by Nalini Singh
He was touching her. He was holding her. He was really, really close to her, so close she could hear his breathing and smell his aftershave. Feel the hard press of his thigh against hers. Yep, he was holding her up close and personal. And her heart was going to crawl up her throat and choke her. Crap, she just wanted to relax and enjoy it. But it was wrong, wrong, wrong. It was all those sex symbols she’d drawn and tucked inside the mistletoe. It wasn’t real.
Yet she just couldn’t bring herself to shove him away. After all, this wasn’t his fault and she didn’t want to make him feel bad, or embarrass him. It’s not like anything really inappropriate was happening. They were just cozy up against each other. So he was brushing his finger down her cheek. Big deal. They were friends. They touched. It was normal. Friends hugged, too. They kissed occasionally. Hello. Good-bye. Good luck. Missed you.
But not like that. Holy moly macaroni, Will had closed that little sliver of a space between them and had brushed his lips over hers. The first time was soft, quick, gone before she had barely registered it had happened. But then he was back again, and this time he wasn’t playing around. His mouth came down firm, intense, taking her mouth in a hot, confident kiss that had her automatically responding, kissing back, desire igniting in every inch of her body. His grip on her waist tightened. She was too stunned to do anything but close her eyes and enjoy the moment. He tasted better than she could have ever expected, and the man knew what to do with his tongue.
There was no thrusting or pushing or awkwardness, just smooth, coaxing strokes of his tongue over hers, his warm, big body enveloping her everywhere. It was a hot and glorious contact that she let drag on and on, even when his hands dropped down and cupped her backside lightly. It was all good. It made sense to her when her eyes were closed and her lips were so happy, doing a delicious dance with Will. Everything seemed perfectly natural for a minute or two while her mind was mush under the influence of lust and longing.
But then his fingers brushed lower, down between her legs, from the back no less, in a blatantly sexual intimacy that ripped a gasp from her mouth, and sent a warm rush from her inner thighs. He’d made her wet. With just a kiss and a little butt groping.
And it had taken a lust spell to get him to so much as lip lock with her.
Charlotte broke the kiss, the embrace, and whatever else you wanted to call the sensual cloud she’d been floating in, and ducked under Will’s arm to get the hell away. She was cheap and easy and she was in love with him. It would be wrong, wrong, wrong, with a capital W to sleep with him.
Will wiped his bottom lip as he turned, giving her a slow, sexy smile. “Where you going, Charlotte?”
At least she was pretty sure it would be wrong to have sex with him.
“That was feeling really good to me, and I wasn’t finished.”
Maybe it wasn’t wrong. If he liked it.
A quick glance at the front of his jeans showed he liked it very much, thank you.
Five
WILL WAS FEELING OPTIMISTIC. ALONG WITH TURNED ON, hot and bothered, and good old-fashioned horny. Charlotte had let him kiss her. She hadn’t balked or pinched her lips together or wrinkled her nose. Not only had she let him kiss her, she’d done some mighty nice kissing back, including touching the tip of his tongue with her own. And she hadn’t seemed to mind his hands on her ass, if the way she had been pressing up against him was any indication.
She’d run eventually, but he had expected that. That was workable, fine, something he could overcome. As long as she was attracted to him, interested in taking their friendship to the next level, Will could deal with a case of nerves. But the minute he had pulled her shopping bags out of the trunk of her car and seen the mistletoe lying on top, tied with a ribbon and ready for hanging, he had known that Bree was right. Charlotte did feel something for him more than friendship and the mistletoe he’d scrunched up and shoved into his front pocket was proof. Why else would she buy mistletoe to hang in his place if she didn’t want him to kiss her?
He was feeling so pleased that he didn’t even mind that she didn’t answer him at all when he told her wasn’t finished kissing her, just dove back into her shopping bags with gusto, clearly flustered.
“I think your tree should go in front of the living room window. We’ll move your coffee table over there and set it on top. That way everyone driving by on the road can see it, too.”
