Kissing Under the Mistletoe (26 page)

She shrugged, sending her top slipping down one shoulder and exposing a lacy red strip. And sending him from stressed to rock hard in two seconds. “I suspect your dad would want you to make your own rather than try to get comfortable in his.”

Gabe shifted and finally gave up. No matter what chair he was sitting in, comfort was damn near impossible with her standing only a few feet away and looking like sex in heels. “How come you’re not at work?”

“They double-booked my shift, said I could have the day off.”

“And you came here?”

She nodded. “Your grandma told me that if you weren’t in your office you’d be fixing your family’s problems up here. She asked me to bring you this. Said it was time-sensitive.”
She held up an envelope and squinted as if trying to see through it. “But I’m pretty sure it’s empty.”

“Empty, huh? Then why did you come?”

With a smile that was 100 percent trouble, she walked straight toward him. He had to pull his legs back in to make room for her as she skirted right between his widespread knees. “What if I told you Holly’s going to Pricilla’s after school, and for one day I want to feel like something other than a mommy?”

“I’d say we’re going to need a hell of a lot longer than a day to get through every fantasy I’ve cooked up over the past few weeks.” Gabe set the envelope on the side table—definitely empty—and moved to the end of the chair, which brought her breasts right where he wanted them, at eye level. She was so close he could smell the rain on her skin, see the droplets that clung to her lashes, and see the hunger in her eyes.

He skimmed his hands over her boots, the backs of her knees, the backs of her thighs, not stopping until he got to her very bare, very sweet ass. He groaned. “And not one of them included you sans the silk, Vixen.”

“I figured you already had one pair of mine, I didn’t want to lose another,” she teased, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders for support.

“You have to earn those back.” Nudging the V of her top lower, he placed an open-mouthed kiss in the valley between her cleavage. Catching a drop of rain with his tongue.

“Well, you get one day. Then I go back to being a mom, and you go back to being a DeLuca. So make it count.”

“Did I ever mention that I am an excellent negotiator?”

“One day, Gabe.”

She looked stubborn and set on her ridiculous plan. It didn’t matter, he had all day to convince her otherwise. Might as well start now.

“I also like a challenge,” he said, raising his head to look up at her. But he didn’t get the chance, because Regan got things started on her own.

“Then your challenge is to make this”—she slid her hands up his chest and into his hair, and he felt what
this
was all the way down to his dick—“go away in one day.”

Then she was on him. Kissing him.

Vixen was kissing him.

Her skin was slick with rain, her mouth hot with need, her hands were everywhere and he loved it.

Gabe knew the attraction was mutual, but he had always been the one to instigate. Not today. Today, Vixen was open and aggressive and taking the lead. Hell, if this is what she was like when she was running things, he’d follow her just about anywhere.

His hands tightened on her ass, hauling her up against him and damn near exploding when she moaned against his mouth and bit his lower lip. There was nothing sexier than a woman who knew what she wanted and went after it, especially if that something happened to be him.

Her scent was nearly as intoxicating as her taste, because she tasted like sex and sugar cookies, a combination that was insanely hot. So when her tongue slid against his, he snapped. He could barely string together two thoughts when she was dressed. Now that he knew what she had on under her skirt—abso-fucking-lutely nothing—he was a goner.

He wanted her right now, right here. His hands slid down the globes of her ass and his fingers found their way
back under her skirt and between her legs, gently gliding over her center.

She jerked at his touch and pulled back enough to whisper, “Not here,” against his mouth, but her legs widened, giving him better access.

“Okay.” With one hand he pushed up her top, baring her breasts, and sucked her nipple right through the red lace. It budded against his tongue.

“How about here?” His tongue traced the edging of her bra, over her breast, down into the valley between and over to the other side, gently nipping at the peak with his teeth. “Or here?”

“No, I meant—” But her hands were all over him, clawing at his chest, fisting in his hair, anything she could grab on to. Hot damn, the woman was sexy.

“Oh,” he mumbled against her skin as his other hand cupped her heat and gently squeezed. “Here.” This time it wasn’t a question but a statement. Instead of only her going mindless, all the blood left his brain and rushed south. “Christ, Regan. You’re soaked.”

“There. Right there.” Just the need in her voice was enough to make him embarrass himself. Then she moved against his hand, a sexy little sound coming up from the back of her throat. She did it again, pressing harder. The next was more frantic, almost desperate. “Gabe, I think I might—”

She had to be kidding. He had barely touched her. Hadn’t even slid inside yet and she was breathing like she was about to—

“Oh, God,” she panted, her head dropping back as she rolled her hips forward, grinding against his palm, bringing her skirt up to where he could almost see what he was cupping.
He didn’t know what was more erotic, the knowledge that she was about to get off on his hand, or how he could see his hand disappear underneath her skirt but not see
her
.

“I need more.”

Damn right.

Gabe slid his other hand down the back of her thigh, hooking it around her knee, and gently brought her foot up and set it on his chair, the heel of her boot straddling the armrest. There went her skirt, up and over her ass, and he froze.

“Gabe, now. I’m almost there.” He could see it in the way her pupils were fully dilated and hear it in the need thickening her words. So was he and he was still fully clothed. Vixen, on the other hand...

“God, you are so damn beautiful,” he breathed, taking in the sight of her. Her hair was wet from the rain and tumbling down her back, her shirt was shoved up to her armpit, her skirt was bunched around her waist. And there, right on the inside of her hipbone, was that sexy tattoo. Only it wasn’t a bundle of holly, it was fucking mistletoe.

R
egan watched as Gabe’s mouth kissed its way down her hip, getting closer to the impact zone. With agonizing slowness, and a gentleness that stole the air from her lungs, he sucked and licked and kissed until her whole body tensed in anticipation, nerve endings stretching out to meet him.

