Home > Under the Mistletoe with Me (With Me in Seattle #1.5)(11)

Under the Mistletoe with Me (With Me in Seattle #1.5)(11)
Author: Kristen Proby

“Nope.” He smiles down at me, and when we reach the top of the stairs, instead of heading to the master suite, he pulls me in the other direction, toward a spare bedroom. I gasp as we walk inside.

The covers on the double sized bed have been pulled all the way off, leaving the soft blue fitted sheet covering the mattress, and the matching top sheet pulled back. There are at least a dozen candles lit all over the room, sending shadows over the space. Soft music is playing through a small sound system in the corner.

Isaac pulls me against him, his front to my back and wraps his arms around me, kissing my hair, then turns me around and pulls my shirt up over my head, letting it fall to the floor.

“I think you need a massage,” he murmurs and slips my bra off, throwing it on top of my shirt.

“You do?” I ask dryly.

“Yes,” he responds simply. He pulls my jeans and panties off, bending down to slip them over my feet. He stands and kisses my lips gently, cupping my face in his hands. “Lie on the bed, on your stomach,” he whispers.

“Okay.” Like I’m gonna say no to that.

I lie on my stomach and let out a big sigh.

“No sleeping,” Isaac says with a chuckle.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m never this tired,” I respond with a smile.

“You’re relaxed. I’m glad, honey. That was the point of taking a few days away.” I hear him rub his hands together and then they’re on my back, firmly stroking in a long line down the sides of my spine, over my bare ass, around my hips and up my sides to my shoulder blades, and then he does it again, making long, broad strokes over my back.

“Oh God, I love you.” I moan.

He laughs and starts to massage my low back in slow, firm circles. “Feel good?” he murmurs with a smile in his voice.

“Mmmm.”

He works his way up and down my back, then over my butt again and down each leg, gently yet firmly working my muscles into submission.

“You’re so good with your hands, Eyes. This is why I married you.”

“Is this the only reason?” he asks.

“This and your ass.”

His hands stop moving.

“My ass?” he asks, his voice amused.

“Your ass. You have a great ass.”

“I don’t think you’ve ever told me that.”

“I didn’t want to over-inflate your ego.”

He smacks my ass, sending a loud slap through the room. I push up to my elbows with a gasp.

“Hey!”

“I like your ass too. It’s slapable.”

“Slapable? I don’t think that’s a word.” I lay back down to enjoy his roaming hands.

“I don’t care. It is.”

“It grew even more slapable with Sophie.” I murmur and grin.

“Your ass did not grow,” he mutters.

“Do you need glasses?”

“It didn’t.”

“Whatever. I think there are still stretch marks back there to prove you wrong.”

“Shut up.”

“Does it bother you?” I ask and push up to my elbows again, looking back at him. He’s frowning, the lines between his eyebrows prominent.

“Does what bother me?”

“The change in my body. The stretch marks, the pouch on my belly that might never go away.”

His hands stop and he looks me in the eye, his gaze worried. “Do they bother you?”

“Not really. We worked hard for these changes.” I shrug and look down.

“Look at me.” His hard voice surprises me. “I don’t see the changes, Stace. I see my wife.” He shrugs, and I don’t know why but that simple statement makes me want to cry. “I’ve been hot after you since the first moment I saw you in that bar in college.”

I just stare at him. Well, shit he’s sweet.

His hands resume their course over my skin and I sigh and lay my head back on the bed.

“I’ll tell you what I do see,” he murmurs and runs his thumb up the middle of my right calf. “Soft, smooth skin.” His touch lightens, and now it’s just his fingertips, moving up and down my legs, tickling that sensitive spot behind my knees, and traveling up and over my bottom to my back.

“Firm ass, dimples at the small of your back that are sexy as fuck.” He leans down and kisses my dimples, runs his tongue over them and then chastely kisses them again.

“Strong shoulders,” he murmurs, brushing his fingers over them and up into my hair. “The most beautiful hair I’ve ever had my hands in. It’s thick and heavy, and the color… right now with the candlelight, it looks like it’s on fire.”

Fuck me.

“Turn over,” he whispers in my ear. I comply and look up into his molten blue eyes. He pushes my hair off my face and offers me a gentle smile. “I see flecks of gold in your eyes, and when you’re turned on like you are right now, they shine. And your lips…” He kisses me softly and runs his thumb over my lower lip. “Your lips are soft and pink and say the sweetest things.”

He slowly makes his way down my chin and neck, kissing and nibbling. My body is moving beneath him, writhing. I’m completely seduced by him; my body by his touch and my mind and heart with his words.

“Your breasts are perfect.” He gently suckles one nipple, then the other and makes his way down to my belly, tickling me with his nose and lips.

He gently traces the evidence of my pregnancy with his fingertip. “These aren’t ugly, baby.” He nuzzles my belly. “We did work hard for them, and you earned them. They’re fading. But even if they never go away, every mark was worth it. Because without them, we wouldn’t have Soph.” He looks up at me and I run my fingers through his hair. I have tears in my eyes.

“When did you get so good with words?” I whisper.

He shakes his head and kisses my belly again. “I know I don’t tell you enough how sexy you are. But don’t ever doubt that I love your body, just the way it is, no matter how it changes.”

His fingers glide down my stomach, over my pubis and to my folds. Isaac grins.

“This is another of my favorite places.”

“Is that right?” I grin back at him and sigh as he sinks one finger inside me while his thumb dances around my clit.

“Oh, definitely.” He scoots further down the bed and opens my core, his thumbs parting my lips. “Look how beautiful you are. Pink and wet.” His lips glide from my clit down through my labia, then he uses his tongue to trace back up again. “Delicious,” he whispers.

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