Spying Under the Mistletoe (Love Undercover Book 2)

by Stina Lindenblatt

  He nods. “My mom tried to convince me to become a cop—not that she and Dad were thrilled with me walking away from my job. It was safer, she said. But I didn’t want safer. I didn’t want to be a coward like those guys who harassed my girlfriend.”

  At what is no doubt a confused expression on my face, he clarifies. “They didn’t stick around to help her after the car hit her. They ran off. Witnesses reported what they’d seen, and the cops pieced together what had happened.”

  “You’re definitely not a coward. I might’ve only known you for a few weeks, but even I can see that. Never mind facing down the enemy while you were a SEAL, you’ve braved being a kindergarten teacher without any formal training or experience with kids.”

  He laughs, the tightness in his body visibly lessening. “You might have a point there.”

  I lift my chin and give him a smug grin. “I know I do.” The grin fades. “I really am sorry I took the risk when I knew better. And I’m sorry I did this”—I gesture at the Christmas decorations with the sweep of my hand—“without asking you first.”

  “That’s all right. Sarah died seven years ago. For the most part, I’d thought I had moved on. I guess I haven’t.”

  “You have nothing to feel guilty about, Landon. She chose not to listen to you. That’s not your fault.” I give his hand a light squeeze.

  He nods. “You’re right.” Now, if only he sounded more convinced.

  Eager to change the topic, I ask, “How was your meeting?”

  “Long,” is all he says, clearly eager to avoid that topic, too.

  I push myself off the couch. “I was going to make hot chocolate and popcorn and watch a Christmas movie. Did you want to join me? Or we could watch something else.”

  “A movie sounds good.”

  While the hot chocolate heats, I make the popcorn.

  “Did you find anything?” I ask Landon, who’s searching Netflix while I’m getting everything ready.

  “You really want a Christmas movie?”

  “Yep. It’s tradition.” My tradition.

  “They’re mostly romances.”

  “Watching a Christmas romance isn’t gonna kill you. You might even learn something from it.”

  He mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, “I highly doubt it.”

  I take the remote from his hand. “Always a skeptic, huh?”

  “You know how many Christmas romances my mom and sisters made me watch growing up?”

  I shake my head, lips pressed together to keep from laughing at his perturbed expression.

  “Way too many. And they were never educational like my sisters claimed they would be.”

  I had no chance of holding back the laugh after that. I might have not met Kathy and Evie—and probably never will—but I was already in love with them based on everything Landon had told me about them.

  “Didn’t they make your father watch them, too?”

  “My father was a lot smarter than I was. Or maybe it was my mother who was the smarter one. She had a list of things that needed fixing around the house, which Dad never got around to doing. But he always suddenly found time to do them whenever my mother and sisters decided it was time to watch a romance.”

  That makes me laugh even harder.

  Still laughing, I scroll through the selection and pick one that I’m sure Landon will hate, just because. I’ve seen it before, so I know it won’t be super cheesy. No point giving him any ammunition.

  He groans.

  “Part of your cover,” I tell him, “is that you have to watch the movies I want to see. And that includes Christmas romances.” I fuel my tone with the right amount of smugness and wink at him.

  “But that’s only when we’re in public.” He reaches for the remote in my hand.

  I bat it away. “Usually a cover means you have to live it twenty-four seven. There are no halfway in-betweens on this.”

  He rolls his eyes and lunges for the remote. I reach behind me, preventing him from getting hold of it. All I accomplish is that I make it too easy for him to knock me backward onto the couch.

  With my arm still stretched above my head, I squirm under his weight, trying to get into a position that will make it easier to roll him off me.

  He rocks his hips, his hard cock pressing against my core. I gasp.

  This is not how I initially saw things playing out.

  “How about we have a contest to determine who gets to pick the movie?” he asks.

  “Yeah, okay. That sounds fair.” Because I plan to win.

  Right, maybe I should find out what the contest is before I so enthusiastically agree.

  He rocks once more. “Whoever gives the other person an orgasm first gets to pick the movie.”

  I contemplate it for a second. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

  23

  Landon

  I rock my hard cock along her pussy, hidden under the fabric of her jeans.

  It strains against the zipper of my jeans.

  Fuck.

  What the hell was I thinking?

  Clearly, I wasn’t. I’m only two steps from blowing my load, and my manhood is facing great peril thanks to the Christmas romance I’ll be forced to watch if I don’t win.

  But I’m hardly going to let Chloe know that.

  “So how are we doing this?” she asks. “Time each other and see who lasts the longest before they have an orgasm?”

  “No. I’ll be giving you an orgasm at the same time you’ll be aiming to give me one. The first one to give the other person an orgasm is the winner.”

  Her eyebrow lifts. “I hope that doesn’t mean as soon as you come, that’s the end of the contest, and I don’t get to experience an orgasm.”

  “That won’t be an issue, because you’ll be coming first. But yes, if I come first, I guarantee I’ll finish what I started. No one goes unsatisfied.”

  “All right, may the best woman win, because I really want to see The Christmas Prince.” She straddles my legs again and reaches for the hem of my T-shirt, a determined look in her eyes.

