Ghosts of Christmas (Steamy Bwwm Holiday Romance)

Still, I was so hungry. I wanted to seduce him. His soft lips on mine—so delicious and warm. When the kiss ended, silence proceeded.

I hated the quiet between us, not used to it with him. “Say something.”

“I’m done talking about it.” Saint lowered and kissed me again, soft, warm, and deep. His tongue slipped in and out as if enchanted with a charm for seduction. It drove me crazy, tasting him.

He broke the kiss and returned to gazing at me. “I always forget how good you are at kissing. Of course, I know how good your pussy is and how silky that pussy tastes. But those lips. That tongue. The soft moans. . .I will never get you out of my head or heart.”

I rose to kiss him and make sure he couldn’t forget me. It was unfair. Part of me knew I couldn’t be the perfect woman for him. The other part of me was too scared to watch him with another.

I spoke to him with my mouth, giving him a kiss that said what my heart wouldn’t dare. It was a kiss that declared we were the very definition of love. A kiss that told him thank you for being patient with me all these years. A kiss that admitted that even when he moved on, I would always love him from afar and never be okay with it.

But then, Saint took control of the kiss. And with it came no restraint. My body weakened. I was his. I felt like I was falling, plummeting into something that I could never survive. And while I tried to hold back and stop the kiss, my body wouldn’t let me.

Right there, he claimed me.

With his free hand, he ran his fingers through my hair. A groan left him. His grip tightened on my wrists. He moved his free hand to my breasts, squeezing the fullness of them. And then he tenderly pinched my nipples and slipped his hand along my body, appraising and caressing. Massaging and shoving me into a fiery rush of emotions.

Saint!

I tried to yank my hands free. I yearned to trail my fingers down his back and relish in the hard lines of muscle on his chest.

I moaned under him. My pussy got wetter and wetter with each flicker of his tongue against mine.

This went on forever. It seemed our kissing would not end. And that the teasing would be for an eternity. A constant state of erotic limbo, never reaching heaven and definitely dipping in and out of hell. I got lost in his mouth. I descended into the lustful buzzing energy vibrating through me. Saint’s big, hard body pressed between my legs and I lost more of me, remembering how good his cock felt.

I moaned so loud the sound shuddered through me.

He broke the kiss with an abrupt groan.

No.

Erotic thrill and hot desire shot through my body. Panting, I whispered, “Let my wrists go.”

He seared me with his gaze. “What would you do if I did?”

“Take off your jeans.”

He groaned.

“Please, Saint.”

Instead of obeying my request, he captured my mouth. Lust drowned me. I stirred under him, losing control. He deepened the kiss. My whole body awakened. It was like hundreds of soft fingers were caressing every inch of me.

I moaned.

He tightened his grip on my wrists as if scared I was almost free. When he broke our kiss and rubbed his cheek against mine. Then he met my hungry eyes with his own heated one.

Shaking his head, he sneered at me. “Goddamn it!”

“Why are you cursing at me?” I whispered. “You’re the one dragging this out. Take your clothes off.”

He studied me.

I looked up into his eyes needing to know what was going through his mind.

“You know why I’m dragging this out, Ivy.”

“Oh my God, Saint. Can we discuss this after you fuck me?”

“I’m not falling for that trick again.”

I slipped my body against his.

He rose out of my reach. “Nice try.”

“You’re being a pussy tease.”

“Hmmm. I like that.”

My heart thundered in my chest. “You’re making me so horny.”

“Why did you cry?”

“What?”

“Why did you cry?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

“You do.”

“Is this a therapy session, Saint, or are we making out?”

“It’s actually a little bit of both. Why did you cry?”

My voice went weak. “You know why.”

“You’re afraid.”

I whispered, “Yes.”

“You’ve never taken a chance with anyone.”

“What’s the point, Saint? We’re in love in the beginning, but then comes pain and—

“We’re not your parents.”

“But my chopped-up heart came from them. They passed down my idea of love. And all of that is messed up. Is that what you want?”

“Yes.”

Trembling, I frowned. “If you’re not going to fuck me, then you can leave.”

“And you’re going to be the one to kick me out?” Laughing, he let go of my wrists, rolled over, and lay on his back next to me. “You made my cock hard as fuck.”