Mistletoe Season by Michelle Major

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

MINE.

The word haunted Gabe for the rest of the night. He’d kissed Angi under the mistletoe at his grandmother’s urging after he’d spent the better part of the week resisting the desire to do just that.

Every time he was near Angi, he wanted to draw her into his arms. So many things made her irresistible to him—her beauty and the way she cared so much for the people around her. The scent of citurs that enveloped her like a warm, sunny day.

The kiss shouldn’t have meant anything. They were pretending to date. Did that kind of public display of affection even count? It was mistletoe, after all. But pressing his mouth to hers after so many instances of holding himself back had felt like coming home.

How was it possible that after holding on to resentment for most of his adult life—the sting of how she’d turned on him when their friendship had meant the world to him—now it was as if all of the years had disappeared? He was back to where he’d started. Gabe a lovesick schoolboy and Angi the bright star of whirling activity shining her light on everyone she met.

But they weren’t kids anymore, and he’d do well to remember that. Whatever their connection, he had no doubt she’d sever the cord once the holidays were over and she no longer needed him as a diversion. It made his heart ache, which made him feel like the biggest fool on the planet.

Tonight had been the first time he’d seen Andrew since the day the kid had gotten in a fight at school. Gabe hated to admit how much he missed the boy’s chatty presence at the shop in the afternoon, the way Andrew’s energy was so similar to his mother’s. Angi hadn’t talked any more about the incident or asked what exactly Gabe’s lessons to her son entailed. Her silence spoke volumes. He wanted to ask, but it wasn’t his business. A stark reminder that their relationship was just for show.

Still, she’d helped him in the shop, and, without even telling him, she’d gone to the nursing home to make his grandmother feel special with the mini spa day. How was he supposed to resist that kind of inherent sweetness?

He’d hoped to have a few minutes alone with her after the event ended, but she’d kept herself busy and made sure there were always people around them. The other business owners were ecstatic at the turnout, and he’d heard lots of talk about anticipation for the upcoming dance. He’d made sure to stay in the background as Angi received the praise she deserved, and he hoped this shot of confidence would make her see her true worth.

The doorbell rang, and his gaze flicked to the clock on the cable box that sat below the TV. Two minutes to midnight. He couldn’t imagine who would be at his grandmother’s door at this hour, but he got up and padded down the hall.

There were plenty of places he’d been in the world where he wouldn’t dare open his door without confirming who stood on the other side.

Magnolia wasn’t one of those.

Still, his heart seemed to pummel his rib cage as he took in Angi standing on his porch. She’d changed out of the navy sweater dress she’d worn to the shopping night. The one that had smoothed over her gentle curves and dipped in the front, revealing only a modest amount of skin but managing to take his breath away just the same.

Yet here she was in a pair of baggy camo print leggings and an overlarge sweater with the words Good Vibes Only stitched across the front, her dark hair piled into a messy bun on the top of her head. His breath hitched in that familiar way. He didn’t think his reaction to her would ever change.

“Were you asleep?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest like she was gearing up for an assault.

He shook his head. “Watching an old movie.”

She rose on tiptoe to glance past him into the house. “What movie?”

“Die Hard.”He ran a hand through his hair. “It’s a Christmas movie.”

Her mouth twitched. “Yippee-Ki-Yay.”

Just the hint of her smile could melt his heart. “Is something wrong?”

“No. Can I come in?” She looked ten kinds of uncomfortable making the request, and he realized he was showing a subtle lack of manners by leaving her standing there in the first place.

“It’s nearly midnight,” he said, but stepped back to allow her to enter.

She looked at that oversize watch she always wore. “A minute past now. I’ve never been in your grandma’s house.”

He flipped on the hall light he hadn’t bothered with when answering the door. Standing in the intimacy of a darkened house with Angi might be too much of a temptation, even for Gabe.

But the light didn’t help at all because she was so close that he could see the smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose and a bit of white powder—flour, he guessed—near her jawline.

His fingers itched to brush it off, but he kept his hands to himself.

Mine.

The word ricocheted through him again, but he ignored it.

Angi Guilardi did not belong to Gabe.

“Do you want a drink?” he asked, because that’s what people did when a guest arrived.

