The Mistletoe Effect Read online

  He almost spoke—almost let her know how sexy she was and how badly he wanted to be inside her, how he wanted to make her scream in pleasure—but the silence pressed down on them with a heavy intensity that precluded words.

  His first instinct was to lay her back on a bed and bring her pleasure with his tongue, but there’d be time for that later. She’d sheathed him in a condom for a reason and it was time to reward her boldness. He looped his arms around her back and kissed her, urging her to turn toward the door. He took her wrists in hand and placed them palms down against the door, then pinned her body in place with his hips, putting them in the same position they’d been only minutes earlier on the opposite side of the door.

  “Where were we?” he whispered, dragging his lips along her shoulder.

  Sweat made their bodies slick and turned Carina’s skin sweet to his tongue. She twisted her neck and kissed him, her one hand coming back to clutch at his backside. They were back to being primitive again, sloppy and wet with their kisses, grunting instead of using words, their movements clumsy.

  Decker’s hand slid along her ass, down and around, all the way to the wet heat between her legs. She spread her legs and arched her back, giving him free access to her body’s center. He spit on his other hand, coated the condom with it, then bent his knees and lined himself up with her entrance. His mouth on her neck and breathing through flared nostrils, he inched himself into her, relishing the sensation of parting her swollen flesh, torturing both of them with the sweet agony of locking their bodies together for the first time.

  He slid his shaft out of her in slow motion, savoring the friction.

  The door rattled with his first thrust at full power, a perfect accompaniment to her moan of pleasure. Seizing hold of her hips in both hands, he braced his feet against the floor and thrust again. Rattle. Oh, yeah, this was going to be a hell of a ride.

  Taking her moans as a cue, he pounded into her hard, over and over, working up a heavy sweat, his pulse racing, grunting and panting along with her noises of bliss. Then, shifting his weight and the angle of his thrust, he pressed his torso against hers and wrapped his arm around to reach her clit. The moment his fingertip touched down on it, her moan turned into a cry. He got his face near hers, cheeks touching, and surged into her.

  She rolled her head back to rest against his shoulder and took what he gave her, every inch of his length, every swirl of his finger, his sweat, his sounds. He’d never felt so much like an animal, lost in his base needs. She cried out her release, her body jerking, her head falling forward again. With a roar, he gave himself permission to let go, surging into her with erratic, selfishly brutal thrusts that made the rattling door sound like it might blow off its hinges.

  When he was fully spent, he held himself inside her and bathed her back and shoulders with kisses, wishing he had the words to let her know how amazing that had been.

  “Are you okay?” he asked instead, separating their bodies and taking a step back.

  “More than okay. You?”

  “Yeah. Wow. Uh …” Hands on his hips, he fought to catch his breath.

  “I’m going to turn on a light, okay?”

  “Yeah. Hopefully there’s no one sleeping in the bed, right?”

  She gave a wheezy laugh that let him know he wasn’t the only one short of breath. “Oh my goodness, can you imagine?”

  With a click, a light in the corner turned on, casting the room in a golden glow. There was no bed in sight, only a sitting room decked in lavish holiday décor flanked by a kitchen and dining room table on one side and double doors on the other that most likely led to the bedroom. A bottle of champagne was on ice in a bucket on the kitchen counter.

  “Want some champagne?” Carina asked. She walked past him, and his eyes dropped instantly to her gorgeous rounded ass. If he’d thought Carina’s body lying poolside in a bikini was heavenly, then beholding her naked and knowing he was going to get to see her like that on a daily basis for the next three weeks was many steps beyond. Nirvana.

  He followed her to the kitchen, thinking to open the bottle for her, when he noticed a basket sitting on the counter next to the champagne bucket. The first items in the basket to catch his attention were condoms. Those were going to come in handy tonight. Then he caught sight of a riding crop. Curious, he took a closer look. In the basket were all kinds of kinky supplies a couple might need, from lube and a blindfold to dildos—and all were Christmas themed, including a pair of red panties sporting a mistletoe sprig over the crotch.