“Good thinking,” he said, leaning against the couch, just wanting to watch her for a minute. Charlotte was such a beautiful woman. Her beauty was fresh and natural, and while she cared about her appearance and took care of herself, she didn’t primp and fuss and overprocess. She was also an intriguing blend of confidence and modesty, ambition and shyness, and he appreciated, enjoyed that about her.
“I brought my iPod, too,” she said, yanking it out of her purse and holding it up in front of her like a shield. Her cheeks were flushed pink. “Christmas music. I figured you wouldn’t have any.”
“Wonderful.” Will started toward her, but she moved again, practically jogging to the speaker he had sitting on his end table. “Charlotte.”
“Hmm?” Her back was to him as she switched his player for hers. “Jingle Bells” blared out into his living room. “Oh, too loud. Sorry.”
She bent over a little to adjust the volume, and Will almost groaned. Charlotte’s ass in a pair of jeans was a beautiful thing. His mouth went dry just looking at the way the denim hugged her curves, especially at the apex of her thighs. “Are you just going to ignore the fact that we kissed each other?”
The song switched to “The Happy Little Elf.” Now that was sexy. Not. He moved right up behind her, needing to kill the distracting music.
Charlotte whirled around and held the remote against her chest. “Yes, I was actually totally going to ignore the fact that we…you know.”
“Kissed?” He almost laughed. She looked so embarrassed, you’d think they had done something downright kinky instead of just swapped spit for a minute.
She just nodded.
Will eased the remote from her hand and pointed it over her shoulder, shutting the music off. “I don’t want to ignore it. I want to kiss you again.”
“Why?” Her breath was coming in little urgent gasps, her hands still across her breasts even without anything to hold, and her chest rose and fell rapidly.
“Because it feels good.”
“We’re supposed to be decorating your Christmas tree.”
“We can do that, too.” He reached out and touched her cheek.
She jerked and tried to move away from him, clearly panicked.
He grabbed her hand and pulled her to a halt, then wrapped his arms around her. Giving her a soft kiss, he said, “Hey, what’s the matter? It’s me. Talk to me.”
Her eyes closed briefly, then she opened them and met his gaze. Her blue eyes were troubled. “What are we doing here?” she asked.
“We’re about to make love, Charlotte.” There. He’d said it. No going back.
A strange little squeak came out of her mouth that he found incredibly cute. “We are?”
“Yep.” Nothing he wanted more. Will lifted her hand and kissed her fingers, one by one. “Please say that I can.”
Her skin was soft, her hand trembling a little. She smelled good, a soft fruity perfume scent, and he could feel the tension in her body. He wanted her to relax, so he stayed that way himself, nice and loose, and allowing a good foot of space between them. Lacing his fingers through hers, he leaned forward and brushed his lips over hers. She had a creamy, even complexion, her fair skin the only thing she shared in common with her sisters physically. Will loved the softness of it, the unblemished perfection of her jawline, adored her tiny pink lips, and the perky upturn at the bottom of her nose. She was a truly beautiful woman, inside and out, and he was a lucky bastard to have her as a best friend.
He was also an ungrateful bastard, because he wanted more. Burying his free hand in her hair, he kissed her jaw, the corners
of her mouth, her neck.
“Will…”
Maybe it was meant to be a protest, but since she didn’t follow it up with any rejection, or any body language that indicated she wanted him to stop, he choose to take it as a pleasure thing. Especially since her hand pulled from his, but she grabbed on to his waist, hooking her fingers through his belt loops.
He dipped his tongue into her ear and she gave a startled moan. Music to his ears. Better sounding than the corny Christmas songs she was trying to shovel down his throat. Hands free, Will went back to holding her ass the way he had been earlier, though tighter this time, pulling her forward, bumping her jeans against his in a rhythmic little grind that made his erection downright hurt. Wanting her was the freakin’ understatement of the century. He wanted to eat her, to get inside her, to own her body with his, and to show Charlotte everything she meant to him.