“No, thanks.” She followed him down the hall and into the cozy den situated off the kitchen. His grandmother’s house had been built in the 1940s and had the small, choppy rooms indicative of architecture in that decade. In the months he’d spent living there, Gabe had come up with an imaginary plan for updating the house that involved knocking out walls and redoing the plumbing and electrical.

Ridiculous musings because the house didn’t belong to him. Not to mention that it would be easier and probably less expensive to buy something that was more in line with his taste anyway. Gran’s decorating style consisted mainly of floral wallpaper and delicate lace doilies covering every surface.

Still, if he had the opportunity, he’d make this house his own. It was the only place that had ever felt like home to him. Plus, the greenhouse and gardens out back were incredible.

The television glowed blue in the darkness and then burst into a bright yellow shine when Bruce Willis blew up something.

Gabe reached for the lamp on the side table, but Angi’s hand on his arm stilled his movement. “Leave it,” she said, then took a seat on the sofa, patting the cushion next to her. “I haven’t seen this movie in ages. Look at how handsome he was back in the day.”

Unsure what to make of her appearance at his house, like they were old friends who’d made a plan to hang out in the wee hours of the night, Gabe lowered himself next to her, careful their bodies didn’t touch.

He’d learned plenty about self-discipline during his years in the military, but even he had his limits.

They watched the movie in silence for several minutes, but Gabe wasn’t paying a bit of attention. He was hyperaware of Angi next to him...her heat, the scent of citrus, and the soft rhythm of her breathing. Without trying, he matched his breath to hers. Slowly his heart stopped feeling as though it was attempting to fling itself out of his body.

Maybe this was what normal people did.

“I’m supposed to be here tonight,” Angi said during a lull in the action.

He kept his gaze on the TV. “Yeah?”

“When we finished downtown, I had to go to the inn and prep food for a bridal shower tomorrow,” she explained. “My mom thinks I leave at night to come over here.”

“How often does that happen?” It wasn’t exactly a surprise. She’d told him that part of the benefit of a fake relationship for her was to have an excuse to work on the Wildflower Inn events without drawing suspicion.

“Three nights this week.” She shifted, tapping a finger on the top of her thigh.

He commanded himself not to look at her shapely leg. Not to think about having her wrapped around him, heat and desire. No desire. Desire was bad.

“No wonder you’re exhausted,” he said, and now he did look at her. “Wait. Did you come over here for another foot massage?”

Out of the corner of her eye, he saw her shake her head. And he waited. There was something more. The air around them crackled with anticipation, like a tree in the early-morning hours of Christmas before even the most dedicated of children had woken from their fitful dreams.

“The kiss in the shop tonight...”

His breath hitched. She was going to tell him to keep his grubby paws to himself or at the very least to limit their public displays to a few perfunctory kisses that would make people believe the ruse. He’d had no right to—

“I liked it,” she continued. “Probably more than I should have.”

“Is there a limit on how much a person can like a kiss?”

She turned to him with a soft laugh. “It felt like you liked it, too.”

“Yep.” He kept his eyes glued to the television.

Anticipation infused his veins with a heat he couldn’t deny. He thought that if he allowed himself to look at Angi in this moment he might actually burst into flames of need.

“I guess I’m here because I was wondering if you’d like to do it again, more even.”

Now he couldn’t resist shifting to face her. “More?”

“You know,” she insisted. “Doing more, only with fewer clothes.”

“Does this have anything to do with proving something to your mother?”

Angi made a face so disgusted he almost laughed. “Lord, no. The stuff I want to do with you...” Her voice grew husky. “To you...has nothing to do with anyone except us.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not a sicko.”

He chuckled even as a voice inside his desire-addled brain gave the imperative command to shut the hell up. “I mean, why do you want more than what it will take to keep people convinced that we’re an actual couple?”

Her gaze dropped to her lap. “I just... I like you.”

Well, as declarations of desire went, it was fairly simple, but it made Gabe feel like he’d just won the lottery. He shouldn’t care if Angi Guilardi liked him. He’d gotten over his silly crush on her years ago.

But it mattered. She mattered.

“It would only be for now,” she added quickly. “During our arrangement. I don’t expect... There are no expectations beyond what we’ve already agreed upon. I just thought—”

He leaned in and claimed her mouth, giving some of that frenzied need an outlet for escape before it burned him to ashes. “No more thinking,” he murmured against her lips, and she seemed more than happy to oblige.