  Dream on, sweetheart.

  I pull the hem of her top up her body, exposing her white cotton bra. “No sexy underwear on a weeknight?” I tug the top over her head and drop it to the floor.

  “Woof.”

  I peer over the edge of the couch, almost sending Chloe flying.

  Her light purple top shuffles along the floor like a colored apparition.

  Chloe laughs and reaches to yank the fabric off Whiskey. He jumps his paws onto the couch and glances between us.

  “We might want to continue this contest upstairs,” I tell her. “I’m not exactly looking to have an audience.” This isn’t a game show.

  “Good idea.” She moves off my lap. “Stay here,” she tells Whiskey, even though doing what he’s told isn’t one of his superpowers.

  He starts to follow after her.

  “No, Whiskey,” she says. “Stay.” She takes another step forward…and so does Whiskey.

  “Whiskey, bed.” I point to his bed by the couch.

  He tilts his head to the side, my command lost on him.

  Like it is every time we try this.

  “Dude, I don’t think you understand. I’m about to get the orgasm of a lifetime, and you’re staying here until we get back.”

  “Woof.”

  Chloe laughs and covers her mouth with her hand. “Sounds like he understands just fine.”

  “I guess I’ll have to put him in his crate.” The last thing I want is for him to scratch on my bedroom door at a crucial moment.

  He lets out a little whimper, looks between Chloe and me, then walks to his bed and plonks down on it.

  I grab hold of Chloe’s hand and pull her along behind me. “The decorations look great,” is the only thing I say before leading her upstairs.

  They do look great. Sarah would’ve loved them.

  The moment we’re in my room—the door shut behind us—we’re tearing each other’s c
lothes off. But what starts out impatient quickly turns into something else.

  Slow.

  Languid.

  A teasing seduction.

  Another unexpected emotion hovers in the fringes. What I’m starting to feel for Chloe goes deeper than wanting to get her off and win the bet.

  It’s an emotion I don’t want to examine too closely, especially not now.

  Especially not when there’s a movie at stake.

  We continue removing each other’s clothes until we’re standing by the bed, naked. I don’t even remember walking the short distance to it. Each exploring touch of her fingers short-circuits my brain. Each press of her lips against my body isn’t helping it either.

  I lower her to the bed, my intent of winning the contest for remote-control domination quickly forgotten. I want to worship her body, to show her she deserves so much more than her fathers and ex-boyfriends ever felt for her.

  She deserves to be loved and wanted.

  Yes, but you’re not the man to do that. This is only temporary until the Feds find Nikolai Orlov and learn who has the contract out on her.

  You aren’t her real boyfriend.

  Hell, she doesn’t even know I work for the Feds. She still thinks I’m employed by her cousin. A cousin who hasn’t done anything to protect her. If it weren’t for Liam’s team, she’d already be dead.

  My stomach clenches. I push the thought away and focus on the beautiful nymph beneath my hands.

  The one who has just wrapped her hand around my hard cock.

  All I care about right now is showing her what she means to me, even if I can never say the words to her.

  While she pumps her fist along my length, eliciting groans from deep in my chest, my thumb spreads the slick wetness around her clit.

  My mouth finds a hard nipple, and I suck on it, tease it with my tongue and teeth. She moans and writhes, her body getting closer and closer to losing control.

  That makes two of us.

  Her hands are as busy as mine. One strokes my length. The other one plays with my balls, squeezing them, gently tugging on them. I’m so close to coming. Any more of this and I’ll be too far gone, and that’s something I’m not ready for just yet—and it has nothing to do with the contest.

  I grab a condom from my bedside drawer, open the foil square, and roll it down my length. There’s no doubt Chloe is ready for me. Her soft moans of my name, combined with her “Oh, Gods,” are all I need to hear.

  Neither of us will last much longer.

  I position myself against her entrance. My cock begs to thrust inside her, to feel her soft, tight heat wrapped around it. But this, what we’re about to do, has nothing to do with me and everything to do with her.

  I slowly push myself in, torturing myself in the process, but it’s worth it. Her unsuppressed cries are worth the near pain of taking things excruciatingly slow.

  “Come for me, Chloe, and you’ll get to watch whatever movie you want,” I say between panted breaths. “I don’t care what it is. I just need you to come first.” So I can watch her explode around me.

  That surpasses any movie.

  Her gaze locks on mine, and whatever she finds there is all she needs to see. With a cry that Whiskey no doubt hears, her body shudders, and her heat tightens around me with a gratifying hug.

  The pressure building in my lower region peaks to the point of no return, and a dizzying hot light engulfs me. I grunt out my release with a long animalistic noise…and collapse next to her on the bed.

  I was right when I told Whiskey I was about to experience an orgasm of a lifetime. I can’t remember the last time it was this intense.

  This mind-numbing.

  It takes me a minute to regain awareness.

  I pull Chloe against me and kiss her temple. My hands caress her body, needing confirmation she’s still here with me.

  She runs her fingers across the expanse of my chest, clearly lost in thought.

  “What are you thinking?” I ask because I really want to know.

  She shifts to look down at me and gently kisses my lips. “It’s nothing.” Her skin is flushed from our lovemaking, and it practically steals my breath away.

