To Kiss A Kringle (Southern Sanctuary Book 13)

by Jane Cousins

  Whew. She just needed a minute, maybe two to luxuriate in all that wonderful sensation. Get her breath back. Oh, my. She glanced down, everything low in her body tightening in anticipation as Cullen looked up at her, a slow, sexy grin full of promise settling on his lips, as he shucked his silk boxers in a liquid motion.

  Now? No. She just needed a moment. To catch her breath. To recalibrate and put the brakes on the maelstrom of sensations that were still flowing through her cells.

  Cullen grabbed Patricia by the hips, sliding her closer, the warm velvet beneath her a sharp contrast to the heated, hard, muscular planes of Cullen as he leaned over, capturing her lips. Sinking into the kiss as he sank into her swollen, hyper sensitive core. Oh, Goddess. It was too much, but at the same time, bring it.

  The feel of his cock so sublime, stretching her, and the angle with which he held her meant that his pistoning length rubbed against a multitude of sensitive nodes that dissolved Patricia’s ability to think. All she could do was feel. Submersed in sensation.

  Cullen was fighting to hold on to one last shred of reasoning. Hell, the symphony that was Patricia, the taste, the smell, the touch of her, it was all but drowning him and he was too much of a willing victim. Damn, this had never happened. Where was the detached Archer? The calculating analyst? His instincts were fired up, addicted to her lips, the feel of her fingers gripping at him, urging him deeper, harder. Some primal need had gripped him, to possess… better still, to be possessed.

  Cullen’s lips were everywhere. Branding her mouth. Teasing and suckling her nipples. Nuzzling heated trails up and down the sensitive skin along the side of her throat. Goddess, Patricia had never been more grateful for the disparity in their height. And you wouldn’t be hearing any complaints from her that Cullen’s cock wasn’t warrior size… the angle, the speed… the friction was sending wave after wave of escalating sensations. Her heart racing, her blood pounding, the intoxicating feel of champagne popping beneath her skin, once simmering, but Cullen had turned up the heat to boil.

  She needed release. She never wanted this moment to end.

  Cullen hung on to that last shred of sanity with all his might. Mustn’t come too soon. But by the Mists, the feel of Trix’s hot core gripping him vice tight as she surged upwards to meet his thrusts, her hands clutching at him like she never wanted to let him go. It was heady, addictive stuff. He was surprised he hadn’t let go already. But that last shred, it seemed to understand that this woman was special, unique. Meant for him. And in order to make her his, possess her, then he had to double down. Had to brand himself on her at a cellular level.

  He lifted her legs ever so slightly higher. Letting all his instincts take over. Unleashing that part of him that he always kept so tightly under control, under lock down.

  Patricia moaned. Heavens, that angle, it was so right. She felt the orgasm building, afraid for a moment that the crescendo was out of reach then she was crashing through that barrier. Her core spasming as a shockwave rippled though her, but still Cullen thrust on… no… Goddess, no… a second wave looming and she was helpless to do anything but cling to him, as another tsunami of sensation slammed through her, her back arching, a second orgasm sizzling through her, all but taking her breath away as Cullen thrust once more and came, her name on his lips as he did so.

  Even wrung out and more than sated, liquid heat unfurled deep inside her as Cullen collapsed on top of her, a welcome weight. She could feel the pounding of his heart. Muscles in his legs quivering. The warm panting of his breath on her bare shoulder as he sought to calm and collect himself. It made her feel powerful, knowing the affect she had on him.

  Cullen made no attempt to move. He wasn’t even sure he could. But he forced himself to lift his head and check that Trix was okay. That in his all but mindless state he hadn’t hurt or scared her.

  Hazel eyes, glinted with copper sparkles, a satisfied smile lifting the corners of her luscious lips. Sweat glistened on her brow and darkened her hair, warm colour flooding her cheeks. But other than that she didn’t look upset or afraid. Of course being Trix she read the wary concern that he tried to hide by dipping his head low once more.

