Mistletoe & Hollywood (20 page)

“Wasn’t this your idea, Weston?” Danielle asked with a tight smile. “You should be the one getting your hands dirty.”

I grinned and pulled up a seat beside her at the countertop. “I’m here. I was just watching the storm,” I said. I reached over and stroked her back. “I’m sorry your mom and dad can’t make it out because of the weather.”

Dani smiled at me, turning her head to one side. “It’s okay. This year it’s just the three of us and that’s perfectly fine by me.”

She repositioned the baby in her lap so he was facing her. I loved watching the way her eyes lit up when she looked at our child. “Did you have fun, bub? Of course you did. Look at that smile,” she cooed, reaching out to tickle Logan’s cheek. He let out a cackle and placed his icing-caked hands on her cheeks, another belly laugh rolling out of him as we both laughed with him.

That laugh of his melted me every time. I reached out and tickled his side, getting yet another quacking giggle. My eyes settled on Danielle and I took a split second to enjoy her beauty, smeared cheeks and all. Maybe eleven months old was a little young for cookie decorating, but just like everything else, I couldn’t wait to jump right in. I couldn’t wait to form our own family traditions.

She stood up and I watched as flour fell from her lap. Dani rolled her eyes at my stifled laughter. She’d recently turned “Shut the fuck up, Weston” into a look to censor herself in front of the baby and she shot that look at me with a smirk. I raised my hands in defeat and stood beside her.

“Say goodnight, Daddy,” she said, holding Logan out to me. I laughed at the sight of the mess he was covered in, but kissed his cheeks and smoothed my hand over his soft hair.

“Night, little man. Love you.”

She hoisted him to her hip and I could tell the bit of exhaustion I’d seen earlier was turning into full-on fatigue.

“Do you want me to—”

“No, I got it,” she said. “I’m gonna give him a quick bath and put him down. It won’t take long.”

As she said it, Logan yawned and she nodded with a knowing smile before heading upstairs.

WHEN THE LAST
cookie was stored in a decorative tin and the last sprinkle was wiped clear off the countertop, I lit a fire and poured a glass of wine for Danielle. She came downstairs in her pajama pants and a t-shirt, her face freshly washed clean of red icing, and flopped on the sectional sofa that curved around the living room.

“Here you go, baby,” I said, handing her the glass of chilled Sauvignon Blanc as I made my way around the couch to sit beside her.

She moaned as she took the first sip and I breathed a laugh.

“That good, huh?”

Danielle shifted on the sofa and tucked herself under my arm, breathing deeply. God, I loved that. She set her glass down on the coffee table and draped her arm across my torso with another sleepy sigh.

“Come on, we can go to bed. You’re totally beat,” I said.

“No, give me a second,” she retorted with a little whine. “I’m working on my second wind.”

I craned my head and took her face in my hands. Her tired blue eyes fluttered open sweetly at my touch. “What for? You don’t have anything else you need to do.”

Her teeth captured her bottom lip and suddenly those blue eyes sparkled with a look that always made my cock jump. Danielle’s hand moved slowly to my waistband, slipping my leather belt free from its buckle and grinning at me. “That’s not exactly true. I have a Christmas present for you.”

A sighing breath came from my lungs as she yanked the belt off of me completely and unbuttoned my jeans. She stood in front of me and slowly pulled her shirt over her head. Beneath the plain, ratty old t-shirt was a sexy black lace bra that held her breasts perfectly. Her hair spilled down around her shoulders and she smiled, tossing the deceiving shirt aside. I swallowed hard as her hands slid down her sides, finally reaching the waistband of her fleece snowflake pants. Danielle pushed the pants over her hips, letting them fall to the floor before she kicked them aside.

“Fuck,” I whispered.

A pair of matching black lace panties covered her just barely, but what filled my chest with a blaze of fire was the garter belt and sheer black stockings painting her legs. She straddled my knees and took a seat on my lap. I let my hands glide up over the sheer fabric and cursed again. She was perfect.

“Truth or dare, Santa?”

A light chuckle rumbled in my chest and I tugged her close against me, my hard cock pressed perfectly against her. I kissed just below her collarbone, running my tongue down the line of cleavage between her breasts. “Truth,” I panted against her skin.

