Yanking her sweater down at the neck in total disregard for the fact that she'd told him it was new and he'd probably just stretched it to hell and back, Will sucked the swell of her breast above her white satin bra. Damn. He wanted more and so did she, given the way she was moving restlessly between his thighs and making little sounds of encouragement. It wasn't classy, but it wasn't hard to peel the front of her bra back and expose her nipple. Barely allowing himself a glance, Will flicked his tongue over it for a quick taste, then gave in to temptation, and completely enclosed her with his mouth.
Charlotte almost left her skin when Will sucked on her nipple. She had spent plenty a night visualizing just such a thing, imagining how it would feel, and planning her sexy and suave response. But she could never have known it would feel like fire and ice, like an orgasm and ice cream all at once, or that she would blurt out, "Holy shit!" instead of something witty and urbane.
It wasn't pretty, but it was exactly how she felt. Forcing her eyes open, she stared into Will's brown hair, brain trying to convince her that this was actually happening. She and Will were getting it on standing up in his apartment with one hundred or so snowmen piled around them and his Christmas tree not even assembled yet.
Crazy but true.
She needed to get a grip. Literally. If she didn't grab on to something besides his very fine butt, she was going to fall over. She needed to hold on to the table, but first she wanted just one teeny tiny little touch across the front of his jeans on her way past. If he was going to town on her chest--which she was really grateful he was--then surely she could just squeeze and take measure of what he had to offer. Well on her way to doing just that, she got caught on something by his front pocket.
Glancing down, she saw her finger had looped through red ribbon. "What's this?" She pulled back from Will to get a better look.
"What? Who cares?" He tried to pry back down the bra cup that had sprung back into place, but Charlotte stood straight up, recognizing what she was looking at.
It couldn't be. She yanked hard.
But it was.
He had the flipping mistletoe in his pocket.
"Where did you get this?" She dangled it in front of his face, horrified. He'd had the stinking mistletoe right next to his penis, of all things. That had to be seriously bad. And an obvious explanation for why he had kissed her, something he had never even hinted at before. For why he was even now reaching for her chest again.
"It was in one of the shopping bags," he said, pushing it out of the way and trying to kiss her again.
Charlotte dodged the lip lock. Her heart was pounding and she felt slightly ill. The poor man had no idea she was manipulating him into wanting her. She was evil and selfish.
"Why was it in your pocket?"
"I grabbed it thinking I could hold it up and steal a kiss." He grinned. "Turns out I didn't even need it."
Suddenly it seemed like Will had twelve hands and three mouths. He had a grip on her again and was nuzzling her ear, which was really distracting. The mistletoe was crushed between them, emitting a soft evergreen scent. "Will," she said, gathering every ounce of willpower she had. This had to stop.
"Hmm?" He made a sexy little sound, a cross between a growl and a purr as he nipped at her bottom lip.
It was so unexpected and arousing, that Charlotte shuddered, letting the ecstasy flood over her for just a tiny stolen second. Then she corralled her resistance and, in a move out of pure desperation, yanked her arm free from its position between their chests and pitched the mistletoe clear across the room, where it skittered to a stop in the kitchen.
He briefly glanced over in the direction she'd thrown. "What are you doing?" But he didn't really sound like he cared all that much. His eyes were on her breasts again.
Charlotte grabbed his cheeks and tipped his head up. "We need to talk."
She was squeezing his face kind of hard and his lips were bulging forward. "What?" he said, speech mumbled from her tight grip.
"This way you're feeling...you know, attracted to me. It's because of the mistletoe. Bree showed me how to put a lust spell on it." Charlotte winced and waited for his reaction.
"What?" he said again, looking at her blankly, his fingers resting on the neckline of her sweater, his intent clearly to pull it back down. "What the hell are you talking about?"
It sounded a little strange in retrospect. Letting go of his face, Charlotte pried her sweater out of his grip and pulled the neck back up, feeling more than a little bare, both literally and figuratively. "See, Bree thinks we're witches, right? You know that."
