire, pinned down by the weight of his powerful body.