  “Are you sure?”

  She smiles, and my heart squeezes in my chest at the sight of it. I love her smiles. They have a way of brightening even the dreariest day. But this one is so much more than that.

  I cup the back of her head and bring it to mine for another soul-baring kiss.

  And the popcorn, hot chocolate, and movie are quickly forgotten.

  Eventually, we do drag ourselves out of bed. Whiskey needs to be taken outside. Plus, all the activity between the covers is making us hungry.

  I grab my clean hockey jersey from the chair and toss it to her. “Here, put this on, and we’ll go get something to eat and watch the movie.”

  She quickly slips it over her head. The heavy fabric drops into place, reaching the tops of her thighs.

  My cock, exhausted as it is, stirs to life once more. It takes all my willpower, and then some, not to toss her onto the bed and make love to her again.

  Downstairs, Chloe heats the hot chocolate and curls up against me on the couch as we start watching the movie. The bowl of popcorn sits perched on my lap.

  The movie really is as sappy as I was expecting. But since it makes Chloe happy, I don’t complain.

  Or at least I assume she’s happy. She rubs her fingers under her eyes.

  “Are you okay?” I ask, looking between her and the TV screen.

  “I always cry at this part.”

  That has me even more confused. It’s not like anyone died or anything. Just the opposite.

  Seeing the confusion stamped on my face, she clarifies, “I’m a sucker for happy endings.”

  I’ve never really understood why women cry at sappy endings. My mother and sisters were the same. They always had a box of tissues on hand whenever they watched what they called tearjerkers.

  The corner of my mouth twitches up. “That seriously made you cry?”

  “Sure, he finally got the girl. She realized she couldn’t live without him.”

  “I’m betting the prince is just relieved he’s finally getting laid.”

  Chloe smirks at me through a tear-stained face. “I’m sure that’s exactly what he was thinking when he got down on one knee to propose.” She snatches up the reindeer pillow next to her and hits me on the arm.

  I grab my biceps, pretending to be gravely wounded. Cautiously, she lowers the cushion, and I pull her onto my lap, taking advantage of the movement.

  Her eyes shine at me, and for a moment, we just stare at each other. The only sounds in the room are the faint snores from the direction of Whiskey’s bed and the closing credits.

  Her gaze drops to my lips.

  I stroke my thumb against her cheek. There’s no doubt about it, I’m falling for Chloe.

  And I’m falling hard.

  24

  Chloe

  The final bell rings. “Don’t forget to take your hats and gloves with you,” I remind the kids. It never fails that someone forgets something in their rush to go home. As it is, they’ve been bouncing off the walls for the past hour, ready for the weekend to begin.

  Once the last of the kids trails out the door to the hallway, Landon strolls through the one connecting our classrooms. It’s been four days since I decorated his town house.

  Four days since I felt something shift inside me during the contest to make each other climax first.

  He flashes me a wicked smile and gives me a very thorough kiss.

  My heart and breath respond, picking up speed. The same way they always behave every time he kisses me after the final bell. The kisses are now a daily occurrence, ever since we opened up about his old girlfriend and about my father, stepfather, and Mark.

  Things have also shifted between us, but I can’t put my finger on why exactly that is. I’m nothing more than a mission to him, a notch in the old proverbial belt.


  My heart does a little flutter kick as if that’s the only answer I need. But it might also be because he’s still kissing me.

  It’s not a naughty, let’s-get-down-and-dirty kiss. This kiss stirs something deep in my soul.

  And I suddenly know why.

  I’m falling for him. Even though I know better due to my past, my heart apparently isn’t all that wise.

  That, or it’s just a glutton for punishment.

  Yep, definitely the latter.

  He pulls away. “You know what we still need?”

  I glance around the classroom, trying to puzzle it out. “No, what?”

  “To get a Christmas tree. We decorated the one at the seniors’ home last night, but I don’t have one in my town house.”

  “I thought you didn’t do Christmas decorating.”

  “I didn’t. But since you’ve already turned my living room and kitchen into a Hallmark Christmas card, we might as well go all-out and get a tree.”

  I grin, one step from clapping my hands like a little kid and doing a happy dance.

  “Do you have any decorations for it?” I ask, instead. I didn’t bring many tree ornaments with me when I raided my storage unit.

  “We can get some after we get the tree.”

  Still grinning, I remove my coat from the hook on the wall. “Let’s go get that tree.”

  At the tree lot, we wander the aisles, holding hands. The place is quaint, with crafts set up to entertain the kids, a booth selling hot chocolate, upbeat Christmas music piped through the speakers, and employees dressed as elves.

  Just add snow, and the setting would be a scene right out of a romantic Christmas movie.

  I sip on my hot chocolate. “Wow, this is good.”

  “It’s their secret family recipe,” Adam tells me.

  That’s right, Landon and I aren’t the only ones here. The reason Landon even knew about this location is because of Adam.

  “Uncle Adam,” Emily says, beaming up at the tall man. “Can we see Santa?” The five-year-old tugs on his hand, not giving him a chance to say no.

  Landon and I follow the pair.