Page 77 of The Christmas Competition

She shrugged, getting to her feet. “That was different. You were trying to deny me my favorite pastime.” She raked her gaze down my body, folding her arms and bringing her dark eyes back to mine. Heat unfurled along my spine.

“Continue,” she said, taking her bottom lip between her teeth as she studied me.

I took a breath, aware that blood was already rushing low into my belly just from the look in her eyes and the bite of her lip. I tried valiantly to control my lustful thoughts and focus on what I wanted to say. “I don’t think you should do what Aisha asked and be the one to tell your parents her news.”

Her eyebrows shot up as if I’d just advised her to give Izzy to the cat shelter.

I raised a palm. “Hear me out.”

She took a step toward me, but then stopped, giving me the nod.

“I think it’s feeding into the maladaptive cycle of you taking responsibility for things that aren’t your burden to carry. And then you get the flack for everyone’s negative feelings surrounding those things. Such as when your sister is ill or does something that makes your parents worry. You’re the messenger who gets shot every time.”

Her brow furrowed briefly as understanding flickered in her gaze, and she took another step toward me. “So what do you advise I do?”

“I think you should call your sister and explain how all of this affects you. How you get it in the neck from your parents, particularly your mum, because they feel comfortable berating you where they wouldn’t with her because they have a softly-​softly approach with her. I want you to let them speak directly to one another, with kindness of course. To draw a boundary for yourself and to stick by it and not be ashamed of it. I want you to put yourself first and not over-​compromise to a damaging degree.” I paused, because she had taken a few more steps forward during that little speech and was now right in front of me, heat burning in her gaze. And not the angry kind. “I want to protect your emotional well-​being, and I want you to feel good about yourself,” I concluded.

She uncrossed her arms and lifted her hands to place them on my chest, fists balling into the material of my coveralls and making my jaw tighten with barely contained need. “Has anyone ever told you how sexy you are when you’re dressed in workwear, leaning against a wall, being all protective over my emotional well-​being?”

I arched an eyebrow. “No. But that is very specific.”

She let out a laugh, which was curbed by an arc of electricity when I uncrossed my arms and hauled her to me.

An involuntary gasp left her lips before she narrowed her eyes, gripped the front of my clothing even tighter, and pulled me down into the hottest kiss we’d had yet. And that was saying something.

I slid my hands down her sides and around to her arse, lifting her up where she went to wrap her legs around my waist. Her body grazed where I was already hard under my overalls, ripping a groan from my throat.

Her hands went to the back of my head, fingertips spearing into my hair as she pressed harder and deeper into the kiss, our mouths burning against each other’s, tongues sliding together.

She let out a whimper and heat exploded through my veins.

Nisa broke off for a second and my mouth instinctively went to catch her again. She peppered a kiss onto my lips, then murmured, “Do you want to get this paint washed off?”

I frowned. There were other things higher on my list of priorities, and they all involved me teasing more of those moans from her mouth. She sent me a knowing look and it clicked. “You want to shower together, love?” I asked, stealing another kiss.

“Yes,” she said, tightening her legs around me.

I shot her a smile laced with desire as I walked the two of us out of the living room and up the stairs, reliving the first time we’d been together and I’d carried her up there in this exact same way.

But this time when I reached her bedroom, instead of putting her down onto the bed, I walked us into her en suite and planted her lightly onto the floor. My hands immediately went to stripping off her clothes, and hers mine.

Whenever I wasn’t with her, I craved her proximity. Whenever I was with her, I wanted to strip her and make her come, to bury myself deep inside her. I kept expecting the need to be sated, or at least diminished, but it was only becoming stronger with time.

We fumbled at each other, paint-​stained clothing falling to the floor until both of us were naked except for a few streaks of white paint that had either already been on us before we began making out or were a product of it once our dirty hands started roaming over each other’s bare skin.

I leaned an arm over her head and into the shower, putting on the water and letting it warm up for her while I continued to kiss her thoroughly, hands roving and kneading her soft skin, fingertips brushing over sensitive spots and making her emit little gasps of anticipation. I could do this all day—​play her body like an instrument, sounds singing from her lungs like a symphony for my ears only. My own need was aching, my erection straining painfully, but I vowed to ignore it. My needs would have to wait until I had taken care of Nisa’s.

Once steam began to rise out of the shower I stepped her backward into it, closing the door behind us as rivulets of hot water flowed over our heads and down our bodies, making her skin slick against mine.

I kissed the line of her neck, her collarbone, her breasts, sinking to my knees to trail my mouth down her belly. The soft, warm taste of her skin mixed with the heat of the water in my mouth like a drugging cocktail that I was already addicted to.

Skimming lower, I lifted one smooth, tawny-​skinned leg over my shoulder and buried my face between her legs.

She full-on gasped as she leaned against the shower wall and pressed her hand onto the back of my head, her fingertips kneading my scalp with a delicious pressure. I paid attention to licking and sucking exactly how I had learned she liked it best, what pressure to use, how fast, what pattern to follow, until she was like putty in my hands and grinding against me, her breathing coming in short pants.

“Kerr,” she moaned, and I all but growled in response.

I picked up the pace until I felt her begin to break, then slid my fingers in to join my movements, and she came apart, squeezing my fingers, her hand in my hair gripping for dear life.