  “What, you thought I’d be complaining?” She laughed softly, watching the flames from the fire cast shadows across the dark, high ceiling. Absently trailing a hand up Cullen’s naked spine, identifying each and every vertebrae in turn.

  Cullen fought not to shudder. That laugh, the fact that she continued to touch him so casually, it both soothed and excited him. That part of him, the primal instinctive predator that lived deep inside him and denoted a large percentage of the population as nothing more than prey, a target, it luxuriated in her acceptance. Pleased that their mate was happy… shit, mate? He was getting ahead of himself here. But it was Trix, how could he help himself.

  He tamped down hard on the idea of opening his mouth and begin sprouting words like commitment, love, and forever. It would be a rookie mistake to mention them. Trix more than likely to dismiss them as nothing more than heat of the moment, meaningless nothings. Instead he turned his head slightly and planted a gentle kiss on her collar bone. “Well, technically, you are my superior. My boss. Always evaluating, critiquing… if you do have a problem with my performance, now’s the time to tell me.”

  “You fishing for praise?” Damn, her quivering muscles were only just now beginning to calm down. But no way was she going to put this man on a pedestal just because he gifted her with three orgasms… three? Damn, she had a horrible suspicion that she may never find a man to measure up to Cullen. Which considering his five-foot-eight inches in height shouldn’t have been a hard thing. But he was so much more than just his height.

  “Praise? They do say you catch more flies with honey than vinegar.”

  For some reason she flashed back to the sight of him crouched between her legs, tonguing her needy core. Heavens. She wanted him again… and again. The strength of her desire surprised and shocked her. She was beginning to think she might have made a horrible mistake here. And wake up woman, he’s still inside you. Oh, good Goddess. She struggled to sit up, to push him out, away.

  But Cullen was all hard muscle and hyper aware of her, alerted by the sudden alarm that coursed through her. Distributing his weight slightly differently, he easily held her in place, lifting his head to stare down at her. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Just this is awkward, lying here, you….” She didn’t want to say the words, still inside of me. Instead she tried to squirm away, nope, that just made things worse. A lot worse as her internal muscles tightened.

  “If you keep that up, then things are going to get very interesting again, very quickly.”

  “You’re kidding?” Patricia froze. “Well maybe if you sat up and…”

  “What changed?” Cullen wasn’t moving until he understood why Trix suddenly needed to create some distance between them. His predatory instincts telling him it would be a distinct mistake to retreat now. If he gave her distance, time, all those barriers of hers would slam back down.

  “Nothing’s changed. But we had sex. And now we’re done.”

  “When you issued the invitation, I didn’t realise there was a time limit involved.”

  Grrr, so irritating, he had to go and remind her she’d been the one to initiate this. Fighting the urge to rub against those hard muscular planes as a raft of memories coursed through her. Seriously? Three orgasms already and she wasn’t satisfied? Well, that wanton behaviour stopped here, now. “I think it’s very clear that both us are… finished.”

  Cullen’s lips quirked up, wondering what word she had been going to use. “Hmmm. You sure about that?”

  “Very.” Abrupt terseness in her tone.

  “Except you seem to be sending me mixed messages.”

  Patricia was about to demand an explanation when she felt Cullen shudder slightly, his jade green eyes heating up, their intensity startling as flickering flames reflected in their depths. Good Goddess, she’d done th
at. Horrified to find that while she’d been trying to call a halt to proceedings, her body appeared to have a different agenda. She was still touching, exploring, caressing his back. And had obviously hit a very sensitive spot. His cock immediately hardening and lengthening within her swollen core. Oh, Merciful Lady. Immediately she stopped touching him. Hot colour flooding her cheeks.

  “Okay.” Cullen’s voice rough, husky with desire. “I could withdraw.” He suited his actions to his words.

  Patricia’s breath caught in her throat, that felt so good, she didn’t want him to go, fighting the urge to clamp down on that wonderful hardness.

  “Or we could keep thrusting onwards.” Again Cullen suited his actions to his words. Thrusting slowly, deeply, back into the depths of her core. “Withdraw…. Thrust.” Oh, so slowly, excruciatingly slowly he withdrew several inches and then buried himself once more deeply in her core. “Which is it to be, Trix? You decide.”

