Kissa Under the Mistletoe

by Courtney Sheets

  “Okay. I’ll do it. Love you, sis.” Kissa chuckled.

  “Love you, too. I want all the gossip, so call me later, and I’m totally calling Suhaila and telling her you’re plotting the naughty with Lucas. Oops, gotta go dance. Have fun,” Desari said in a rush before clicking off.

  Kissa shook her head in amusement and tossed the phone on the table. What the hell? She scooped up the clothes before heading into the bathroom. A bubbly soak in the decadent tub and some pampering and she’d be ready to face him.

  Chapter Three

  Lucas glided into the room he’d share with Kissa for the two weeks. If his carefully laid plans came to fruition on this trip, he’d get to keep her forever as his lover and wife. Shaking his head, he tossed the thoughts aside for a moment. Getting ahead of himself never served his purpose. First he’d seduce his girl with all the debauched treats planned, and then he’d make his move for the more lasting arrangement. Lucas had fallen in love with his dark-haired goddess the moment he’d laid eyes on her, but she never seemed to want more than friendship from him. In desperation, he’d come up with the idea to bring to her London for Christmas in the hopes of using the city and the season to finally tell her how he felt.

  Going down to the Meyers and Meyers offices one sweltering July day two years ago for lunch with a friend had seemed like a chore until he’d seen the beautiful woman who stole his heart. Her thick, blue-black hair spilled around her face as she leaned over an open file-cabinet drawer. Her black pencil skirt rode up on her lush thighs and let her stockings play peekaboo. She’d straightened, and he’d caught sight of her face with its clear, quicksilver eyes and kissable mouth. She leveled him like a teenage boy with his first centerfold. Lucas trailed his gaze down her body and let the lust hit him. Her prim white blouse, cut in the pinup style of the 1940s, strained to contain the most amazing pair of breasts he’d ever seen. His friend had introduced them, and he’d discovered they had much in common. Too bad somewhere along the line, she’d relegated him to the friend zone, a place he sought to escape.

  They’d spent many an evening on his couch, watching old movies, with Kissa wrapped in his arms, her head resting on his chest, and those amazing curves pressed against him. She understood him in ways no woman had before. She’d tell him about her workday, and he’d regale her with stories of his students—usually followed by her teasing him about them. Still, she’d never given him any indication she wanted to move beyond friendship. Except for last New Year’s Eve.

  Lucas had brought Kissa as his date to a party, thrown by the English Department, in an effort to thwart the unwanted attentions of a new graduate student who’d developed of a crush on him. Kissa had willingly played the imaginary girlfriend for the night. However, after consuming a bit more to drink than normal, she’d cornered him in a dark room. Shoving him against a wall, she had proceeded to kiss him until she’d stolen his very breath away. In the morning, she’d claimed to remember nothing about the party. Lucas suspected she’d used the “amnesia” as a shield. He wanted his girl to admit to herself, and to him, that she wanted more than a few stolen kisses at a party.

  After dropping the discreet black shopping bag containing his secret treats for later use onto the coffee table and knocking softly on the door, Lucas strode into the bedroom. Kissa stood in front of the window, back to him as she gazed out over the view and worked a brush through her long hair. The strands shimmered a rich ebony in the soft glow of the lamp on the nightstand. He let out the breath he didn’t realize he’d held and drank in the arresting sight she presented.

  The tight black pencil skirt, cut in the style she favored, cupped her curvy backside in a seductive fashion. He’d spent a small fortune on the perfect outfit for her, but he didn’t care one bit about the expense. His Kissa was worth it.

  She tilted her head, exposing her neck, as she continued to work her fingers through the length of her hair. He’d taste her in more ways than one tonight. He must have groaned out loud because she turned with startled speed and dropped the brush to the carpet.

  “It’s just me, chicken.” He tried to keep his voice light, even though he was certain some of his sexual hunger for her beautiful body still managed to come through. She stepped back a bit. The air sizzled between them. Licking his lips, he couldn’t wait to taste those pebbled nipples waiting underneath the silk. His cock felt heavy in his pants.

