Page 28 of Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree
Three words. They’re simple, but I don’t have the brainpower to make them prettier for her, to give her the sentiments she deserves. But her response brings me to my knees.
“You have me.”
I don’t waste any time. We’re stumbling down the hall toward my hotel room less than ten minutes later. Pressing her back against the door once we’re inside, I lift her until she wraps her legs around my waist and the heels of her shoes prick into my lower back, pulling me tighter against her.
Head dipped forward, I nip at her lower lip before soothing the sting with my tongue.
“Are you sure?”
Thoughts of the silent car ride here have me second-guessing. I need to know we’re still on the same page.
Her response is to tunnel her fingers into my hair and yank my mouth to hers.
“Yes,” she says, her lips brushing mine. “I’m sure.”
Tightening those gorgeous fucking legs around my waist again, she pulls me impossibly closer.
I groan and drop my head to sink my teeth into her shoulder. “Hold on.” I rush the fifteen steps from the door to the bed and lower her, thankful I left the light on so I can witness her every reaction. One heel drops to the floor followed by the other, and her hands shift to the button on her pants.
“No,” I tell her.
“No?”
I drop to the mattress next to her and knock her fingers out of the way.
“I’ll take care of those.” I can’t resist running my hand along her thigh and between them when she parts her legs. The leather barrier is as much of a turn-on as it is a hindrance, as is the way she lifts her hips to follow my palm as it glides up.
Her mouth beckons to me again, and I settle between her thighs, dragging my lips back and forth across hers until she plants her palms on either side of my face, stopping me from moving away.
“Kiss me.”
Smiling against her lips, I give her what she demands, reacquainting myself with her unique flavor. Fuck. How does she always taste like cupcakes?
“How?” I ask, pulling away to trail my lips down her throat.
“How what?” Her voice is husky, her hands roaming my back as I continue my path down her body.
“You taste like cupcakes.”
Her eyes pop open, hazed over. “What?”
“Cupcakes.”
“I—my lip gloss? It’s sugar cookie flavored.”
I shake my head to negate that argument.
“It’s you. You taste so fucking good.” With a groan, I nip at her collarbone, partially hidden under the fabric of her altered concert tee.
She mewls, running her nails down my back until she can cup my ass. Given the layers of clothing between us, I can only imagine the heat of her pussy against me, but I don’t fucking care. My imagination is plenty. For now.
I drop my mouth to one of the puckered nipples straining against the thin cotton material and suck, tonguing the fabric around the point until she writhes against me. Only then do I sink my teeth into her slowly and tug.
“Evan.”
“You like that, princess?”
I repeat the caress, finding the waistband of her pants at the same time and following the smooth skin to the button I flick open with ease.