  He picked up the riding crop and gave it a swish. “This isn’t a standard honeymoon suite basket, is it? Or is Briscoe Ranch Resort more progressive than I’d given it credit for?”

  “It’s the gift that I and the other bridesmaids gave Haylie at her bachelorette party. A Naughty Newlyweds basket. She asked me to have them here tonight along with their luggage.”

  “What did you contribute?”

  She pointed to three tubes. “The lubricants, the cock rings—”

  Cock rings? He picked up the ribbed green latex cock ring and stretched it into a wide oval. “My, my, Mrs. Decker.”

  “I like the way you say that. You make it sound so dirty, like Mrs. Decker is my stripper name.”

  He got a perverse pleasure in calling her that, too. “You are just full of surprises tonight.”

  Her eyes flashed. Was that defensiveness he saw? “I might be a pushover and a workaholic, but I’m no prude. Is that so surprising?”

  “Not anymore. Not after that.” He tipped his head toward the front door.

  The resort staff’s whispered insults and needs-to-get-laid-to-get-the-stick-out-of-her-ass theories about the icy Miss Briscoe had always pissed him off, but he must have bought in to the idea somewhat, because he’d always imagined that sex with Carina would be more of a showcase for his expertise in the sack. She’d be naïve and pliant and him just a fucking stud, melting her with each swipe of his tongue or thrust of his dick. But she was his sexual equal in every way. She’d blown his mind.

  Now that he knew firsthand just how wrong everyone was about her, he felt like he was the keeper of the world’s best secret. “I don’t know about you, but I can’t wait to make use of this bounty of riches.” His gaze skimmed over their choices. “What would you like to try first?”

  Her hand closed over a length of red rope. “Do you know how to tie a good knot?”

  He took the rope from her and stretched it between his hands. “Woman, I’m a cowboy by trade. Don’t go questioning my rope-handling skills.”

  She rewarded his answer with a smile. “You know what I think?”

  “Tell me.”

  She held out her wrists as though in offering, her eyes blazing with wicked intent. “I think this marriage gig is going to be a whole lot of fun.”

  ∗∗∗

  Carina woke to a faint buzzing sound. She peeled one eye open, only one word in her mind: caffeine. She needed a cup of black tea and maybe some ibuprofen—stat. She raised her head in search of a clock, but the first sight her one-eyed gaze hit was Decker. He was lying next to her on his back, with no top sheet in sight, buck naked and slumbering peacefully except for a monster hard-on that had both her eyes flying wide open to better appreciate his body. Who needed caffeinated tea with that kind of first-of-the-morning greeting?

  Her eyes roved over the rest of his body, those long limbs, broad, suntanned shoulders, and a chest boasting just enough hair to advertise the wealth of testosterone running through his veins. So this was what her duty to the resort had gotten her last night. Not a bad trade-off. Not bad at all. Sacrifice, my ass.

  The faint buzzing sounded again, but this time she recognized it as her phone vibrating. She rolled out of bed and stumbled toward the sound, which seemed to be coming from the pile of clothes near the door. She’d only gone a couple steps when her foot snagged on something and she fell forward on her hands and knees onto the cushy carpet with a whispered curse. Groaning, she shook her leg aw
ay from the tangle of red rope it’d caught on, then crawled the rest of the way to the clothes pile through a hedonistic debris field of naughty toys, condom wrappers, bottles of lube, discarded clothes, and an empty champagne bottle.

  She found her purse under her bridesmaid’s dress and pulled her phone out. When she saw the number of the missed call, her eyes flew open wide. She leaned against the door and pressed the callback button, then peeled off a condom wrapper that was stuck to her knee.

  “Come on, answer,” she muttered on the fourth ring.

  “Carina?”

  Carina’s heart dropped with relief. “Oh my God, Haylie, where are you? Are you okay?”

  “Relax, Sis. I only called to tell you that I’m fine. Will you tell Mom and Dad for me?”

  She did sound fine, happy even, but Carina had too many questions to stop worrying yet. “Sure, but tell them what? Where are you?”