  He needed to slow down. Needed to get himself under control. The two weeks in London were for wooing and seduction, not hot, nasty sex. Although he’d be more than happy with some heat and fire as well. He wanted more, and he’d rein in his lust to prove it to her. He didn’t want to scare her off before he could give her the ring secreted away in his bags. Kissa needed convincing, and Lucas was not above using the magic of London at Christmastime and every sensual trick in his arsenal to get her.

  “Hi,” she said quietly, sliding her palms over the front of her skirt. “The outfit is really beautiful, Lucas. Thanks.”

  “I thought you’d enjoy a little something pretty for your first night in London. You look smashing. Merry Christmas.” He watched her lick her lips, painted a deep red, and bit back a groan. Taking a few more steps into the room, he leaned down and brushed a light kiss against her cheek. The exotic floral scent of her perfume instantly teased his senses.

  “So, this hotel room…?” She let the rest of the question linger in the air.

  “Mum’s was full because my sister and her husband and their kids came down from Lancastershire. We needed a place to stay, so here we are.” The excuse sounded lame to his own ears. She raised a brow at him in amusement.

  “And the only room you could get is in a five star hotel with a single king-sized bed overlooking the Thames?” Those gorgeous red lips beckoned to him.

  “Well, I figured since you hadn’t been home in a good long while, I would splurge and give us the best. I can sleep on the couch.”

  She took a step away from the window and moved closer to him. Placing a hand on his chest, she looked up into his face, her eyes dancing with amusement. Lucas lost his composure as he drank in her features. “I’m sure we’ll work something out.”

  She continued into the other room. He took a steading breath before following her out. The flirtatious way she made the comment gave him ideas. Rarely had Kissa acted like she was tonight.

  “Come.” He held out his arm and grinned. “We need to meet my family at Martin’s pub, and we shouldn’t be late.”

  Chapter Four

  The Duke’s Head was just what Kissa remembered a true English pub to be. Dark wood furnishings and rows upon rows of beer bottles lining the walls added to the ambience. Christmas twinkle lights decked the woodwork above the bar, and carols spilled forth from the sound system in the back. Lucas’s older brother, Martin, had closed the pub to the general public for the night, ensuring a private affair. Scattered around the interior, Lucas’s family ate, drank, and laughed. Sarah, his younger sister, was a gorgeous English rose with silvery blonde hair and crystal-blue eyes. Her husband, a handsome Scot by the name of Gerry, seemed to fill the space with his massive presence. Their three kids ran around playing darts and shooting pool in the back with Martin’s two teenage children. Topping off the menagerie Lucas called family was his younger brother, the baby of the group, Michael, a sweet twenty-five-year-old with a winning grin and an awkward way about him. Kissa wanted to hug him into a million pieces when he’d blushed every time she looked his way. Lucas clapped him on the shoulder with brotherly affection.

  She nursed the Black and Tan sitting in front of her on the long bar, not wanting to lose her wits around Lucas’s family. She’d rather die than embarrass him. Lucas laughed at something his mother said. With the same piercing blue eyes as Lucas, the woman was petite beside her hulking sons and husband. He met her gaze and grinned.

  “That all you’re drinking, love?” An arm went around her shoulders, and she turned to look up into the face of Lucas’s father, John. Kiss
a recognized instantly where Lucas received his dark hair, kissable lips, and glorious towering height. He was the spitting image, except for the salt-and-pepper hair and the lines that crinkled around the older man’s eyes. Kissa could easily see Lucas in his later years when she looked at his father.

  “I’m not much of a drinker, Mr. Slate.”

  “John, love, just call me John.” He beamed at her. “Are you enjoying our fair city? Lucas tells me you were born here.”

  “Yes, my mother is English. My sisters and I are Londoners.” She reached into her purse and searched for the family picture she always carried with her.

  “What about your father? Not an Englishman, I take it?”

  “No. Dad’s Egyptian”

  Kissa laughed as John looked at the picture in shock, his reaction pretty common when faced with the sight of the Nazir girls standing in a row. “Bloody hell! Lucas, why didn’t you tell me there are three like her running around?”

