The Boss's Mistletoe Maneuvers
“Open mouths, damp, darting tongues, breathlessness. There was nothing patient about their need. This wasn’t going to be a night of foreplay and tender exploration. They were too excited.
Kim savored the burn of Monroe’s closeness, drank him in with each kiss, bite and scratch of her fingernails across the fabric of his shirt. The lid was off the pressure cooker, and she was savage, desirous, anxious for everything he had to give, anxious to find out if it would be enough to permanently keep the ghosts of Christmas past at bay.
In between deep kisses, he gave her time to breathe and searched her face. Their bodies were pressed tightly together, his stretched out on top of hers. His hands were in her hair, on her cheeks, feathering over her neck. Trails of kisses followed each touch of his fingers.
Kim thought she might go mad with her need for him. Her body molded to his, their hips meeting in all the right places as if their bodies were a perfect match.
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