Free Mistletoe & Hollywood by Natasha Boyd, Kate Roth

gritting my teeth, and steeling my body. With the need to be quiet, I was pressure-filled and only getting wound tighter. And then I was past the point of no return, and yet it was still building.
    Jack was relentless and focused, his tongue and his hands clearly not at all impinged by the alcohol he’d obviously consumed.
    I was coming apart. I was hurtling down a track as bolts and ties tore loose inside me, but I couldn’t let go. Or maybe I simply couldn’t stop. I bucked against Jack’s mouth.
    His free hand held me down, his fingers biting into my thigh, an answering groan seemed torn from his throat, vibrating against me.
    “I can’t…” I tried. But then I did. My eyes screwed shut, squeezing desperate tears that came out of nowhere. I arched wildly against his mouth, forcing him harder against me. My climax roared through me, and forcing the pillow into my open mouth, I screamed silently.
    A desperate sound came from Jack, and I was suddenly being pulled forward off the bed and onto his thighs. His mouth found mine, and I tasted myself mixed with a smoky whisky on his tongue as he kissed me deeply, his arms like steel bands around my body.

 
     
     
    JACK WAS HUNG over.
    And I needed to get him back to optimum performance as soon as possible. I had eggs and bacon made, black coffee and orange juice standing by, and Paracetamol, which Charlotte had assured me was the same as Tylenol, lying in wait. Nigel was arriving in an hour to take us to Max’s place for lunch and to get Charlotte’s car that Jack had abandoned. Charlotte and Jeff had left at the crack of dawn.
    I opened with the juice and a painkiller. “Wakey, wakey, rise and shine,” I sang, standing over the lump in the bed. His head was wedged under a pillow, and he emitted a long groan. “I have something you want,” I added.
    “Does it include you, naked?” his gruff, disembodied voice asked.
    “Uh, no.”
    “Then I don’t want it.”
    “It’s better than that,” I assured him.
    He flung the pillow off his head, revealing a scowl and hair all over the place. He squinted up at me. “There’s nothing better than that.”
    “There’s a painkiller. So you might actually enjoy it if I take my clothes off.”
    He looked at me a beat longer, then held out his hand.
    I plopped the pills into his palm and held out the juice while he scooted up onto an elbow.
    “Why are you so chipper?” he asked. “Aren’t you supposed to be mad at me or something?”
    “Is that what you were trying to accomplish?”
    “No. I was being an asshole. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone off like that without telling you where I was going.”
    “Or taking your mom’s car so she had to get up at five this morning to go into the city with Jeff.”
    “Shit. Are you serious? Oh my God.” He dropped his head into his hands.
    “I’m kidding. She is gone, but only because she planned to do that anyway. You need to get your ass out of bed so we can go get her car. Nigel will be here soon.”
    “You are mad at me.”
    “Nope. I’m not. Not after what you accomplished last night. My feelings got hurt, and I was worried about you. We all were. Now get up, but take a shower first, you smell like an old pub.”
    “Um… when you say what I accomplished last night, are you referring to the shattering orgasm I gave you? Because I feel like that should be a free pass for any future bullshit too.”
    “I can’t believe you even remember it, to be honest. I think you were pretty tanked.”
    “Baby, that was so intense, I practically came just getting you off. I probably would have, if I’d been sober. Trust me, I’m not likely to forget that in a hurry.”
    “As amazing as it was—”
    “As incredible, no, mind-blowing… as mind-blowing as it was,” he modified my sentence, “… continue.”
    I picked up a small toss pillow and threw it at him.
    He caught it midair.
    “As mind-blowing as it was,” I conceded. “It is definitely not a free pass for