“Suit yourself, chicken. But I’m going.”
Something naughty flashed in those silver eyes, but whatever it was eluded him. He found himself entranced by this playful, flirty version of her, and he wanted more.
Rory slunk back into the room with a hangdog expression. “Dad says everyone is heading home. Time to close up.”
Lucas straightened and moved to replace his pool cue, a decadent idea forming in his fevered brain.
“Tell your father Kissa and I will lock up. Everyone can head home, and I’ll take care of the washing. Ask him to leave the spare key on the bar, and I’ll return it to him tomorrow at dinner.”
Being his older brother, and the one who’d taught him the ropes, Martin would instantly know Lucas’s plan and hurry everyone out the door.
“Okay. Nice to meet you, Miss Kissa.” Rory started for entrance, then returned to Lucas. He blushed a little and nervously looked toward Kissa.
“What’s the matter?” Lucas asked his nephew who shifted from foot to foot.
“Hug. But don’t tell anyone.”
Lucas laughed as he wrapped his arms around the teenager and squeezed him tight.
“I won’t say a word. Now off with you.”
Rory waved and scurried out the door.
“We’re going to do the lockup are we?” One inky eyebrow cocked at him in mild amusement.
“Yes, chicken, we are.”
Chapter Five
Lucas was up to something. Kissa could tell. Being alone in the pub with him was likely not the best way for her to control her growing hunger for him, but she didn’t have much choice in the matter. Nor did she seem to care.
She rested her butt on the pool table as she waited for him to come back from the main room. They’d finished washing the glasses and dishes from the evening and wiping down the tables and bar earlier. She’d kicked off her heels and swept the floor while Lucas checked some things in the storeroom. The jet lag was finally catching up to her, and she was ready to slip into the cool sheets on the queen-size bed and get some rest.
Lucas stepped back into the room and smiled at her. The gesture set her heart fluttering like she was some fictional character in a romance. Earlier, when they’d been playing pool, the sexual heat had ricocheted between them. If not for their two teenage companions and Lucas’s entire family just beyond in the outer room, Kissa would have captured his luscious mouth in a kiss when he’d started rubbing his fingertip over her knuckles. The small caress had sent her pulse racing in a way only Lucas could. Despite still being leery of moving past the friend stage with this man, she couldn’t stop her body’s reaction to him one iota.
She yawned and stretched her arms over her head. The sensation felt good as the muscles in her back elongated, releasing some of the tension.
“You look comfortable there, love.”
She drank him in. He leaned his tall body against the wooden door frame. He took her breath away. His black hair was mussed from running his hands through it all night long, lending him a rakish look. He’d pulled his shirt from the waistband of his trousers and rolled up the sleeves, exposing his forearms. She admitted to herself she’d always loved when her buttoned-up professor got a little messy.
“How do the coeds concentrate around you, Dr. Slate?”
“I’m just their stuffy old English professor. I bore them to tears with tales of Chaucer, Moliere, and Shaw.”
“Oh, I bet a few concentrate more on your broad shoulders than on Shakespeare’s broad prose.” He did have such wonderfully wide-set shoulders and a muscular chest. He ran in the evenings and lifted weights to keep in shape, constantly complaining he didn’t want to turn into a “flabby academic” with a potbelly and a bad comb-over.
“I’m not certain of that. Old Will was a naughty boy, and his words could entice even the staunchest of maids.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her playfully.
“I doubt many of those girls are staunch or maids.”
“Maids, in modesty, say ‘no’ to that which they would have the profferer construe ‘ay.’”
A giggle threatened to escape her at his words. She licked her lips and contemplated her next move.
“Do you mean you like to tease them with wicked words?”
“No, chicken. You know me better than that. I don’t touch the young nubiles. I prefer my ladies old enough to appreciate the gray at my temples.”
“I like the gray in your hair. It’s just a light dusting.”
“One of the reasons I keep you around. And you let me commandeer the remote when I come over for movie night.”
“Except when you want to watch all the Jason Bourne movies in one sitting. Even I won’t let you play couch commando for that.” She laughed.
A wicked idea came to her. Lifting one stockinged foot a bit off the floor, she looked at him and put on her best pout.
“My feet are tired from all the standing in high heels. This is my vacation. You should pamper me.”
“It’s my vacation, too. When do I get pampered?”
“We’ll work something out,” she said, parroting her words from earlier. “I might not be able to walk back to the hotel.”
“We can’t have that now, can we?” From the expression on his face, she knew he didn’t buy it for a moment, but was willing to play along. He pushed himself off the door frame and came to stand in front of her. “Only if you return the favor at some point, say, like going to the library with me.”
As if she would deny him the request or anything else he asked. And he knew it, too.
He cupped her hip gently, the touch sending tingles down her body. She lifted her face to his and waited.
“Up with you now.” His voice was husky, the barest whisper in the otherwise-silent room as he wrapped his arm around her waist and lifted her onto the edge of the pool table. Holding her gaze, he slid a palm down her thigh, tickling over her knee.
