I watched him, confused, as he left the mud room. What was going on? He'd kissed me and then changed his mind? Did he not want to kiss me? Had I not responded properly? He hadn't really given me a chance to respond at all.
I mean, what the f**k? You didn't just drag a girl into a mud room, give her a quick smooch, and then run off. Who did that?
Bewildered, I returned to the main room of the lodge. Owen was sitting in front of the fireplace, busily spearing several marshmallows onto his skewer. He looked over his shoulder at me. "You going to come eat?"
It was like nothing had happened.
I sat next to him, picked up my skewer, and resisted ramming it up his nose. "I'm confused."
He glanced over at me. "'Bout what?" He picked up a chocolate bar and then made a face. "These are already half melted because we had them too close to the fire."
"Forget the chocolate bars," I told him, tempted to knock one out of his hand with my skewer. "What just happened back there?"
"Well, I hung the mistletoe there because it was the only place I could reach the roof without getting out a ladder. I figured if I dragged the ladder out here, you would have noticed right away."
I blinked at him. "But why mistletoe?" I felt like I needed concrete answers and the man wasn't giving me any.
He looked at me with those gorgeous, warm eyes. "It's a Christmas tradition? You kiss someone under it--"
"I know how mistletoe works!"
"--And I wanted to kiss you." He shrugged and turned back to the fire, shoving his marshmallow-covered skewer into the flames. "Sorry if it made things awkward."
My mouth worked to form a protest, but no words came out. I didn't know what to say. Did he kiss me just because he felt like it? Because he was bored? Or because he wanted to kiss me?
He glanced over at me. "Quit staring at me, Boston. You're making me jumpy."
"I just..." I swallowed. Thought. Picked up one of the chocolate bars. Kept thinking. "I guess I just don't follow."
"What part?"
"Why you'd want to kiss me?"
He didn't look in my direction, and I could have sworn there was a hint of a dark flush on his cheeks. "I thought it was pretty obvious, Boston. I like you."
I was speechless. That seemed to happen a lot around Owen lately. He liked me? Even though we bickered and fought over everything? Turned the smallest of things into a challenge? He liked me? That was crazy, right? I mean, I liked him, but I thought I was crazy for that, too.
"I..." I began to speak and looked down to compose my thoughts. As I did, I noticed that the chocolate I was clutching was in the process of melting all over the wrapper, and I'd dripped some onto his skin. His gorgeous, gorgeous, lickable skin. "Oops," I said, pointing out his hand.
"Oh." He raised it in the air, and then looked around for a napkin.
I grabbed his hand and dragged it to my mouth, and swiped at his skin with my tongue. Delicious.
His gaze moved to my face, and Owen stared at me for a long, tense moment.
"Did you just..."
"I bet I can kiss better than you," I said, as breathless as him.
Owen threw aside his skewer just as I moved forward and grabbed his shirt. Then, our mouths locked and we were kissing - oh god, were we kissing - and his tongue slid against mine and it was incredible. His hands slid up and down my back as I made small whimpering noises. We were frantic with lust, tearing at each other's clothes.
His mouth slid over mine, hot, wet, slick, and full of need. "I don't know," he murmured. "I'm a pretty damn good kisser."
"So am I. I have to admit I’m not seeing anything impressive yet.”
"With my kissing?" He looked startled.
"That's right," I dared him. "I think I need to see some more imagination if you're going to win this thing."
His hands cupped my face, and he leaned in and gave me the longest, most exquisite kiss I'd ever experienced. His tongue lapped at my mouth so sensually that I was stunned I didn't come right then and there. I moaned in protest when he broke it off.
"How was that?" he murmured, his tongue trailing along my jaw.
"Better," I panted. "Needs improvement, but better."
“Good.” His fingers tore at my t-shirt. Owen pulled at it and then dragged it up, and I raised my arms so he could pull it over my head. Then, I was sitting in front of him in just a bra and leggings, and his eyes feasted on my bared skin.
"I have an idea," he told me.
"Oh?"
I watched with glazed, fascinated eyes as he reached over to one of the melted chocolate bars and dipped his fingertips into the chocolate. Then, he lifted them to my mouth and began to paint my lips with the chocolate.
I was both aroused by that motion…and disappointed that he’d only gone to my lips.
I shivered when he leaned in and licked at my lower lip, sucking off the chocolate. Then he moved to kiss me again, his tongue sliding into my mouth, and the taste of him was sinfully sweet and exquisite.
"Better?"
I couldn't even formulate an answer that time. I just dragged my arms around his neck and pulled him down over me. My bra brushed against his cupcake shirt and I dragged my fingers across the front of it. "Can we get rid of this?”
"It depends," he told me, and his fingers flicked at my bra strap. "Can we get rid of this?"