His eyebrow went up. "Yeah. So?"
There was just no reasonable way to explain this. "So she wants me to admit it, and in return she'll wear a reindeer sweater for Christmas." Not that Bree's clothes were the slightest bit relevant to the conversation at hand, but Charlotte was avoiding having to say out loud that she wanted Will in the worst way.
"Okay. Can't picture your sister in holiday gear, but whatever. And you're actually willing to admit you're a witch? That doesn't seem like you."
"Well...I didn't have to say or do anything so much as I had to cast a spell. Which I thought wouldn't work, because I really didn't think I was witch. So I cast a lust spell on that mistletoe for you, knowing you wouldn't react to it, then I could show Bree I'm not a witch at all. But you did react to it. So I am a witch and you're just feeling desire for me because of the spell. It's all not real, this...physical attraction for me; it's the lust spell."
His face was still really, really close to hers. It was a good long five seconds before he responded. Then he said carefully, "Why would you try to cast a lust spell on me?"
Oh, shoot. She was going to have to admit it. There was nothing for it. Charlotte swallowed hard and whispered, "Because I wanted you to want me. The way that I want you."
There it was. He could do with it as he saw fit. Charlotte wanted to toss her dinner but she just sucked in a breath and waited for the blow.
Will touched her cheek. "Sweetheart."
Tears popped into her eyes. Damn it, she was going to embarrass herself by crying, but the way he said that, so sweet, so tender, it was like he was touched, and needed to let her down easy. It was awful, yet so like him. He'd never hurt her intentionally, and she'd put him in this awkward position.
"The mistletoe had nothing to do with me kissing you."
That wasn't what she expected him to say. "What do you mean? Of course it did."
"No, it didn't. I kissed you because I wanted to. Because I want you. Sexually. And I have for a long, long time."
She had fallen and bumped her head. She was dreaming. She had accidentally ingested hallucinogenic drugs without being aware of it. She had entered an alternative universe or fallen into a virtual reality world. Because it sounded like Will had just said he wanted her, too, and that was just impossible.
"No, you don't."
He laughed. "Yes, I do. And I'm damn glad to hear you feel the same way. Not to mention flattered that you would try to cast a lust spell on me. But honey, that wasn't at all necessary because I've been lusting after you for years."
"Years?" Was that her voice? She was downright squeaking. But Will was freaking her out. "But you've never once tried to do anything...you never tried to kiss me or anything. Are you sure it's not the spell?"
She'd hate it and drop to the ground and kick and scream if it was the spell from hell, but she had to be sure. There was no way she could allow herself to get all excited and worked up thinking there was a future for her and Will, then have it yanked away. She would, quite simply, die if that were the case. Overdramatic, maybe. But still the truth.
"I did try to kiss you once five years ago. Don't you remember? You gave me such a look of horror that I just flat out stopped. I thought you weren't interested at all, that being friends is all you ever wanted."
"You never tried to kiss me!" She would remember that. And she wouldn't have pulled back. God, what had she missed? It
wasn't like a kiss attempt could really be mistaken for anything else, like reaching for a napkin, or pulling a stray hair off her face. It was impossible. She would have known.
"It was when I got shot."
One of the worst days of her life, second only to when her grandmother had died. Will had responded to a robbery alone, since Cuttersville's police force was small. They did all their patrolling solo, and that night he'd encountered a desperate twenty-year-old addict trying to break into the pharmaceutical supplies at the drugstore. He'd shot Will in the shoulder, but Will had still managed to restrain and handcuff him before calling for backup. Charlotte had gotten the call from Will's mom, who was still living in town at the time, and she'd met them up at the hospital. "What about when you got shot?" Just the memory of the fear she'd felt before knowing he was okay made her mouth go hot.