  “If I told you, then you’d tell Daddy and he’d come get me, which would be a disaster.”

  Carina frowned at the phone. “Okay, that’s not fair. I can keep a secret from him if you want me to.”

  Haylie sighed. “No, you can’t. Listen, I have to go. Just let everyone know they don’t have to worry. I’m safe and happy.”

  “When are you coming home?” Carina said, but Haylie had already hung up. If Haylie said she was safe and happy, then Carina would try not to worry. After all, how much trouble could a runaway bride get into? Then again, Haylie was the bride, so perhaps that was the wrong question to ask herself. Cringing, she tucked her phone back in her purse, leaned her head against the door, and closed her eyes.

  Down the hall, a knock sounded on another room’s door, followed by a call of, “Housekeeping!”

  Carina did the math. The housekeepers didn’t start their shift until eight in the morning and didn’t usually arrive at this wing of the resort until ten. She shot to her feet with a curse. Decker groaned and rolled to his side away from her, but Carina was too overcome with panic to admire his butt or the play of muscles on his back. She had two weddings to manage that day, the first starting with bridal party photographs in an hour. She snatched her purse from the floor and found her phone again, checking the time. Check that—the bridal party photographs started in thirty minutes. Triple dog damn it.

  Then it hit her. The only outfit she had to walk through the hotel in was her Santa Claus dress. Oh, hell no.

  Wait … Haylie’s luggage. She and Wendell had asked for their luggage to be brought to the suite before the wedding. Carina’s gaze scanned the room. When she didn’t see any suitcases, she strode to the closet. Nothing. She hustled through the suite, looking in every closet and under every table. Haylie’s and Wendell’s luggage was nowhere to be found. Why they’d each taken the time to stop by the room and pick it up was a mystery Carina didn’t have time to dwell on at the moment.

  It was hard to hit the speed dial for Emily’s number, her hands were shaking so hard with adrenaline.

  “Hey, you,” Emily said, sounding distracted. “I can’t talk. The ovens are still acting up and I have three hundred mushroom brie pastry bites to bake for the one o’clock reception.”

  “That’s why I’m calling. The Anderson/Jesniki wedding. I forgot to set my alarm.”

  The phone was silent for a beat, then, “Wait. You haven’t left your apartment yet? Oh, shit.”

  “I don’t have time to explain, but I’m not at my apartment, and I need clothes right now. I refuse to make a walk of shame in my maid-of-honor dress.”

  “Hold on. Where are you?” Emily gasped. “Decker’s house?”

  Carina looked over her shoulder at her very own sleeping giant. “Not quite.”

  “Oh. My. God. I want details. Lots of details.” A timer sounded in the background. “But not now. I wish I could help you, sweetie, but I’ve got to get the puff pastries in the oven. Good luck.”

  Carina dropped her arm as dread sank in. With Haylie gone and Emily busy, there was no one left to call whom Carina trusted to get her out of this jam. Alex, maybe, but she was holding out hope that he’d picked up the slack for that morning with the wedding prep. So, really, her only choices were to do a walk of shame in last night’s dress across the main lobby or … she looked around until she’d found Decker’s tuxedo in a heap. Or she could improvise.

  Jogging to the bathroom, she scooped up the tux and hit number 2 on her autodial, then tucked the phone between her ear and shoulder. Alex answered the call, his only greeting a snort of amusement.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” she said.

  “It means I’m proud of you. How’s life as a newlywed?”

  The mini shampoo and conditioner bottles went tumbling into the sink as she grabbed the complimentary sewing kit from the basket on the bathroom counter. “I didn’t really get married, you know.”

  “My brain says you didn’t, but my eyes saw you wearing a wedding band and making out with your groom at the reception, then leaving early with him. And the maids started spreading it around that the Sugar Plum honeymoon suite was occupied last night by the bride and groom. Looks like you took my advice and ran with it. Like I said, I’m proud of you, grasshopper.”

  She winced. “The maids are talking?”

  “I don’t think talking is the right word. More like texting.”