I heard her make a little whimpering protest and it made me smile. With my hands dancing across the small of her back, imagining those beauty marks I cherished under my fingertips, I leaned back to look up at her.

“Don’t you want me?” she asked.

“Always.”

A ghost of a smile flickered on her mouth. “You love me?”

My gaze narrowed on her. Was that even a question? “Forever,” I growled.

Her head cocked to one side and she dragged her nails down my chest, tickling me through the fabric of my shirt. “Then why did you say truth?”

Gripping her hips, I picked her up off my lap quickly and pinned her to the sofa. She yelped then breathed a laugh before I hovered over her, examining her body with my eyes and my hands for a moment.

“I said truth to get my turn over with so I could ask you.” I grinned. “Truth or dare, Mrs. Claus?”

Her smile of approval made me shiver. She didn’t wait for me to go on. She started pulling at my clothes, tugging my shirt over my head and pushing my pants down over my hips wildly. I captured her wrists in my hands and held them above her head, pushing them into the plush sofa cushions. Her chest heaved as her breathing picked up speed.

“Truth or dare?” I repeated, drawing the question out strongly.

Her voice rippled through the air softly, “Dare.”

The best thing about the crazy way we’d turned our original deal into this family that now pulsed within me like my own heartbeat was that even though everything was different, it was also the same. All these years later I was still daring her to love me and trust me and believe me. We still challenged one another. I’d always give her my truth. And the truth was I would never have enough of her.

Natasha Boyd, you probably don’t remember this but you were the very first author to offer advice and assistance when I was getting ready to make the switch from traditional to independent publishing. You were quick to be kind to me and I’ve never forgotten that. I was so happy to have gotten the chance to meet you in Savannah and to form a friendship with you. Then I found out that you read my work…and you praised my work…and then you asked me to work with you (and I might’ve screamed). As a fellow author, I admire you. I respect you. I adore your work. And I am honored to share this title with you. I’m so thankful you and I became friends and I’m even more thankful that Jack and Evan became friends. Thank you for taking me on this journey. Thank you for everything.

Thank you Britni Hill. You let me be crazy and I need that. Love you.

Thank you Lisa Krienheder. You help me with way too much (including giving me the title for my story!) and for that I am eternally grateful.

Thank you to my husband, Adam Roth, for not murdering me when I said, “Hey, remember how I said I wasn’t going to release anything else this year? Just kidding!” The way you support me is astounding. I am lucky to have you.

Thank you to everyone who embraced Evan Weston and Danielle Ward. I have loved hearing from
Last Resort
readers over the last few months and without that support I’m not sure I would’ve had the guts to go through with this. We will be going back to Desire Resort and Spa in 2015, have no fear.

HUGE thanks to all of the bloggers and reviewers and street team members who have helped me!

Thank you to Julie Burke for being the all-around bad ass that you are! Your hard work has never gone unnoticed and I cannot thank you enough for all that you’ve done. Also, I plan to steal you from Natasha someday so get ready.

Thank you to Angela McLaurin for your awesome formatting expertise!

Thank you to my editor, Erin Roth. You fit me in at the last minute, made this story better by yelling at me, and solidified in my mind even more just how lucky I am to have you as my editor.

Inspired by music, film, art and the wealth of stories she has heard through her career as a professional hair stylist, Kate Roth decided to get real about her love of writing in 2008. She signed up for a course after-hours at the local high school called
‘So You Want To Write A Book?’
. Indeed, she did! For years Kate had been dreaming up love stories in her head and she’d even managed to write a few of them down but it was that class that gave her the drive to finally do something more with her ideas. 

The ideas haven’t stopped flowing since. She enjoys writing in all sub-genres of romance including New Adult, Contemporary, Erotic and Paranormal. She might even have a few surprises up her sleeve for the future. She is a small business owner and lives in Indiana with her husband, Adam and their dog, Sampson.

You can find more about Kate and her work on her website
www.katerothwrites.com
and stay up to date with all her news by following her on Facebook page
https://www.facebook.com/authorkateroth
and Twitter
@KateRothWrites

Also by Kate Roth

The Low Notes

Reckless Radiance

Natural Harmony

Sway

Last Resort

Best Laid Plans