Free Ask Her at Christmas by Christi Barth Page A

his erection against her, Kyle lit up every nerve in her body like a Christmas tree. She poured all her pent-up feelings into that kiss. It changed from tender to white-hot in an eyeblink. Kyle matched her hunger, mouths fusing, tongues tangling, and an almighty heat growing.
    She couldn’t get close enough. She wanted this perfect moment to last forever. However, Caitlin also wanted to rip off the stiff tuxedo jacket, untuck the starched shirt and revel in his hot, smooth skin. She wanted to trace with her fingers all the taut muscles she’d traced and retraced with only her eyes for years. The Cavendish Grand was a hotel, after all. They could be upstairs in a bed in five minutes. Caitlin rubbed against him like a cat, loving the hard pushback of his pecs against her breasts. A sound she could swear was a growl came from deep in his throat, and he dipped down to the side of her neck, nipping and licking a trail of fire.
    Pin-sharp needles dug into her bare arm and poked into the thin satin of her dress. Kyle put a protective hand on the back of her head and looked up.
    “Sorry. Gotta love an open bar.” A man in a pale blue tuxedo tried to steady himself on the enormous Christmas tree he’d just pushed into Caitlin and Kyle. Silver ornaments tinkled against each other as they tumbled to the ground. “Oh, Kyle, hey there. Merry Christmas. Tell your old man this is a great party.”
    “Merry Christmas, Rob.” Kyle leaned back, putting a few inches of air between himself and Caitlin from the waist up. But from the waist down, they were still completely enmeshed, her skirt tangled between his legs.
    “Santa brought you a real babe for Christmas, huh?” Rob extended a hand toward Caitlin, but missed her by a couple of inches. Before he toppled over, she grabbed him by the wrist. “I’m on Kyle’s team here at LTS. Nice to meet you.”
    He pumped her hand with so much enthusiasm he almost lost his balance again. Caitlin thought about warning him to stay far away from Mr. Lockhart unless he mainlined an entire vat of coffee.
    Kyle cleared his throat. “You’ve heard me talk about Caitlin.”
    “Whoa. This is the legendary Caitlin? Your best friend?” Rob leaned in to stage whisper in the general direction of Caitlin’s ear. “My best friend’s named Suresh, outweighs me by fifty pounds and wears a windbreaker all the time.” He straightened back up and thumped Kyle on the arm. “If you ever want to do a best friend exchange, just let me know.”
    “Don’t hold your breath. Caitlin’s mine.”
    Her heart leapt into her throat at his words. It had to mean the proposal was off. They both watched Rob stagger away. Suddenly Kyle stiffened. His eyebrows pulled together into a straight line. Caitlin tracked back to see what caught his attention. Mr. Lockhart stood on the opposite side of the room, a glare cold enough to kick-start the next ice age aimed directly at his son. A second later, Kyle released her, and took a couple of steps back.
    No emotion showed through the implacable mask he’d donned. The mix of not-caring and being removed from the situation that hardened into a flat stare and thin lips around his father. Except this time he aimed that expressionless gaze at her. Slowly, he pointed up to the kissing ball directly above their heads.
    “Sorry. I got carried away beneath the mistletoe. You know I’m a sucker for Christmas.”
    This was the deciding moment. She could pitch a fit, demand to know where the passionate, lusty man who’d kissed her went. Tell him nobody kissed like that without a boatload of feelings to back it up. That obviously he couldn’t marry Monica, not when he wanted her so bad his cock almost ground a hole right through her dress. Or throw all her pride out the window and admit she’d always loved him.
    Caitlin looked back over her shoulder at the still-scowling Mr. Lockhart. Kyle’s mom had died years ago. He barely spoke to his brother. She loved him too much to ask him