  Of course, the sight of their curvy bodies clad in traditional Egyptian cabaret costumes sometimes proved a surprise. The skintight spandex left little to the imagination.

  “We’re triplets. Obviously….” Kissa’s face heated as all the men crowded around John who now held the picture. “That was taken a few years ago at a belly-dancing festival in Boston where we performed.”

  “Who’s this bloke?” Lucas pointed to the darkly handsome man standing next to her with his arm wrapped around her waist. He was also clad in traditional Egyptian garb. Kissa stared at Lucas a moment, the obvious tension in his hands and mouth taking her by surprise. If she didn’t know any better, she would swear jealousy rested in his steely stare.

  “Hassan. My brother. He works in D.C. I’ve told you about him.”

  “Oh, yes. You’ve mentioned him. I don’t think I’ve ever seen his picture before, though.” Lucas speared her with a delicious glance, a wicked heat flashing in it. That same heat raced through her, and she had to place a palm on her cheek to combat it. The moment was broken when a niece dragged him to the pool room on the far side of the pub. He chuckled and followed the teen.

  “My son fancies you. But I don’t think I need to tell you that,” John whispered near her ear.

  “We’re just friends. The best of but only friends.” Kissa fidgeted in her stool, uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation.

  “We’ll see. I think you should rescue Lucas from his nephews and nieces.” John gestured toward the back room where the pool table stood. Lucas was six foot something and mostly consisted of granite and stubble, a woman’s seductive fantasy brought to life. Yet there he stood with his five-year-old nephew, Gavin, hanging on one leg and his seven-year-old niece, Katlyn, holding his hand. The two teenagers, Martha and Rory, belonging to Martin and his wife, stood to one side with pool sticks in hand, laughing at their uncle’s predicament.

  Kissa slid off her stool and walked to the pool room, her attention never leaving Lucas’s face. He looked so comfortable with the children. A clenching in her gut hit her hard and fast. He would make a wonderful father. Jealousy raced through her at the thought of another woman with him. Being the mother of his children. Her footsteps faltered as the unfamiliar emotions engulfed her. She shook her head to clear it from the train of thought. He looked up at her and smiled. The heat in her belly unfurled and threatened to consume her.

  She grinned at him before turning her attention to Rory and Martha.

  “Come on, kids, let’s kick your uncle’s butt.”

  ***

  Lucas couldn’t take much more of Kissa in her tight skirt and those wicked high heels shooting pool. He silently thanked God for the proximity of Rory and Martha. Having the children around enjoying the game helped to keep his libido in check. For the most part. They’d paired up boys against girls, and Lucas admitted she and Martha were kicking their collective asses.

  He watched as she bent down over the pool table, taking a moment to line up her shot. He wanted to stand behind her, his hands on those curvy hips, as she rubbed her gorgeous rear against him. Semihard from watching her all night, Lucas found the sounds of his family around him kept him at bay. Her top gaped open at the neck as she leaned a fraction farther over the table, her lacy black bra showcased by the deep V of her neckline. He swallowed hard and turned to stare at his nephew Rory. Sure enough, the seventeen-year-old’s gaze was glued to Kissa’s cleavage.

  Lucas moved over to Rory, clapping a palm on the boy’s shoulder. Rory’s attention flew to Lucas’s face. The boy blushed all the way down to his socks.

  Lucas leaned in close enough so only Rory could hear his comment. “Watch it, my boy, that woman’s going to be your aunt.”

  The teenager grinned. “Sorry, Uncle Lucas, I couldn’t help it. She looks like a black-haired Jessica Rabbit. I like her.”

  “That she does. I’m glad you like her but don’t say anything yet. I still have to ask her.”

  “What are you two up to over there? Plotting world domination?” Kissa asked as she straightened with one hand on her hip and the other still on her pool cue. “Not a thing, chicken. Just working out our next shot. Right, Rory?”

  Kissa winked at Martha “We don’t believe them, do we?”

  Martha giggled and bounced over to her, all teenager-gangly energy. Wrapping an arm around the girl’s shoulder, Kissa pulled her closer. Lucas felt his heart constrict. The thought of children with Kissa filled his mind with the most amazing images.