Regan didn’t move, didn’t breathe, didn’t even beg him to hurry up. She couldn’t. Just like she couldn’t look away when he smiled up at her right before he ran his tongue in one long, thorough swipe straight up her center.

“Oh, God!” Heat shot though her, warming her entire body and making her stomach clinch. She’d known that he would be amazing—just the way he kissed was enough to tell her that. But amazing didn’t even begin to explain what he did to her body as he explored, sucking and teasing, until her legs were shaking so bad she thought they were going to buckle.

Gripping his shoulders for support, she moved restlessly against his mouth, wanting to get there. But Gabe seemed in
no hurry. His hands tightened, holding her still as he worked his magic. And that mouth of his had enough magic to be considered a Christmas miracle all on its own.

Then his fingers joined the festivities, and Regan thought she would die from the pleasure. Tension built, making her back arch and hips push forward, striving toward an invisible finish line that she could feel was right there. Just out of reach.

Gabe finally picked up the pace, sliding a second finger inside her and bringing her so close all she had to do was press down and—

Her breath stopped, right there in her throat, making her vision blur and her mind turn to mush. Making her forget that she had a slew of costumes to stitch, that Holly wanted tacos for dinner, that she was out of milk, that she was naked on the balcony of a winery with a man buried between her legs where anyone could walk by and see.

None of that mattered, because in the moment of forgetting, she remembered that she was a woman. And nothing had felt this right in a long time.

And then her mind emptied as Gabe gave a final swirl and gently bit at her bundle of nerves. She heard herself scream and she felt as if she was falling, fast and hard, without a care in the world.

Thunder cracked overhead and the rain came down, pounding the tile floor. When she finally opened her eyes and came back to herself, she was straddling Gabe’s lap, the heels of her boots digging into her bare ass, her face smashed into the curve of his neck.

“That was about the sexiest damn thing I have ever seen,” he whispered gruffly, his hand under her hair kneading the
back of her neck with such tenderness that it made her throat close. “Are you okay?”

No. She wasn’t. He was holding her as though, to him, she were precious and special. Which made her feel precious and special. Made her feel as though in that moment maybe she could be the kind of woman a man like Gabe would want to spend the rest of his life with. Would want to call his family.

He isn’t looking for permanent.

She knew that. She also understood that if he was, she wouldn’t be the kind of woman to inspire that kind of commitment. So she stared out at the sky and watched the rain cast a glassy shine over the vineyard below, listened as it danced across the roof overhead.

“Hey.” He dipped down and looked into her eyes. “Are you thinking again?”

“Not anymore.” She kissed his neck, his chin, working her way to his mouth, where she kissed him long and slow. She could feel his erection pressing against her and she pulled back—on so many levels. “But I think you need to catch up.”

She slid her hands under his shirt, loving how his muscles bunched and tightened under her touch. Needing to see him, she pulled his shirt off and threw it on the chaise longue next to them.

His eyes turned dark and hot when she lifted her arms over her head, asking him without words to help. Which he was more than happy to do. He helped her right out of her shirt, skirt, and bra, stopping when he came to the boots, saying he wanted those left on. Then he went to work on himself, quickly dispensing of his clothes, until he was gorgeously naked and—holy moly—impressive package indeed.

He must have seen the mix of fascination and, if she were being honest, a little fear in her features, because he flashed her a cocky smile. She rolled her eyes and took his hand.

Not only had it been a while for her. A six-year while. But she was also vanilla when it came to sex. So getting wild on a chair in the middle of a vineyard was too much. They could start on the chaise longue and maybe work their way up to the armchair cha-cha. Plus the cold winter air bit at her skin, causing her to shiver. Why be cold
and
bare-ass naked in public when there was a snug-looking blanket draped over the back of the chaise?

She led him toward the chaise, but Gabe obviously wasn’t thinking vanilla, because two steps from the sofa she found herself pinned against a stack of oak barrels by a mass of muscles with magical hands.

“The chaise,” she said, his mouth already on her neck, his hands going for Christmas miracle number two. Not that she didn’t want a second
feliz navidad
. She did. A lot. More now than she had two seconds ago, before his head dipped to kiss her breast, before his thumbs circled her navel, and even more than before his erection slid against her stomach.

“Chaise,” she repeated.

Gabe looked up, his eyes firm. “No. You said I have one day. Which means I need to get you to stop thinking about groceries and PTA shit if I want a shot at a second day. And a third.”

“One day, Gabe. That’s it. I don’t think that—”

He kissed her silent. When he pulled back she studied his face, trying to figure out what he was feeling. If he was asking for more sex, or just more. More her, more him, more
them. At the thought, her heart fluttered a little. Okay, a lot. She was already treading dangerously close to falling and didn’t know if she could handle more.

“There you go with the thinking again.”

“I’m just trying to read your face, figure out—”

Before she could blink, Regan found herself facing the wine barrel with Gabe’s hard-on pressing into her lower back. His hands came around her waist and when he spoke his breath tickled her ear, making her shiver again—but for a whole different reason. “Don’t read, don’t think, don’t figure, Regan. Just feel.”

His hands slid up to cup her breasts and feel she did.

His skin felt hot, telling her just how cold it must be, but she didn’t move away; if anything, she leaned into his touch. Giving herself over to the experience—and to Gabe—she dropped her head back against his shoulder and blocked out everything but his touch.

His mouth worked hot open-mouthed kisses along her neck and spine while his hands worked her into a frenzy. He bent a little at the knees, and when he stood back up his erection slid between her legs from behind. He eased across her, pulled back, and eased across her swollen flesh again, releasing a low “Ohhhh” from her lips. He kept up the pace until she was helplessly panting and her body felt like it was too small to hold in all of the pressure.