  “You…” Hell, she found herself clutching at him, hating the idea that Cullen might actually withdraw completely just to teach her a lesson. “Why… why are you doing this?”

  “To prove my…” He just stopped himself from saying the ‘L’ word. “… dedication… my work… ethic.”

  Damn him. She gripped his hips, surging up to meet him. “Shut up and fuck me.”

  “Yes, Boss. Immediately, Boss. Anything you say, Boss.”

  Patricia reached up, grabbed a hank of his midnight hair and pulled, slamming her lips against his. Anything to get him to shut up and concentrate on the job at hand. And since her lips were occupied she knew there would be no danger of her begging him to never stop… to never leave.

  * * *

  “How could you possibly have known that my leg would bend back that far?”

  “I watched you at the ice rink, remember?”

  “And from that you extrapolated my flexibility? Wow.”

  “You complaining?”

  “Goddess, no. No complaints here… just trying to work out the exact parameters of where you and your magic begin and end.” Patricia snuggled deeper into the velvet cushions, taking an absent bite of the bacon and egg roll Cullen had made for her.

  Cullen picked up the second roll on his plate and took a bite. He’d burned through a lot of energy last night with Trix, it was past time to refuel. His attention caught suddenly by the scoop neck of her purple jumper as it threatened to slide off one shoulder. There was something so damn sexy about this woman sitting next to him wearing nothing but her sweater, her long bare legs curled up under her, just giving him the briefest glimpse of her matching purple underwear. The firelight playing over her hair, reflected in her bright eyes.

  “There is no defining line when you are an Archer. The magic is ingrained so deeply into our cells that it just is.”

  “No off switch?” Patricia was fascinated, wiping her mouth absently with her napkin as she considered those ramifications.

  Cullen was wondering if Patricia was hinting that she knew how deeply he’d allowed himself to sink into that primal magical part of himself tonight, with her. Becoming nothing but pure predator, pure instinct. Then he noted the hot colour that had flooded her cheeks. She was embarrassed by something, he’d give anything to know what she was thinking.

  Grrr, the man was so confusing. According to him, he’d been perfectly aware she’d been open to the two of them doing the dirty deed when she was dressed as Evangeline. Her heart rate. Her breathing. All would have been neon signs to him. And yet, though she’d never looked better, seriously, wasn’t a dewy-eyed, blue eyed, red headed sexed up prima ballerina every man’s dream come true? He’d hustled her out the door with nothing but polite haste.

  Yet, now, when she must look a dreadful sight. Hair a tangled mess. Make-up long gone. Covered in scrapes and bruises, she kept seeing nothing but heated intensity in those jade green depths. Certainly he’d been relentless last night. Leaving her only twice to add wood to the fire and once just after a watery dark grey dawn had broken, disappearing into the kitchen and emerging with food and juice.

  Even now, those eyes were settled on her, burning, intimating that he wasn’t finished with her yet. Goddess, how could that be? After last night? She didn’t think she’d slept at all. Cullen hadn’t let her. And anytime she tried to move away, break the spell, get some distance, he somehow managed to entangle her limbs or distract her with his clever, roving mouth. All she could do was turn in his arms and seek the release that his teasing, taunting lips and dexterous fingers promised.

  “What about your magic?”

  “Mine?”

  “It works on vibrations, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes. Effectively it’s sound waves so low on the spectrum that the human ear can’t detect it.”

  Cullen was fascinated. But then when didn’t he find everything about this woman fascinating. “When did you realise that it could be utilised as a weapon?”

  “When I was fourteen. A group of us were exploring the cliffs at the far end of Hidden Cove and there was a rockslide. Instinctively I just seemed to know what to do. Creating a barrier of sound waves.”

  “And that’s how you eventually found your way to becoming an Enforcer?”

  “I told you I kicked ass. I just didn’t find the work satisfying enough. The Library is a better fit for me.”

  “An intellectual warrior.”