  “Why do you call her chicken, Uncle Lucas?” Martha asked, her voice so soft he almost didn’t hear the question. She was such a shy little thing.

  “Well, love, when Kissa and I went to an amusement park at home, she wouldn’t get on the big roller coaster with me. I teased her all day about being a chicken until she finally relented and got on.” Lucas found himself smiling at the memory.

  “And promptly threw up when we got off,” Kissa said with a laugh “Ever since then your uncle calls me his chicken.”

  Five years. He’d wasted five years because he’d let her stick him in the friend category and never let him out. The woman who made him want her so badly, he hurt. His aroused state wasn’t subsiding tonight unless he did something about it, and he certainly wasn’t about to have a wank in the WC of his brother’s pub. Looking at the pool table and then back to Kissa, tasty ideas began to form.

  Something had started to change since they’d arrived in London. Just as he’d hoped it would. Only a few hours into this adventure and Lucas could feel the subtle shift in the way she looked at him, spoke to him, and moved around him. He loved every minute of it. London and Christmas magic. He hoped.

  “Uncle Lucas, it’s your shot.” Martha wrapped an arm around Kissa’s waist. Kissa smiled down at the girl, pulling her into a playful hug.

  It pleased Lucas to no end his family had taken such a liking to her. Usually, Martha was slow to warm up to new people. Kissa seemed to bring the shy little thing out of her comfort zone. He’d rarely seen the teenager laugh so much as she did tonight.

  “So it is, then.”

  He moved to the pool table and assessed his shot. Paying attention to Kissa’s backside as she leaned over the table instead of the placement of the balls proved to be problematic.

  His girl carried the name Pool Shark as well as Goddess of Belly Dance.

  “I’m going for a drink. Miss Kissa, do you want something? Uncle Lucas?” Rory set his pool cue aside.

  “I’m fine. Still have my drink from earlier,” Kissa answered with a sweet smile. Lucas shook his head at his nephew’s offer and went back to surveying the pool table.

  Martha pulled herself from Kissa’s arms and followed her brother. The teenagers darted out of the room, full of energy, despite the late hour.

  Leaning over, he set up his shot. At the brush of fingertips down his spine, he glanced over his shoulder and met Kissa’s gaze, mere inches from him.

  “Jessica Rabbit, huh?” She winked at him before moving away, letting her f
ingertips trail over his shoulders. The lightest of touches. Her laughter floated around him, tickling along his nerve endings.

  “Heard that, did you? What have I told you about listening to other people’s conversations?” Electricity skittered around them, and Lucas straightened a bit, closing the distance between them even more. “You’re being naughty, chicken.”

  “I like your family a lot, Lucas. They’re great. I’m glad you talked me into coming.”

  “I am, too. I thought, perhaps, tomorrow we could play tourist a bit. See the British Museum and the British Library. I’d love to show you the Shakespeare folios they have on display. Blimey, they’re gorgeous,”

  “You’re such an English Lit nerd.”

  “I love the written word. Which happens to be one of the characteristics you love about me.”

  “Yeah, it is.” Kissa traced her fingertips along the pool table edge, belying her cool exterior. If he didn’t know better, he’d say his beautiful girl was nervous. He decided to test his thoughts and shifted a bit closer. He danced his index finger lightly over her knuckles. She shivered. Lucas swallowed back a grin.

  “Don’t we have to spend time with your family?” The husky quality of her voice tied him in knots. She leaned her hip against the table and watched him, those gray eyes blazing the light of the pub.

  “That’s true. But we only have to have dinner with them in the evening. We can head to Mum and Dad’s after the sightseeing. Want to play tourist with me, my lovely?”

  “Hmm, maybe,” she said, although the words sounded so much like a sigh, Lucas instantly began imagining what noises she made in the throes of passion.

  He paused long enough to take his shot, the balls clicking as he banked a red-striped one in the corner pocket. Lucas moved to set up his next shot, brushing against Kissa as he went. The light caress of her curves made his blood heat, and he fought to control his response to her. He didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of his family, especially his young nieces and nephews.