He moved his hand back up her leg with subtle slowness. Her breathing quickened as he skated his long fingers along her calf, up her knee, and came to rest just below the hem of her skirt.
“This would feel much better if we removed your stockings.” He gently caressed her thigh in a small, circular motion underneath the skirt’s hem.
“Perhaps you’re right.” She reached down to pinch a smidge of the material in her fingers. Not looking away, she slowly began bunching the skirt up, exposing more and more of her thigh to his touch.
Needing no other prompting, Lucas followed the path she exposed until he reached the lace top of her thigh-high. Curling his index finger under the stocking, he peeled it down. Kissa’s pulse raced at his touch so close to her sex. Briefly, she wondered what he would do if she asked him to move his palm even farther up and give her some release from this need he’d created in her.
“Other side, too, chicken.”
She obligingly held out her leg as he set to work removing her remaining stocking.
He tucked her thigh-highs into the pocket of his jeans before stroking the skin he’d exposed. He met her gaze and leaned in, nuzzling her neck with his lips.
“‘Thou art the object and the pleasure of mine eye.’” His hot breath tickled her skin and sent a shiver down her spine. Titling her head, she offered him greater access.
“What are you up to, Professor?”
“Seducing you with words, chicken.”
He skimmed his hands up to her waist and rested them on her hips. With a gentle tug, he pulled her closer to him, her rear teetering on the edge of the pool table. She braced her palms on his shoulders to steady herself.
“Is this the best idea, Lucas?”
He pressed a kiss against her neck and swirled his tongue along the same spot before lifting his head to speak. His blue eyes darkened to a deep sea of color.
“Yes. This is the best idea I’ve had in a great while.”
“What about our friendship?”
He said nothing, but kissed the soft skin just under her ear again, enjoying
her in-drawn breath. With subtle grace, he moved his palms down to her knees and gently nudged them apart. He captured her lips in a soft, lush kiss as he caressed her bare thighs.
Kissing Kissa was only the first step in his plans for her this evening. He wanted her breathless before the next part of his game. Turned out, it didn’t take him very long to get her in that very state, or himself for that matter. Kissa clutched at his biceps, silently letting him know how eager she had become for his touch. He was breaking through the tough veneer of strictly friendship, and it thrilled him to the core.
Her breathing hitched when he slipped his hand between her thighs. So near to her heat.
“Move closer to me, love,” he said, stroking her soft curls with his index finger.
“Lucas, we shouldn’t….” Her words trailed off into a breathy whimper as he began to explore. She was so soft. So wet. It was almost more than he could bear.
“We should, we have to. I have to,” he murmured against her neck before pushing aside the small strip of silk covering her and slowly tracing the tip of his finger along of the lips of her pussy.
“This is a mistake.”
“No, love, it most certainly is not.”
With a moan she slid forward on the table and opened her thighs wider. He grinned against her neck and slipped a digit deep between her folds.
She whimpered, the sound carrying in the stillness of the air and making him dizzy with anticipation. A second finger joined the other and he curved them slightly, probing for her G-spot. Her deep groan of pleasure told him he’d located what he sought. He rubbed gently, and her muscles clenched around him.
“Yes…” Her head fell back, and she began to quiver.
Lucas drank her. Her ebony hair spilled all around her shoulders, her full lips were parted with desire. Her lids fluttered over stormy-gray eyes. His prim and proper girl had turned wanton siren.
Sliding his free hand up her body, he cupped her breast, kneading the lush mound until her nipple peaked against the silk of her blouse.
“More. Come for me, Kissa.”
Her body arched, her bottom almost coming completely off the table, and she cried out his name as her climax ripped through her. He worked her body until the spasms slowed.
“Lucas,” she whispered. Her breasts rose and fell as she fought to regain her breath. She licked her lips and opened her eyes, their quicksilver depths seeming to memorize his face.
When he knew she was finally fully back with him, he slipped his fingers from her body. Capturing her gaze, he lifted the digits to his lips and sucked on them as she watched. Heat flared in her eyes, and he almost smiled.
“Delicious. Next time I want more than a little taste of you.”
Kissa sat frozen on the edge of the billiard table, her thighs spread wide, her skirt brunched up around her hips, and breathing still a bit ragged.
“Come on, darling. Back to the hotel with you. Your jet lag must be killing you.” He lifted her from the table and placed her feet on the floor but not before letting her curves rub against his larger frame. “On with your shoes now.”
Lucas tried hard not to look like a satisfied cat at the expression on her beautiful face. She appeared confused and disheveled and thoroughly sexy. It made his manly pride, as well as other parts of him, swell.
He walked to the door and turned back. Kissa stood in the same spot he’d planted her only moments ago. He lifted her panties in his hand and grinned at her.
“I’ll keep these for now.” He slipped them into his jeans pocket. Her eyes followed his action, but she still said nothing.
“Come on, chicken, time for bed.”
Chapter Six
Kissa was almost completely unaware of how they’d gotten back to the hotel. At some point, she’d pulled on her coat and Lucas hustled her out of the pub after locking up. She barely remembered crawling into the huge bed in the adjoining room, while he opted for the sofa in the setting room. But sleep had taken its time claiming her as images of his gorgeous face hovered in her thoughts and her body still hummed from his fingers inside her, filling her. In fact, her traitorous body demanded more from her best friend.
