The Trouble with Mistletoe Read online

  “I come up here when I want to be alone,” she said, emphasis on alone. But then she took in the sheen of perspiration on his face, the way his chest was rising and falling like he’d just run a marathon. “Are you afraid of heights?”

  “No,” he said, still not moving a single inch.

  “No?” Her gaze was glued to his lips, the ones she wanted hers on again now that she was thinking about it.

  “No, I’m not afraid of heights.” He paused. “I’m terrified of them.”

  This ripped a laugh right out of her. Her own troubles momentarily forgotten, she leaned over his big, long, tough body, the one she dreamed about at night. Every night. “And you still came all the way up here to save me?”

  “At the moment, I’m the one that needs saving. Pretty sure I’m going to die of lack of oxygen.”

  Still leaning over him, she lowered herself until she nearly-but-not-quite touched him from head to toe. “Don’t worry, I know CPR.”

  He kept his eyes closed but his mouth curved. “You’re teasing me. And I’d make you pay for that but I can’t because seriously, dying here.”

  Keane both felt and heard her laugh at him as she kissed one corner of his mouth.

  “Take it from me,” she whispered. “When facing your worst fears, all you need is something else to concentrate on.” Then she kissed the other side of his mouth.

  He liked where this was going. “Like a distraction,” he said.

  “Exactly.”

  He opened his eyes. “I like the sound of that,” he said, knowing the logic was more than a little faulty but unable to concentrate with all sorts of dirty, wicked scenarios of how they might “distract” each other playing through his mind. “Maybe I’ve already died and gone to heaven.”

  She lifted her head with a smile. “You think this is heaven?”

  “You’re touching and kissing me,” he said. “So yeah. I think this is heaven.”

  He felt the brush of her hair on his face and then her teeth sank into his earlobe, making him groan. The dilemma—let her continue, or stop her before they took this where she hadn’t intended to go . . . ? Before he could decide, her hot, sexy mouth made its way back to his and her hands slipped under his shirt, landing on his abs, her fingers spreading wide.

  “You’re hard,” she whispered against his lips. “Everywhere.”

  True story.

  Her fingers danced up, up, up, teasing his nipples for a beat before heading southward, and he stopped breathing.

  She shifted and then jumpstarted his heart by straddling him.

  “Willa,” he said but she was kissing her way down his throat and he was having trouble drawing air into his lungs. Fisting his hands in her hair, he tugged her face up so he could look into her eyes. “Willa—”

  “That’s my name,” she agreed and bit his lower lip, tugging a little bit so that he mindlessly rocked his hips up into hers.

  Jesus. He sat up and caught ahold of her hips, tightening his grip to keep her still. “What are we doing?”

  “Oh, sorry, I thought you knew.” She took his hands in hers and brought them up to her breasts. “Any further questions?”

  She filled his palms perfectly, her nipples pressing through layers of clothing for his attention. Yeah. He was most definitely in heaven.

  “I’m ready now,” she said softly.

  She had his full attention and he searched her gaze. For the first time he could see her expression clearly and it was filled with heat and need and banked anger.

  She was looking to defuse that anger, on him. And he was okay with that. More than. She needed him and God knew he needed her. “Come here,” he said, nudging her even closer, his hands taking over, cupping her breasts, his thumbs rasping over her tight nipples as she let her head fall back, a gasp escaping her.

  “More,” she demanded.

  “We’re outside, Willa, on the roof. Anyone could come up—”

  “No,” she said against his mouth, “that fire escape’s nearly a hundred years old. No one’ll use that rackety old thing but me and the gang, and they’re all in the pub.”

  His life flashed before his eyes again. “You mean I could’ve died on that thing? Is that what you’re telling me?”

  “You’re in heaven, remember?” Her hands were on the buttons of his Levi’s, popping them open one at a time.

  And he was rapidly losing the ability to think rationally. “What if someone uses the inside stairs access?” he asked.

  She shoved his jeans and knit boxers out of her way and wrapped her fingers around him so that his eyes crossed with lust.

  “Those stairs are noisy as hell,” she murmured. “We’ll hear anyone coming a mile away.” She tipped her head down to watch what she was doing to him.

  He looked too and at the sight of her hands on him, he groaned, not recognizing his own guttural voice when he spoke. “Willa, be sure—”

  “Oh, I’m sure.” Her own voice was soft and husky, sounding more than a little breathless now too. “But if you’re worried, you could work faster.”

  He let out a low laugh—which was a first, laughing with his personal favorite body part in a woman’s hands. “Fast isn’t my style.”

  “It probably should be tonight—” She broke off on a breathy gasp when he unzipped her bright red sweater and nudged it off her shoulders, letting it catch on her elbows, pinning her arms to her sides. While she became preoccupied with freeing herself, he happily realized she wore only a bra beneath, a sexy, lacy, mouthwateringly sheer number. He tugged the cups down, and not wanting her to get cold, cupped one bared breast while he sucked the other into his mouth.

  A shuddery sigh escaped her and she cupped his head, holding him to her like she was afraid he might try to escape.

  Not a chance. “How much did you have to drink tonight?” he asked.

  She thought about that for a minute. “Enough to know I want this, but not too much that I’ll have to kill you in the morning.”

  He stared back but who was he kidding, that totally worked for him. Sliding his hands up her skirt, he palmed her ass. “You’re wearing too many clothes.”

  She laughed breathlessly as fingers wriggled their way beneath her tights and panties, where he found her hot and wet, very wet. He spent a glorious moment teasing panting little whimpers out of her while her hips oscillated against his touch and her nails dug into his biceps. “You like this.”

  She moaned something inaudible but he got the gist.

  More.

  With one arm banded low on her back, his mouth busy at her breasts, his fingers stroked her in the rhythm she wanted. Using her body as his compass, he rose up and swallowed her cries as she came for him, her body shuddering in his arms.

  Brushing his lips over her sweaty temple, he held on to her, stroking her back until she finally lifted her head. “Not exactly how I saw my evening going,” she said, still a little breathless as she slumped against him.

  “Not sure who could’ve foreseen an orgasm on the roof.”

  “I meant you.” She put a finger to his chest. “I didn’t see you coming.”

  “That’s because I haven’t.”

  She laughed, and loving the sound, he pulled her in by the nape of her neck and kissed her. “Ditto,” he said against her mouth. He hadn’t seen her coming either, not until she’d hit him over the head, knocking him out with her vibrant, sexy, adorable self.

  She flashed a smile at him, warm and also filled with trouble—which he really hoped boded well for him.

  She went to work, wrestling off one of her boots. By the time she wriggled a leg out of her tights, he’d lent his hands to the cause. Then she wrapped her fingers around him and was guiding him home when he barely managed to catch her.

  “Condom,” he managed.

  She stilled, eyes wide on his. “Oh my God, I can’t believe I almost forgot,” she whispered and fisted her hands in his shirt, going nose to nose with him. “Tell me you were a Boy Scout, that you’