It was strange to know her so well, to know her mannerisms, her laugh, her facial expressions, and hand gestures, yet to not know this part of her, the sexual side. To realize that there was something so elemental and huge that they had never seen in each other. Her responses were surprising him. He had expected tentativeness on her part, assumed he would have to coax her to respond, because Charlotte was a thinker. She was successful for the very reason that she was never impulsive. Yet she wasn’t showing the least sign of hesitation, despite her earlier words. She was now moving her hips of her own volition, and she had arched her neck to give him better access. Her hands had made their way around the back of his jeans and were firmly gripping right and left. Not just holding, she was actually copping quite a feel off him, and it was driving his desire even higher.
Yanking her sweater down at the neck in total disregard for the fact that she’d told him it was new and he’d probably just stretched it to hell and back, Will sucked the swell of her breast above her white satin bra. Damn. He wanted more and so did she, given the way she was moving restlessly between his thighs and making little sounds of encouragement. It wasn’t classy, but it wasn’t hard to peel the front of her bra back and expose her nipple. Barely allowing himself a glance, Will flicked his tongue over it for a quick taste, then gave in to temptation, and completely enclosed her with his mouth.
Charlotte almost left her skin when Will sucked on her nipple. She had spent plenty a night visualizing just such a thing, imagining how it would feel, and planning her sexy and suave response. But she could never have known it would feel like fire and ice, like an orgasm and ice cream all at once, or that she would blurt out, “Holy shit!” instead of something witty and urbane.
It wasn’t pretty, but it was exactly how she felt. Forcing her eyes open, she stared into Will’s brown hair, brain trying to convince her that this was actually happening. She and Will were getting it on standing up in his apartment with one hundred or so snowmen piled around them and his Christmas tree not even assembled yet.
Crazy but true.
She needed to get a grip. Literally. If she didn’t grab on to something besides his very fine butt, she was going to fall over. She needed to hold on to the table, but first she wanted just one teeny tiny little touch across the front of his jeans on her way past. If he was going to town on her chest—which she was really grateful he was—then surely she could just squeeze and take measure of what he had to offer. Well on her way to doing just that, she got caught on something by his front pocket.
Glancing down, she saw her finger had looped through red ribbon. “What’s this?” She pulled back from Will to get a better look.
“What? Who cares?” He tried to pry back down the bra cup that had sprung back into place, but Charlotte stood straight up, recognizing what she was looking at.
It couldn’t be. She yanked hard.
But it was.
He had the flipping mistletoe in his pocket.
“Where did you get this?” She dangled it in front of his face, horrified. He’d had the stinking mistletoe right next to his penis, of all things. That had to be seriously bad. And an obvious explanation for why he had kissed her, something he had never even hinted at before. For why he was even now reaching for her chest again.
“It was in one of the shopping bags,” he said, pushing it out of the way and trying to kiss her again.
Charlotte dodged the lip lock. Her heart was pounding and she felt slightly ill. The poor man had no idea she was manipulating him into wanting her. She was evil and selfish.
“Why was it in your pocket?”
“I grabbed it thinking I could hold it up and steal a kiss.” He grinned. “Turns out I didn’t even need it.”
Suddenly it seemed like Will had twelve hands and three mouths. He had a grip on her again and was nuzzling her ear, which was really distracting. The mistletoe was crushed between them, emitting a soft evergreen scent. “Will,” she said, gathering every ounce of willpower she had. This had to stop.
“Hmm?” He made a sexy little sound, a cross between a growl and a purr as he nipped at her bottom lip.
It was so unexpected and arousing, that Charlotte shuddered, letting the ecstasy flood over her for just a tiny stolen second. Then she corralled her resistance and, in a move out of pure desperation, yanked her arm free from its position between their chests and pitched the mistletoe clear across the room, where it skittered to a stop in the kitchen.
He briefly glanced over in the direction she’d thrown. “What are you doing?” But he didn’t really sound like he cared all that much. His eyes were on her breasts again.