There was none of the hesitancy he’d felt from her when they had an audience. She met him stroke for stroke, her elegant fingers raking through his hair and pulling him even closer. Pulling him down as she lowered herself to the sofa.

SHOWINGUPATGabe’s house might have been the best decision Angi had made in months. Chances were she’d regret it tomorrow morning. But morning seemed like a long, distant, faraway place.

What mattered now was the moment and the way her body was zinging to life with every kiss, every touch of his hands. She needed something to take her mind off all the things weighing on her, and trading those worries for the comforting weight of Gabe’s body over hers was the best way she could think of to achieve just that.

No more thinking.

Just the moment.

He slid one hand up and under her shirt as he trailed kisses along her jaw. To her surprise, Gabe was a talker, and she loved the little murmurs about her beauty and what she made him feel that accompanied his attention to her body.

She trailed her fingers over his broad shoulders and the muscled planes of his back, but it wasn’t enough. The thin fabric of his shirt and her sweater suddenly felt like ten layers of fabric and she wanted more of him. Needed his warmth to heat all her cold, forgotten parts.

As soon as she tugged on the hem of his shirt, he levered himself off her and yanked it over his head. Oh, yes. That was much better. The muscles of his arms bunched as he held himself over her once more. She’d known he was fit and had guessed at his muscled physique, but seeing it with her own eyes made her limbs grow heavy with desire.

His mouth quirked at one end, and at the same time his cheeks colored a brilliant shade of pink.

“You’re blushing,” she told him, using her elbows to prop herself up on the cushion behind her.

“I don’t think anyone has ever looked at me the way you are.” His grin widened. “I like it.”

Maybe Angi should feel embarrassed that she’d been caught ogling him, but at this point she could not have cared less. She might not be the most confident in her life choices, but she was no shrinking violet. It had been a long time since she’d been with a man, and she couldn’t remember ever wanting someone the way she did Gabe.

There was no apology or shame in that desire, and she knew he was telling the truth. He liked her asserting control, and she liked him even more for that.

She pulled off the sweater, leaving her in just the simple black bra she wore under it. If she’d planned better, she’d be wearing some lacy confection meant to entice her partner, but by the intensity of Gabe’s gaze on hers, he was plenty enticed.

He moved toward her again slowly, like he wasn’t sure if he would scare her away.

But her fear had been drowned out by desire and had no place in what was between them now. He trailed kisses along the length of her neck, and she moaned low in her throat when his hands cupped her breasts, thumbs grazing over the hard nipples. Her head fell back against the cushion. It took too much strength to hold it up. Strength she was using to keep herself in check so she didn’t fall over the edge from just the simple touch of his hands on her breasts.

Clearly, she was more desperate than she’d even realized.

Or maybe it was Gabe and the way he seemed to intrinsically know how to touch her in a way that made her want to writhe with pleasure. She tried—and mostly failed—to stay patient and let him go slow with her.

A part of her appreciated that he seemed content to take his time. Slowly drawing his tongue across her bare skin before peeling the bra strap down her arm and drawing one hardened peak into his mouth. His tongue swirled around her and her core pulsed with need.

Now, she wanted to shout. More. Right now.

But she was no green girl, and she’d had enough subpar experiences with the opposite sex to savor a man who knew what he was doing.

He was still talking, more to himself than her, she thought. Words of praise and explicit whispers of what he wanted to do to her. With her.

She was a big heck yes to all of it.

“This couch is too narrow,” he said suddenly, and she wanted to protest aloud when he released her.

Apparently, she waited too long to answer, because Gabe took her hands, pulled her up off the couch and then lifted her into his arms. He kissed her as he moved, and it was a wonder he didn’t trip over anything.

“I can walk,” she told him, tearing her mouth from his as he started up the stairs. Angi was tall and solid, not in any way the kind of woman men carried around like some kind of romance novel heroine of old.

“If you think I’m letting you go now,” Gabe said, taking the stairs two at a time like he hefted women into his arms all the time, “you haven’t been paying attention to the last few minutes.”

“I was distracted,” she said, and leaned in to nibble on his ear.

He let out a hoarse grunt and wrapped his arms more tightly around her.

She liked being held by him way too much.