They’d hardly spoken a word to each other on the cab ride over. The silence didn’t stop Lucas from caressing his thumb over the inside of her wrist. It hadn’t stopped him from tracing an index finger down her arm or placing his palm on the small of her back when he guided her toward the elevator. They hadn’t needed words..
Kissa rolled over and buried her head in the pillow with a confused sigh. She did not want to deal with the light of day because she knew questions would arise she really didn’t have the answers to. Last night on the pool table in the back of the darkened, silent pub, she’d let herself go and gave into the desire for Lucas in a way she’d trained herself not to over the years. She might fantasize about him in the safety of her dreams, but never had she thought for one minute they would cross over to reality.
A tapping at the door separating the bedroom from the sitting room broke through her solitude.
“Are you awake, chicken? It’s time to get moving.”
She edged her way into a seated position, wrapping the comforter around her body in an effort to cocoon herself from view.
“I’m awake,” she answered, her voice hoarse from morning disuse.
The door cracked open, and Lucas stepped in. Dressed in gray slacks and a black tight-knit sweater, he embodied the epitome of classic Londoner. His black hair was slicked back a bit and glistened in the light flooding in from the window on the far wall. He must have snuck past her while she slept and showered early. His wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, highlighting his deep blue eyes.
“Lucas.” She wasn’t sure how to start the conversation they needed to have. She never had trouble talking to him before, but after having his fingers buried deep inside her as she screamed out an orgasm while fully clothed on a pool table, she was out of sorts on how to proceed.
“Don’t. I know what’s going on in that head of yours, and I’d rather not deal with the analytical Kissa this morning.” He pushed himself fully into the room and slid onto the side of the bed near her, his body heat seeping through the thick comforter and warming her like the soft, hot caress of his hands the night before.
“But, Lucas, we did things last night that best friends don’t normally do.” She pushed her hair off her face and sat up a bit more, her back resting against the wooden headboard.
“Kissa, why don’t we enjoy the holiday”—he leaned forward and cupped her chin, lifting her eyes to meet his—“and each other. We’ll deal with the harsh reality when we return to Columbus.” He moved the pad of his thumb over her lips, his eyes fixated there as if he wanted to kiss her.
“I’m not looking for a relationship.” The words left her mouth before she could stop herself. Deep down it wasn’t true. If Lucas so much as crooked his little finger at her to exit the friend zone, she’d be his in a New York minute.
“Well, neither am I,” he said before turning away and looking out the window at the gray London morning. She felt a rush of disappointment, but she had no one to blame for it but herself.
“Doesn’t mean we can’t follow our natural impulses.”
“I guess not.” She licked her lips and sighed, the sound ridiculously soft in the still air. One touch from him and she’d turned to mush. He shifted back to her and leaned forward, brushing her lips with a gentle kiss. “I’m not sure, Lucas. What if we play this game with each other and when get home everything is ruined?”
“How can it be ruined? We’ve been in each other’s lives for so long I can’t imagine mine without you.” He stroked her cheek. “Even if we decide to slip back into where we were before last night.”
“I’m not sure I can handle this type of situation.”
“Go take a shower and get dressed. I’ll take you for some breakfast, and we’ll play tourist,” he murmured against her mouth.
She barely nodded,
unwilling to break the connection between their lips. His felt so very good, so very right next to hers. To hell with the right and wrong of the situation, what she wanted more than anything in that moment was a mere gentle swipe of lips. She wanted it all. Now she just had to figure out how to convince Lucas of the same thing.
“If we’re playing Christmastime make-believe, why don’t you give me a proper good-morning kiss?”
She felt his intake of breath, almost as if she’d shocked him with her saucy request. A giggle bubbled up inside her. She loved keeping Lucas on his toes. Moving herself just a bit closer, she erased the space between them and firmly slanted her mouth against his.
Someone let out a soft sigh. A second later, she realized that someone had been her. Lucas groaned low in his throat and used the tip of his tongue to wet the seam of her mouth, begging for more than just a simple kiss. With a mew of pleasure, she parted her lips and sucked his tongue gently into her mouth. He wrapped one hand around her waist, pushing the comforter away from her body as he pulled her closer. The fire that was there the previous night came roaring back.
Kissa slid a palm up his arm, enjoying the flex of his muscles beneath her fingers, the soft knit of his sweater the only barrier to skin-on-skin. Draping her arm around his neck, she used her fingers to toy with the hair resting against his collar. A few more moments of delicious torture continued with Kissa inching ever closer to Lucas in an effort to get as close to him as humanly possible. With a frustrated groan, he pulled away from her, putting a few inches of cool morning air between their heated bodies. She felt the loss of his lips keenly.
“Go. Take your shower. We can continue this later,” Lucas said, brushing one final kiss to her mouth. Moving away from her even more, he rested his hands on his long legs and stared out the bedroom window.
Kissa Under the Mistletoe Page 3
