Free Mistletoe Mischief by Stacey Joy Netzel Page A

cart?” she whispered in breathless anticipation.
    His head lowered. “Mistletoe rules.”
    “And I remember something about it’s bad luck if we don’t kiss under the mistletoe?”
    He leaned closer, his breath brushing her lips. “ Very bad.”
    “Who made up that rule?”
    His gaze locked on hers. “Seriously? You want that story now?”
    She grinned and shook her head, then closed her eyes at the exact moment his lips met hers. It began as a duplicate of the kiss at the zoo, but with her overblown fears put into perspective and no need to fight her overwhelming attraction, Marissa wasn’t about to let the privacy of the workshop go to waste.
    She tightened her arms about his neck, pressed closer to his solid length, and parted her lips in blatant invitation. Eric accepted with a deep, stomach-fluttering groan, angling his head to slide his tongue against hers.
    The lingering flavors of the wine they’d drank danced on her tastebuds; sweet vanilla, ripe black cherry and tantalizing spices. Pine registered, too. She dragged a ragged breath into her tight lungs.
    Eric. All him, all male.
    His red-hot heat intensified every flavor and scent. Or were her enhanced senses a result of the wildfire burning between them? Delving her fingers into his hair, as thick and soft as she’d imagined, she eagerly sought to explore the inside of his mouth as he had hers. His hands roamed every inch of her back and lower before he pressed her back against the doorjamb, his hips tight against hers.
    Desire pulsed through her with every thrust of his tongue and suggestive movement of his hips. A low moan of pleasure vibrated her chest, yet she couldn’t have said which of them uttered the sound.
    He tore his mouth from hers, raising both hands to brush her hair back and cup her face while their gazes connected. “Mistletoe definitely rules.”
    She smiled. His thumb rubbed across her throbbing bottom lip, and she opened her mouth to nip at the rough pad. The retreating fire in his eyes burst back to life. It took nothing more than a gentle tug to bring his mouth down again.
    The next time they came up for air, she buried her face in the warm crook of his neck. Their hearts thundered in sync against each other. “Mmm, you smell like pine.”
    “That’s the workshop.”
    “No.” She inhaled deeply against his heated skin when he bared her neck to graze his teeth across her skin. “I’ve noticed it off and on all day, and it’s not the same as when I first walked in here. It’s you.”
    “Sorry.” He nipped the edge of her earlobe. His hot breath sent a delicious tremor rippling along her sensitized flesh before he moved on. “I worked a couple hours this morning before leaving to pick up Reese for school.”
    “Don’t apologize, I like it.” She drank in the scent that had warmed and strengthened in the height of their passion.
    He kissed his way along her jaw, so she framed his face with her hands, holding him still while she dipped her chin to capture his lips with hers. Raw desire gave way for something more tender and yet equally arousing. They pulled back at the same time, breathing deep but not labored.
    Marissa stared wide-eyed at Eric’s stunned expression. An emotional connection thrummed in the air like she’d never felt before. Her chest bound so tight, drawing sufficient oxygen proved difficult, leaving behind a sensation of lightheaded intoxication that had nothing to do with the wine.
    “Daad!”
    Marissa blinked and dropped her arms at the same time Eric took a hasty step back.
    “Moomm!” A second later Reese and Heather skidded to a stop on the workshop porch, flashlights bobbing in their hands. The two girls stared at the adults.
    “Come on, Dad, when are we going to start the campfire?” Reese asked with a hint of a whine.
    Marissa couldn’t make herself look away from Eric. Their severed physical connection did nothing to diminish the emotional link still hovering between them. He cleared his