The hallway was dim, lit by a flickering night-light at the end of the hall, but she could make out some kind of floral-pattern wallpaper, and the scent of baby powder and butterscotch hung in the air. It reminded her that this wasn’t his house. It belonged to his grandmother, and Gabe was here temporarily.

That should have made her feel better. She’d told him she wanted something temporary. Somehow, the thought dimmed the light glowing inside her ever so slightly.

Gabe paused just inside the bedroom door. “Are you okay?” he asked, shifting her so she had no choice but to meet his gaze. Angi hated the flicker of doubt she saw there. Hated that he could probably see the same thing reflected in her eyes.

She blinked it away and kissed him again, letting his spicy scent remind her of why she wanted this. But it wasn’t just his smell or the heat of his body enveloping her. It was Gabe and the fact that he could pick up on the slightest nuance of her emotions. And that he would pause—and stop if she needed him to—to ask her about it. To make sure she was still with him.

That made her all in with him.

“I’ll be better when we’re both naked,” she said, letting the need rise to the surface again.

The look of outright adoration that flashed in his gaze made a shiver pass through her.

He drew back the comforter and sheets and lowered her to the bed. What in the world was wrong with Angi that the fact that he made his bed meant something to her? In truth, too many things involving Gabe meant something. As he straightened to unbutton his jeans, she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her leggings and pushed them down over her hips.

His stormy hazel gaze never left hers as he stripped off the jeans along with the boxers, putting the evidence of how much he wanted her on full display. The way her core seemed to ache in response had her breath catching in her throat.

He took a condom wrapper from his wallet and tossed it onto the nightstand. She automatically lifted her arms as he bent toward her, wanting to draw him closer. Needing his weight on top of her like she was a ribbon in a hurricane-force wind and he was the anchor that could tether her to this moment.

He kissed her—or she kissed him—it was difficult to say who led this charge. All she knew was she was ready to lose herself, and she knew without a doubt that she could hurtle over the edge and Gabe wouldn’t let her fall.

She ran her fingernails along the taut muscles of his back, and he groaned in response. His calloused palm smoothed a path down the length of her and then up again until one clever finger dipped into her center.

“Yes,” she said on a small cry and then pressed her lips together, embarrassed at the need in her voice.

Gabe, who was trailing wet kisses along her throat, lifted his head. His hand stilled, making her want to groan out a protest. “Don’t stop,” he urged, his voice rough with desire. “Tell me what you want, Ang.”

“You seem to know what to do,” she answered. “More of that.”

His mouth quirked. “Tell me anyway. I want to hear it from you, sweetheart. I want to give you exactly what you need.”

She squeezed shut her eyes when tears threatened. So silly to get emotional at a time like this. But when was the last time anyone had given her total control? When someone in her life had been completely focused on her needs and wants?

She couldn’t remember ever feeling so powerful.

It gave her the freedom to do exactly what he asked. In murmured commands she told him how she wanted to be touched. She set the pace—more, yes, there, faster—and Gabe seemed eager to obey.

He drove her to the edge of reason and then over to a release more powerful than anything she’d ever felt. And just as she expected, he was there to catch her, holding her steady and pressing his mouth to hers as if he wanted to capture every one of her moans.

Then he ripped open the condom wrapper, but she covered his hand, plucking the condom from his fingers and wrapping her other hand around his length. She stroked it once, twice, and felt a tremble shiver through him as his head dropped to her shoulder.

“We’re not going to get to the good stuff if you keep that up,” he told her, his voice raw.

She liked that she had that effect on him.

“It’s all good,” she said. She rolled the condom onto him and then pushed him onto his back, straddling his lean hips.

He looked up at her with those stormy eyes, and she lifted herself enough to take him inside her. He was a perfect fit.

They began to move together, and it felt better than anything she could have imagined. His thumbs grazed over her nipples again, driving her wild with need.

It could have been minutes or hours as she lost herself in the way this man made her feel.

She tumbled into another release, stars exploding behind her eyes. Gabe’s hips bucked again as pleasure claimed him. Then he wrapped his arms around her and whispered her name like it was the most beautiful word he’d ever heard.

Angi wasn’t sure what came next, but she curled into his embrace while he placed gentle kisses on her head like she was precious to him. She understood that whatever was between them would change her—had changed her. From this moment on, Angi would never be the same.