Chapter 13
Noel
She’s looking at me like she wants to eat me alive, and honestly, I am so fucking here for it.
This woman is magic.
Pure, unadulterated magic.
My cock grows thick and hard under her perusal, and fuck me, I’m not coming again without feeling her tight little pussy clenching around me.
“Come here.”
I drag her down to me, her naked sex glides over me and it’s all I can do to not slip inside her right then and there.
“Fuck, Tinsel, you’re so goddamn hot for it, aren’t you?”
She mewls and arches with a broken gasp, her fingers tangling in my hair like she’s holding on for dear life as I lick my way from her mouth to her fantastic tits.
I pull on whatever clothing remains between us, getting both of us naked is tantamount as I move us over to the rug by the fireplace.
I groan around her nipple, savoring the way she squirms beneath me, then move to give the other breast equal attention—kissing, licking, biting just enough to make her gasp again.
“Need you. Hurry, Noel,” she whispers, her voice wrecked and needy. “Please.”
I lift my head, meeting her eyes—glassy, blown wide with want, her lips kiss-swollen and parted.
She’s everything.
Laid out in front of me, firelight flickering across her skin like some kind of miracle I don’t deserve.
And I want to worship every inch of her.
“You sure?” I rasp, because I have to ask—even if every cell in my body is begging to bury myself inside her.
Her hands slide down to grip my hips. “I want you. Now.”
That’s all I need.
I kiss her again—deep, claiming—while I slide the condom on, then grip her thighs and spread them wider, settling between them.
My cock drags against her slick heat, and I nearly lose it right there.
“Fuck, you’re so hot, so wet,” I groan. “So ready for me.”
She moans, hips lifting. “Then stop teasing and fuck me already.”
“Anything you want, Tinsel. You just gotta ask.”
Then, I sink in slow—inch by aching inch—and her body clenches around me, hot and tight and perfect.
Her head falls back, a strangled sound slipping from her throat.
“Jesus, Holly,” I growl. “You feel so fucking incredible.”
She wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me deeper, gasping as I bottom out.
“Noel!”
I move slow at first.
Not because I want to.
Because I have to.
She’s so tight, so warm, so perfect around me, my body nearly goes off the rails just from the feel of her.
But I hold on—barely—letting her adjust, letting us adjust to this moment. Because it’s not just sex. It’s something else.
Something bigger.
Something that feels like it was written in the damn stars.
And the way she moves? The way her mouth parts on a moan, how her hands roam down my back like she’s trying to memorize the shape of me?
It wrecks me.
She bites her lip, arches into me, eyes fluttering shut like she’s losing herself—and I want her lost in me.
I want to be the only thing she thinks about, the only thing she feels.
But then she gasps, clutches at me with both hands, and her voice breaks on my name.
“More,” she pants. “Gimme more, please, Noel—”
That’s it. That’s the moment I lose it.
Control snaps like a live wire in a storm.
White-hot. Immediate.
I drive into her harder, deeper, setting a rhythm that’s as much desperation as it is hunger.
Every thrust earns a sound—those sweet, broken gasps that curl in my gut and set my pulse pounding.
She’s not just taking it. She’s meeting me. Pushing back. Rising to meet every snap of my hips with her own, like we were built to fit, to burn together.
And, fuck me, she’s sin and sugar. Fire and heaven.
Nothing has ever felt like this.
I growl low in my throat, my hand sliding under her thigh to angle her just right, and she whimpers like I just broke her open.
I need more.
Need all of her.
“Look at me,” I grit out, voice harsh with need.
Her lashes flutter open. Her eyes lock with mine—wide, glassy, filled with something that looks a hell of a lot like everything I never thought I’d get to have.
“Say it,” I whisper, thrusting deep. “You’re mine now, Holly. Say it.”
She trembles. Her lips part.
“I’m yours,” she breathes. “Right now, I’m all yours.”
And it’s not enough.
Not yet.
But it’ll do.
For now.
Because I know the truth even if she doesn’t—not yet, anyway.
This thing between us? It’s not ending here. Not after this.
Not fucking ever.
Next time she says she’s mine, it won’t come with conditions.
It’ll be permanent.
I’ll make damn sure of it.
But right now? I crash my mouth to hers like I need to brand her with my kiss.
And she takes it, gives it right back—hot, needy, perfect—as her body clenches around mine and I feel her unravel beneath me.
We come undone together.
I answer her body’s demands without thought or reservation, hips driving deeper, pulling another shuddering cry from her lips as she clenches tight around me.
It undoes me. Rips through me like lightning.
I come with a broken sound—part groan, part worship—my forehead pressed to hers as I fight to catch my breath.
Burning. Gasping. Clutching.
Her nails bite into my shoulders as she shatters around me, and I follow with a groan that sounds more like surrender than satisfaction.
Because that’s what this is.
Surrender.
To her. To fate. To whatever this beautiful, dangerous thing is between us.
And maybe tomorrow everything changes.
But tonight?
Tonight, I’m making her mine. And when we’re both able to breathe again, I kiss her. And I keep kissing her.
Like I’m starving for it.
Like I might never get another chance.
Because, God help me, I might not.
And that thought alone makes me grip her tighter, pull her closer, pour everything I’m feeling into her mouth like she’s the only thing keeping me alive.
She trembles against me, and I know she feels it too. This need. This fire.
This, whatever the hell is happening between us, that’s so much more than just heat.
Every brush of my mouth, every sweep of my hands over her flushed, curvy body sends her arching.
Responsive. Beautiful. Wild. I can’t get enough.
Outside, the wind howls like a living thing. Snow stacks higher against the windows, blurring the world into white.
But in here, it’s only her.
Her breath. Her gasps. Her nails raking down my back like she’s trying to mark me from the inside out.
“Noel,” she whispers, soft and raw, like a prayer and a plea all in one.
And then I’m gathering her up, lifting her from the rug with more care than I thought I had left in me.
She wraps around me without hesitation. Arms looped around my neck. Head tucked beneath my chin like she belongs there.
I carry her through the fire-lit hallway to my bedroom, the feel of her skin against mine anchoring something I didn’t even realize was adrift.
“I’ll never get enough of you,” I murmur, voice rough with wonder, raw with want.
“I hope not,” she breathes, her cheeks flushed, her eyes dazed and dreamy and fucking perfect.
I lay her on the bed like she’s the most precious thing I’ve ever held—because she is.
Then I lean in, kiss her slow and deep, like a man who knows exactly what he’s risking and wants her, anyway.
For a moment, there’s only silence. The crackle of the storm outside. The steady beat of our hearts. Her breathing against my skin.
I run my palm down her waist, fingers brushing the curve of her hip as I whisper against her shoulder, “Still with me?”
Her lashes flutter. Her smile’s soft and wrecked. “Very.”
“Good,” I say, my voice low, hungry again. “Because I’m not done.”
I kiss her again, slower this time.
Savoring. Worshipping. Letting the tension simmer back to life with every drag of my mouth across her skin.
Because when something feels this real—when it’s more than just timing or lust or adrenaline—you don’t let it go.
You hold on.
Even if it scares you.
Even if it burns.
My Tinsel? She does both.
And I want her more than anything.