  Patricia felt a warm glow explode low in her body. That was the nicest compliment she’d ever received. She tucked that feeling away. Knowing after Cullen was gone she’d want to re-play this moment over and over again, bask in it. Because she was so not getting attached. There was no point. Which also meant she should stop asking personal questions. The sex had been nothing but a physical act. But here, now, talking, sharing, it was beginning to feel way too intimate. Too easy.

  “So, you said this was your parents’ place? Where are they?”

  “I believe they are currently in Dover. Playing tourist.”

  “Playing?”

  “One of my Uncles has a credible lead that there is a terrorist cell smuggling arms in along the coastline there. They are taking point.”

  “You’re not worried about them?”

  “My mother can still shoot a bullseye three thousand metres out. And my father runs fifty miles a day. So no, not particularly.”

  “Impressive. Are they both Archers then?”

  “My mother is. She met my father when she was nineteen on her first overseas assignment. He was a sniper with the Jagdkommando.”

  “Austrian Armed Special Forces?”

  “Yes. An ex-British agent had set up a cult with a paramilitary bent in the mountains just over the Austrian border from Italy. He was threatening to blow up train tunnels, using British stolen armaments, which is where my mother came in.”

  “Fascinating.”

  Cullen had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. His father usually told this story every Christmas, more than half drunk. A distinct sparkle in his eye when he recounted the tale of when he first laid eyes upon what he thought was a nubile, lost backpacker, who had accidentally stumbled into his surveillance operation. Cullen generally blocked his ears as his father recounted the nights spent in a cabin, waiting for the snow to stop. “Yes, well, long story short. My mother says that she knew from the moment she watched my father fire his rifle that he was the man for her.” And Cullen resolutely chose to believe she meant his father’s SSG 69 bolt action rifle and that it was not a euphuism for anything else.

  “Oh, that’s sweet. And how scary organised are they?” Patricia looked around at all the shimmering Christmas decorations. The only thing missing was the Christmas tree which she assumed would be added later.

  Cullen had the feeling that Trix had the completely wrong handle on his parents. And he really didn’t want to pop that bubble just at the moment by sharing that there was a salon across the hallway decorated for Easter. A conservatory decked out for the summer solstice celebration. Nor share the fact t
hat many of the Christmas decorations in here had been hanging since before his birth.

  His mother was scarily efficient in the field. But when it came to home life she was rather haphazard. Yet, somehow, thanks to their large extended family who popped by constantly, there was always plenty to eat. The house was kept clean. And the booze cabinet was always, mysteriously, exceedingly well-stocked.

  Cullen glanced at the french doors, noting that while rain continued to beat at the panes the storm appeared to be backing off. The grey light filtering in was slightly brighter. And the hail pellets falling along with the rain smaller. He had two choices, get dressed and head outside to fossick through the outbuildings to find tools suitable to fix the buckled door of the Transportal. Or, he could throw a few more logs on the fire, divest Trix of that sweater and do some more exploring.

  He knew which way his body was voting. His head quickly weighing up the pros and cons of what that time delay would mean when it came to tracking down Mara and her cohorts if they took the day off. The trail couldn’t get any colder. And it was so pleasant here, cut off, together. Plenty of wood for the fire. Food in the fridge. And since the electricity had come back on in the early hours, loads of hot water. Hmm, bathing with Trix in the roman bathhouse installed in the basement, next to the indoor gun range. Trix wet, soapy, her skin glistening. Yeah, he’d love to see that.

  Patricia wasn’t sure she liked that look in Cullen’s eyes. Stuffing the last of her bacon roll in her mouth, she chewed furiously, then drained the last of her juice. “So? What do we do now?”

  “Well, you know that Christmas song that goes along the lines – so the weather outside is frightful?” He tilted his head towards the rain and sleet pelting the windows.

  He couldn’t be serious, again? And why was her core creaming in readiness? She should have been more than sated. She should be good for months, years maybe. Except that heated look in Cullen’s eyes, it was so damn tempting to just switch off her common sense and go with the flow. She wanted to so badly. The sight of him sitting there in nothing but trousers and socks. Firelight flickering over the planes of his muscular chest.