Kisses Under the Mistletoe for Blissemas Day 16 + Free Blissemas Tales!

“Mince pies?” Jonathan looks a little horrified and a lot terrified. My explanation about dried fruit and suet in a pastry case doesn’t seem to alleviate the fear at all.

“You’ll love them.” I reach my hand from the gear stick to his knee. “Trust me.” Squeezing, then lingering, my fingers only leave the warmth of his jean-clad leg when use of the gear stick becomes imperative. Really, it wants to slip higher and higher up his thigh…

“Then what?”

I try to focus on the question. I was thinking about sex, but I’m pretty sure Jonathan isn’t asking me about that. “Erm, well, we’ll need something to eat, then we’ll watch The Muppet Christmas Carol. It’s a tradition, you know. It won’t be properly Christmas until we do. Then, we’ll go to see the Nativity at Tom’s before going on to midnight mass.”

“Just a few things to do then.”

“Aye!” I laugh heartily. “I’ll keep you busy all night long.” I blush as I realise how that might sound.

“I certainly hope so,” he replies, a wicked teasing light in his eye, sparkling white in the depth of his Guinness-coloured corneas. I giggle nervously then gasp aloud.

“It’s snowing! It’s snowing!” I do a little dance in my car seat, wiggling my hips whilst endeavouring to keep the steering wheel straight. “Oh, goody. I really want a white Christmas.”

“Why, so it is. It’s falling fast, too.” We’re just pulling into my drive, so thankfully I don’t have to drive any farther through the flurries of excited snowflakes.

“I do so love it when it snows!” I dance through the swirling flakes and catch Jonathan’s hand. He twirls around with me, laughing and whooping right along with me. Then he stops twirling and I end up rolling up his arm and bumping into his chest. I am about to apologise when his lips fall onto mine and silence me with a cold but rapidly warming kiss. I melt in his embrace. I wish we didn’t have so many layers between us. I want to feel his skin next to mine. I want to snuggle into him properly, hold him close and make love to him.

We pull apart with a gasping pop.

“Better get inside before we turn into snowmen.” He smiles and brushes snowflakes from my cheek. I return the grin and pull him into the house out of the swirling snow.

I slip off my thick brown coat, and hang it on the end of the stairs. Laying Jonathan’s over the top of it, I linger a moment, appreciating the sweet, musky smell lingering on the material that sparks off images of him on top of me… Oh, stop it girl! Get your hormones in check, there’s mince pies to bake.