The Holidate Season Read Online Vi Keeland, Penelope Ward

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Novella Tags Authors: ,
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Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
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Oh.

It’s the last thing she gets out before my mouth crashes down on hers.

Something clatters to the floor. She makes a soft whimper, then she melts into me.

Into my body. Into the kiss.

Into everything.

I’ll probably regret this later.

But right now?

Right now, I need this woman to know she’s just as worthy as she thinks I am.

More worthy, in fact.

No matter what other relationships I might be putting in jeopardy.

MEG

I thought the cinnamon rolls would be the best part of my day.

But they are not.

Not even close.

Trevor kissing me?

This is the best part of my day.

I don’t know why his arms are wrapped around me and his warm, delicious lips are devouring me, and I don’t care.

I just know it’s everything I’ve wanted for days. Weeks. Years.

And I’ll probably regret it in another thirty seconds, but for right now, I’m hanging on with everything I have, wrapping my own arms around his neck, testing the feel of his damp, thick hair, breathing in the scent of his aftershave and tasting mint on his tongue.

He breaks the kiss with a curse. “Jude is gonna kill me.”

“Shut up. I’m a grown woman. Kiss me again.”

“This mouth,” he growls.

My clit tingles, and my nipples harden as the deep rumble of his words reverberates against my chest. “Please kiss me again,” I whisper.

“Meg—”

I cut him off by going onto my toes and nipping at his lower lip.

He groans, and then he’s gripping my hair, pulling my head back and sliding his tongue into my mouth as if he’s been resisting this just as much as I have.

I squirm, trying to get closer, and the hard ridge of his erection presses into my belly. I want his shirt off. I want my shirt off. I want to feel his hands on my bare skin and lose myself in exploring his body.

Forget the cinnamon rolls.

Forget Christmas.

Just give me Trevor Stafford.

He pulls out of the kiss and shifts to pressing his lips along my jawline while I try to wrap my legs around his hips and totally fail.

“Oh my god, I want you,” I gasp as he nibbles at my earlobe, finally saying out loud the words I’ve denied for so many years.

“Do you have any idea how much resisting you has driven me crazy the past few weeks?” he murmurs in my ear.

“N-no.”

“You’re sunshine.” He licks that sensitive spot right between my ear as the music shifts to “Oh Holy Penis.”

Yes.

Yes, please, I want his holy penis.

Inside me.

Right now.

I slide my hands under his shirt.

He groans again, arching into my touch, and nips at my collar bones. “You’re infectious laughter.”

I press kisses to the rough skin on his jaw. “I’m ridiculous.”

He presses his hard-on into my belly and licks the hollow at the base of my neck. “You’re hope and light and courage and you are completely and totally irresistible.”

“Trevor.”

“I can’t resist you anymore, Meg. I’ve tried. I’ve lied to myself for weeks—years—but I can’t do it anymore. Jude’s gonna kill me, and I don’t care.”

I grab his cheeks. “This isn’t about my brother.”

Gah, those beautiful eyes.

Those heavy-lidded, smoky hazel eyes.

“I know,” he whispers.

“I want you to kiss me.”

“I want to kiss you and strip you naked and spend the entire holiday season with you in my bed.”

My vagina is throbbing, my skin is on fire and if he so much as caresses one of my breasts, I’m pretty sure I could come on the spot. “You want me.”

“I wanted to kiss you so badly last night, I could barely think straight.”

His hands roam my body, testing and squeezing and driving me crazy while I do the same to him. “So kiss me now.”

He does.

Oh, god, he does.

He kisses me slow and deep and thorough while he walks me backward into the living room, squeezing my ass, untying my apron and tossing it aside.

My shirt goes with my apron.

His shirt too.

I suck in a breath at the sight of the angry red scar on his shoulder, and he freezes.

“I’ll put my shirt back on,” he says.

“No.” I gingerly touch the raised skin. “Does it hurt?”

“Not there.”

I kiss it softly, my other arm wrapped around his waist. “You give your all. Every time. No matter the cost.”

“Meg—”

“That is so sexy.”

He drops his nose into my hair. “It’s—”

“Your story,” I finish before he can say something awful about his scar. “It’s your story. It’s your life. And it’s beautiful. And so are you.”

“Do you have any idea how hard it’s always been to resist you when you always see the best in everyone?” He keeps nudging me back until my calves hit the sofa.

“I’ve seen you at your best.”

“And my worst.”

“But I know what your best can be.”

“Oh, no. I don’t think you do. Not yet.” His beautiful eyes sparkle with amusement as he pulls away and looks down at me. Amusement, and heat, and desire.



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