"I tried to kiss you. In the hospital. I had one of those epiphanies, you know, from facing potential death, where I thought, 'Hey, I love Charlotte, what am I waiting for?' But you looked at me like I had lost my mind, so I let it drop." He had stepped back, putting space between them, and he shrugged, looking a little sheepish.
Now it wasn't just her mouth that was hot, it was her whole body, head to toe and every speck in between. She did remember, after all. "I thought you were hopped up on pain killers and didn't know what you were doing. I thought maybe you were dreaming. You were muttering incoherently. And did you just say that you love me?"
He nodded. Then he took her hand, his touch tender, his thumb smoothing over her skin. "Charlotte, I love you, totally and completely. As a friend, yes, but it's more than that...I love you the way a man loves a woman."
Charlotte was speechless, a big old grapefruit-size lump in her throat preventing her from swallowing or speaking. Not that she had formulated a coherent response anyway. She couldn't really see, either, because tears had completely blurred her vision. So she stood there watery and wordless and shook her head, overwhelmed. This was real. He was real. The love she felt was real, and now he was telling her she had his, too.
Squeezing his hand back and breathing really hard, she managed to force out, "I love you, too," before dissolving into full-blown sobbing. She didn't mean to. Didn't want to. But the emotion she felt, the relief, the joy, the hope, was overwhelming, and she just lost it.
Will pulled her close against his chest. "Shh, sweetheart, it's alright. It's all good. These are happy tears, right?"
She nodded, face squashed against his T-shirt. "Uh-huh." Wiping her tears on the cotton of his shirt, she sucked in air and tried to get control of herself.
"Alright, then." He tipped her head up, forcing her to look at him. "Then can I make love to you?"
Hell, yes. "Absolutely." Only she couldn't stop herself from darting a quick glance over to his kitchen, where the mistletoe was lying.
He grinned. "Should I go get it? And how exactly did you cast a spell on that thing anyway?"
"It doesn't matter. Just leave it." Bree would be disappointed that it hadn't worked, but Charlotte couldn't say she was. Will wanting her all on his own was far better. There was really no comparison.
"Sure it does. I'm curious." He went over to the kitchen and picked it up. Groaning when he made contact, his eyes rolled back in his head like he was suddenly experiencing intense pleasure.
Charlotte was horrified for a split second, then Will laughed.
"Just kidding." He winked at her.
"Not funny." Though he was so damn cute, it wasn't like she could even work up any real irritation. He loved her. He. Loved. Her. She was going to be flying on that for about a month.
"Yes, it is." Will was inspecting the mistletoe. "What's this white ribbon for? It's all twisted inside the branches and you drew little pictures on it."
"Those are symbols." Charlotte crossed her arms and tried to be nonchalant about the whole thing.
"Symbols for what?" He twirled it around, running his finger down the ribbon. "This is a blue wavy line. What's that mean?"
"Serenity. In our relationship."
He glanced over at her, looking touched. "That's very sweet."
"Your friendship brings me happiness." They were only a few feet apart, but Charlotte felt the energy between them, the new awareness of each other, a sort of strumming electric attraction and excitement, a giddy sense of anticipation and security. They were no longer just friends. They were about to become lovers and they were in love. It was a powerful moment, just locking eyes with Will and letting him see the truth.
"Yours does, too, Charlotte, more than I can say." He cleared his throat and tapped the next symbol. "This is a crazy-looking H, or I don't know, like a arch of some kind. What's that mean?"
"That's the bluebird of happiness. It's for love."
Will tilted his head slightly. "This sounds more like a love spell than a lust spell."
She had to be honest, with him and herself. "Maybe it was both."
"I think they really go hand in hand, don't they? One works best with the other."
"That's true." And she loved him even more for understanding.
"So what's lusty on here?"
"The hexagram is the symbol for sex." Which she wanted to actually be doing instead of standing there talking about it.
"Okay, you have two of those. And three male symbols."
Yes, she did. Charlotte felt her inner thighs moisten, the tight ache she'd been feeling all night building and growing in anticipation. "Those are the phallus of thrusting symbols."