  Great. All this work to avoid a walk of shame might be for naught. She pulled the white thread from the kit along with a needle. “Alex, back to the reason I called. Please tell me everything’s ready for the Anderson/Jesniki wedding.”

  “Of course it is. The chapel has been cleared out of last night’s green-and-red palette and re-adorned in whites and golds, champagne breakfasts were delivered to the bride’s and groom’s suites right on time, and the Tannenbaum Ballroom looks like a gilded snow scene.”

  Carina allowed herself to pause. She set the needle and thread down and closed her eyes, then let out a slow exhalation of relief. Alex was her secret weapon, the person tethering her to her sanity during each winter wedding season. He was such a skilled event planner and so passionate about the work that he should have been running his own company. Every year, she expected him to quit and do just that, but he never did.

  “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “Funny, I was saying that very thing this morning. And yesterday, and the day before …” His voice trailed off into a faux-beleaguered sigh.

  For the first time since waking, she felt like smiling. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  After the call ended, she added darts to the back of the dress shirt to help tailor the fit. She preferred the stitch pattern of her sewing machine for these kinds of clean lines, but she had a steady enough hand and plenty of experience to execute a fine tailoring job.

  When she was done with the shirt, she pulled the tuxedo pants on. As she’d expected, they were way too long. She folded the cuffs to fit, then removed the pants and sat on the closed lid of the toilet seat to perform a quick hem.

  After that, her new ensemble came together fast. The pointy end of a wine bottle opener she found in a kitchen drawer was perfect for poking a hole in Decker’s belt so it’d fit her. In front of the full-length bedroom mirror, she slid into the pants, then added the belt, topped it with his undershirt, and finally donned the tailored dress shirt with the sleeves rolled to her elbows. Boom—just like that she had a passable outfit in minutes flat.

  “You look way better wearing my clothes than you have a right to.”

  She spun toward Decker’s gravelly first-of-the-morning voice. He’d propped himself up on an elbow in bed, his light brown hair a haphazard mess and his legs sprawled. Behind a thick coat of dark stubble on his cheeks and chin, he grinned at her with a confident lopsided smile. “Good morning,” he said.

  “Hi.” She watched, mesmerized by the play of his muscles as he sat fully up and stretched his arms above his head. Shaking herself out of the trance, she turned her attention back to her re
flection.

  “Do you really think this looks okay? I’m late for the first wedding of the day and there’s no way I’m making a walk of shame past all of Briscoe Ranch’s employees in the Santa Claus dress from last night.”

  “I think they would’ve understood, given that you’re a newlywed.”

  She shoved her keys and phone into her purse. “We’re not—oh, you’re making a joke. Sorry. Stress.”

  “I can see that.”

  As was her ritual every morning right before walking out the door, she gave her hair a toss for some oomph, then applied her favorite raspberry lip gloss. “I have to go. We’re going to have to figure this out, with you and me, later.” She waved the lip gloss tube in a circle as she hustled toward the door, glancing at the nightstand alarm clock as she moved. “Oh my God. I can’t believe I’m this late. I’m never late. Ever.”

  Her attempt to open the door was barred by a hand that flattened on the door near her shoulder and held it closed. “Hold your horses, there, Tasmanian Devil.”

  Frustrated that her momentum was coming to a screeching halt, she dropped her head forward and took a steadying breath. She didn’t have time for this because people were counting on her—people including brides and grooms who were expecting the happiest and most perfect day of their lives. Juggling a personal life with the demands of her career during the fall and winter was impossible. It didn’t matter that what she wanted most was to crawl back into bed with Decker and order room service; that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

  Head still down, she opened her eyes, and it hit her how similarly they were standing to the first time they had sex. Her facing the door, Decker behind her. His bare foot rested alongside her heel. Her gaze slid up his leg and higher, to the expanse of hairy, muscular flesh on his leg, then to his hip and the side of his torso. Heat coiled in her lower belly. He didn’t have any clothes on, and he was pressing against her backside. She was all for that, except that she was running way too late to even have time to appreciate a sexy, naked, aroused man or the memories of their consummation.