Mistletoe Mischief (Romancing Wisconsin #1) by Stacey Joy Netzel

Author:Stacey Joy Netzel [Netzel, Stacey Joy]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Stacey Joy Netzel
Published: 2012-09-13T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

Marissa wouldn’t have thought it possible, but his low-voiced statement made her pulse race even faster. He was going to kiss her again. She wanted his mouth on hers more than she’d wanted anything in a very long time.

A sudden attack of nervousness made her glance out the window in the gathering darkness toward the back of the yard where the girls still played. Beams of light filtered through the thick foliage concealing the tree house windows.

“They’re fine,” Eric assured her, mistakenly guessing the reason for her hesitation. She didn’t correct him. He threaded his calloused fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck. Tingles radiated down her spine from his warm touch.

Marissa cleared her throat and met his eyes once more. “Um, as a general rule, I don’t kiss on the first date.”

A smile appeared, slow and sexy. “Then we’re in luck, because this sure as heck isn’t a first date. It’s more like an extended, recovering disaster of a first meeting.”

Instead of the prolonged anticipation of his kiss increasing her anxiety, her tension eased with his teasing observation. She pretended to think about his description while his fingers gently massaged her neck. After a few seconds, she shook her head with a soft smile of false regret. “Unfortunately, I don’t kiss on those, either.”

His eyes narrowed. His smile remained, but he dropped his hand and pulled something from his pocket. “Good thing I’ve got a trump card.”

She frowned at his handful of mangled, dark leaves until a holly berry identified the foliage as the mistletoe from the zoo. Laughter bubbled up inside her. “Oh my God, you stole Butch’s mistletoe!”

“I didn’t steal anything,” Eric denied. “Santa gave me an early Christmas gift.”

“Yeah, sure,” she teased.

“First I’m a jerk, now I’m a thief and a liar?” he challenged.

“I didn’t say that!”

“Butch gave me the mistletoe right after he suggested I drive you home.”

Marissa glanced up at the mistletoe in his hand. The wonderful little leaves conjured the vivid memory of Eric’s warm mouth on hers and erased her smiling doubt. She reached up to take the mistletoe from his grasp and twirled it between her thumb and forefinger. Resting her forearm on his shoulder while his hands settled on her hips, she stepped close and flattened her other hand against his chest. His heartbeat thundered beneath her fingers. She slid them up over his T-shirt to link with her other arm around his neck.

Their bodies made full contact; thighs, hips, chests. His eyes darkened to slate gray, and heat jolted straight to her core.

“Soo…what is it that you said in the golf cart?” she whispered in breathless anticipation.

His head lowered. “Mistletoe rules.”

“And I remember something about it’s bad luck if we don’t kiss under the mistletoe?”

He leaned closer, his breath brushing her lips. “Very bad.”

“Who made up that rule?”

His gaze locked on hers. “Seriously? You want that story now?”

She grinned and shook her head, then closed her eyes at the exact moment his lips met hers.

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