Will sucked in his breath, his look so hot, so aroused, that it felt like he was stroking her from across the room, like his fingers were already inside her body, invading and pleasuring her.
"Are they now? And you felt the need to put three of these on here? More than anything else, I see." Will started toward her, stalking her, an impressive erection already pressing against the front of his jeans. "Why is that, sweetheart? Are you saying you want me to thrust my cock up inside you?"
Hello. Charlotte's nipples tightened and she shifted restlessly. "Yes, that's what I'm saying. That's what I was hoping for, even when I thought it could never happen."
His hand brushed against her waist, thigh rustling against hers. "It's going to happen. Right now."
Six
WILL HAD INTENDED TO TAKE IT SLOW, SENSUAL, SWEET FOR their first time. But then Charlotte had blushed, her cheeks pink, her lips wet and parted, and she had just tossed off that admission of having put phallus-thrusting symbols on her mistletoe ribbon.
He'd heard "phallus" and "thrusting," along with her wanting him, and his brain had ceased to function. All commands were coming from below the belt now, which was why he just about attacked Charlotte, hands sliding all over her thighs, her ass, her waist, while he kissed her hard, sucking and tugging and thrusting. Her hands went into his hair, gripping hard, as they rocked and slapped together, tongues entwining, skin hot, breath rushed and urgent. Pulling back slightly, Will ripped his shirt off over his head and dropped it to the floor.
Her eyes widened and she dropped her touch to his chest, stroking over him with such appreciation and curiosity that Will groaned. Her lips were wet and shiny from his kisses, skin flushed with pleasure, legs spreading apart as she tried to get closer to him. Charlotte had a raw sensuality that he had never seen, never even guessed existed, and he wanted to see more, wanted to see how hot she could get, how far she'd go. They were going to have a hell of a lot of fun exploring that in the next few months.
Shoving up her sweater, Will pulled and tugged until it popped off over her head, her head sticking up, her arms flailing as she tried to get free. Then to his total amazement, she reached back and unhooked her bra and tossed it to the side, exposing her very lovely breasts, bare shoulders, and flat belly to him. Will forgot to breathe.
Then he couldn't prevent a guttural growl from coming out of his mouth as he bent over and took her nipple into his mouth, cupping the soft weight of her breasts with his hands. She gasped, pi
nching his shoulders. That sound, the way she expressed her pleasure, her voice the same one he knew so well, yet so different, was as big of a turn-on as the taste of her tight flesh under his tongue.
Sliding his hand down, he caressed the front of her jeans, back and forth, feeling the soft give of her body beneath his touch, regretting the thickness of denim. It was just a hint, a tease, so he unpopped the snap and tore her jeans and panties down all in one desperate motion. Lacking in any sort of romance or finesse, definitely, but he was about to suffer bodily harm from excessive arousal. He'd make it up to her later.
Charlotte was obviously of a same mind, because she gave him a hand by stepping out of her jeans. Kicking them to the side, she dropped down to her knees, before he even got a glance at her nakedness. Her knees. Hands reaching for his fly.
Holy shit. He hoped he knew where this was going.
It was. In two seconds she had his cock out and in her mouth. No hesitation, no playing around, no lick, no flick, just deep down into her throat, enclosing him in her slick, moist heat. He grabbed her head for balance and closed his eyes. "Damn, sweetheart. You're killing me."
She pulled back completely, mouth shiny, eyes hooded and still trained on his erection. "I've been wanting this for a long time."
Then she enclosed him again, forcing a quick, hot rhythm on him that had his balls tightening and his teeth grinding. It was so fucking good, but too much, too soon. He jerked away, and shoved his own jeans down and dropped onto his knees. Charlotte rested in front of him, lips puffy, chin glistening with moisture, her chest pink with excitement and exertion. Giving her a searing kiss, Will put his arm around her shoulder and urged her back onto the carpet.