Page 54 of The Trouble with Mistletoe

I loop an arm around her waist, pulling her against me, trying to be gentle but at the same time needing more of her. When a soft moan falls from her throat, whatever control I’ve been able to hold on to snaps.

I pin her against the door and dig my fingers into her hair, angling her the way I want her, giving myself permission to feel everything I’ve been forcing myself to ignore.

Her grip on me tightens, and my heart pounds against my ribs as the rest of the world disappears.

There is no Wyatt.

No divorce.

No age difference.

There is only Wynter, me, and this kiss that’s set me on fire.

Too soon, she pulls her lips from mine but doesn’t push away. She stays close, our ragged breathing filling the silence.

“Who knew the boy next door could kiss like that?” she whispers, lifting her eyes to mine. When I look into them, there’s a spark I’ve never seen before.

“In case you haven’t noticed,” I begin, rolling my hips against her so she can feel the effect she has on me, “I’m not a boy anymore.”

She smirks. “I’ve noticed.”

“Then stop thinking of me as the boy next door.” I dip my head to her neck, my mouth brushing the shell of her ear. “Or your brother’s best friend.” My lips skim her jaw, my teeth grazing her skin. “Or whatever other category you’ve put me in.”

“Then what should I think of you as?”

“As a man.” I bring my hand to her cheek. “A man who wants nothing more than to give you everything you’ve been too afraid to want.”

A slow smile tugs at her lips as she threads her fingers through my hair. “I think I can do that.”

Then she pulls my lips back to hers.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

WYNTER

Holy shit.

Holy fucking shit.