Charlotte grabbed his cheeks and tipped his head up. “We need to talk.”
She was squeezing his face kind of hard and his lips were bulging forward. “What?” he said, speech mumbled from her tight grip.
“This way you’re feeling…you know, attracted to me. It’s because of the mistletoe. Bree showed me how to put a lust spell on it.” Charlotte winced and waited for his reaction.
“What?” he said again, looking at her blankly, his fingers resting on the neckline of her sweater, his intent clearly to pull it back down. “What the hell are you talking about?”
It sounded a little strange in retrospect. Letting go of his face, Charlotte pried her sweater out of his grip and pulled the neck back up, feeling more than a little bare, both literally and figuratively. “See, Bree thinks we’re witches, right? You know that.”
His eyebrow went up. “Yeah. So?”
There was just no reasonable way to explain this. “So she wants me to admit it, and in return she’ll wear a reindeer sweater for Christmas.” Not that Bree’s clothes were the slightest bit relevant to the conversation at hand, but Charlotte was avoiding having to say out loud that she wanted Will in the worst way.
“Okay. Can’t picture your sister in holiday gear, but whatever. And you’re actually willing to admit you’re a witch? That doesn’t seem like you.”
“Well…I didn’t have to say or do anything so much as I had to cast a spell. Which I thought wouldn’t work, because I really didn’t think I was witch. So I cast a lust spell on that mistletoe for you, knowing you wouldn’t react to it, then I could show Bree I’m not a witch at all. But you did react to it. So I am a witch and you’re just feeling desire for me because of the spell. It’s all not real, this…physical attraction for me; it’s the lust spell.”
His face was still really, really close to hers. It was a good long five seconds before he responded. Then he said carefully, “Why would you try to cast a lust spell on me?”
Oh, shoot. She was going to have to admit it. There was nothing for it. Charlotte swallowed hard and whispered, “Because I wanted you to want me. The way that I want you.”
There it was. He could do with it as he saw fit. Charlotte wanted to toss her dinner but she just sucked in a breath and waited for the blow.
Will touched her cheek. “Sweetheart.”
Tears popped into her eyes. Damn it, she was going to embarrass herself by crying, but the way he said that, so sweet, so tender, it was like he was to
uched, and needed to let her down easy. It was awful, yet so like him. He’d never hurt her intentionally, and she’d put him in this awkward position.
“The mistletoe had nothing to do with me kissing you.”
That wasn’t what she expected him to say. “What do you mean? Of course it did.”
“No, it didn’t. I kissed you because I wanted to. Because I want you. Sexually. And I have for a long, long time.”
She had fallen and bumped her head. She was dreaming. She had accidentally ingested hallucinogenic drugs without being aware of it. She had entered an alternative universe or fallen into a virtual reality world. Because it sounded like Will had just said he wanted her, too, and that was just impossible.
“No, you don’t.”
He laughed. “Yes, I do. And I’m damn glad to hear you feel the same way. Not to mention flattered that you would try to cast a lust spell on me. But honey, that wasn’t at all necessary because I’ve been lusting after you for years.”
“Years?” Was that her voice? She was downright squeaking. But Will was freaking her out. “But you’ve never once tried to do anything…you never tried to kiss me or anything. Are you sure it’s not the spell?”
She’d hate it and drop to the ground and kick and scream if it was the spell from hell, but she had to be sure. There was no way she could allow herself to get all excited and worked up thinking there was a future for her and Will, then have it yanked away. She would, quite simply, die if that were the case. Overdramatic, maybe. But still the truth.
“I did try to kiss you once five years ago. Don’t you remember? You gave me such a look of horror that I just flat out stopped. I thought you weren’t interested at all, that being friends is all you ever wanted.”
“You never tried to kiss me!” She would remember that. And she wouldn’t have pulled back. God, what had she missed? It wasn’t like a kiss attempt could really be mistaken for anything else, like reaching for a napkin, or pulling a stray hair off her face. It was impossible. She would have known.