Merry Misrule - St. Clair, Ellie Page 0,34

to kiss me this time.”

Kiss him? She understood why he asked. He had tried to kiss her before, and she had spurned his advances. But she had struggled to find the courage just to step into the library and speak to him, let alone to approach him and kiss him. She took a breath. And then another. And then, she looked up into his eyes, so warm and inviting, and his mouth quirked up into a smile, as though he knew exactly what she was thinking.

“What if… what if I asked you to do so for the favor you owe me?”

She wasn’t this person — this flirtatious, witty person. Yet somehow, with Elijah, she was.

“You want to waste your favor on my kiss?” he asked, his eyebrows raised.

“Yes, please,” she whispered.

He didn’t argue any longer.

Before she could close her eyes, he was there, claiming her lips under his.

And she wanted nothing more than to keep him there as long as she could.

For the second their lips touched, all of the fear that had surrounded this kiss rushed away, to be replaced with a wanting so acute it threatened to overwhelm all of her senses.

She was frozen by the thoughts whirring through her mind, of what she was supposed to do now and what he would think of her elementary attempt at returning his expert passion.

But he didn’t seem to be thinking anything — for after a moment of him briefly tasting, testing, he seemed to understand that she was welcoming whatever he had to offer, and that tension that had been held simmering beneath the surface finally burst into flames.

With a growl, Elijah closed the distance that remained between their bodies, his arms reaching out and pulling her toward him. Joanna would have liked to have noted that they were no longer beneath the mistletoe, but she was too busy — too busy opening to Elijah as he plundered her mouth like a man who had been desperately searching for her.

His tongue swept inside, and she jumped, unused to the sensation and not knowing entirely what to do, but her body seemed to take over as she simply copied him, parrying each thrust with one of her own. Her hands came around his back, inching up until she twined them into his hair, discovering that his curls did wrap around her fingers as though they belonged there.

He tasted like spicy gingerbread and smooth brandy, and she couldn’t get enough.

“Joanna,” he murmured, coming up for air, his strong hands with their long fingers coming to each of her cheeks to hold her face before him, “you shouldn’t do this to me.”

“Why not?”

She could hardly think, so muddled her mind was by the incredible power of his kiss. At least he seemed similarly affected.

“Because it’s too hard to let you go.”

“I don’t want you to.”

Disbelief covered his face for a moment, until it broke out into a self-satisfied grin. “Good.”

Oh dear. What had she gotten herself into?

He returned his lips to hers, moving his hands to her waist, spanning it with his fingers as he pulled her closer to him in the same motion. Joanna closed her eyes and finally allowed herself to forget all of her misgivings, all of her annoyance, all of her denials against Elijah. Instead, she gave herself over to the sensations he was creating within her, sensations that she never knew could exist.

Joanna could have spent all of Christmas night in the library kissing him, but eventually he left her lips, pressing them against her forehead instead.

“I’ve never had a Christmas gift so sweet,” he whispered against her. “Thank you.”

“I believe I enjoyed it just as much,” she said, her words coming in a bit of a pant as she struggled to catch her breath.

“Best go to bed now, Joanna Merryton,” he said softly, his breath brushing against her ear. “Have yourself a very happy Christmas.”

And before she knew what was happening, he had shepherded her out the door and into the corridor, and she had no idea whether she had been chosen or dismissed.

Elijah should have been pleased.

But as he leaned against the closest bookshelf and rested his head upon his hands, he groaned aloud.

For kissing Joanna had only increased his desire for her. He had pushed her out the door before his own passion for her had overwhelmed all else, most importantly his own sense of reason.

He wanted her, yes, but he was well aware that he could not simply make love to her in