“Hey, look, we’re under the mistletoe.” I hoped my tone was casual, like I’d not planned getting Marcus in this position all the work week long.
“Oh, yeah.” He casually remarked, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
“Well, that means we’ve got to kiss, doesn’t it?” He wasn’t going to get away without kissing me. The plots and plans I’d tried before to seduce him had all failed – mostly because I’d wimped out of implementing them. I’d wanted Marcus from the moment her first walked into the office. It took me a month to work up the courage to talk to him once I did though, I realised that not only was he darkly attractive he was clever and funny too.
“What kind of kiss is customary?” He asked.
“On the lips.” The words slipped out lubricated by the false bravery of being dressed like an elf. Yes, the work do was fancy dress.
Marcus shook his head and the bell on the tip of it jingled. He was an elf too. Tights suited him.
“Oh, I don’t know, Claire, would a kiss on the cheek suffice?” My heart sunk but I recovered quickly. Any kind of kiss was better than none. And he did give good cheek kiss. His beard was just bristly enough to make my skin tingle. It was a good day when we won that particular contract. Yes, he kissed the whole team on the cheek in celebration, even the blokes but I was sure there was something special about ours.
“A kiss on the cheek could keep a girl going for weeks on end.” I said with a cheeky smile.
“What about a kiss on the lips,” he replied, the familiar smirk lighting up his face. He liked to tease me, loved to make me blush so I regularly saw that cat got the cream smile.
“Well, I don’t really know, you’ve never kissed me on the lips before.”
“No, I haven’t have I, well, we’re under the mistletoe and you have pointed out that it’s traditional to kiss lip to lip…” The sentence trailed off as his lips came closer to mine. My throat constricted, my heart ceased, my stomach lurched and I tried really hard not to faint. It was finally happening.
His lips hit mine gently. I was taken aback by the tenderness that blossomed into passion as the kiss continued. We were connected lip to lip and I had to reach out, grab his arm and steady myself and when he mirrored the action, stroking his fingers along my elbow, I gasped.
He took that as an invitation to kiss more, the introduction of a darting tongue made my knees shake. He was kissing me, properly kissing me and holding me, both hands now cupped my hips as mine both traced his back. I could have kissed him all night but he suddenly pulled back.
“So, how long will that last you?” He asked between panted breaths.
“Not very long at all, I think it’s worn off already.” I gasped. “I want more.”
“Well we are still under the mistletoe, Pucker up.”
© Victoria Blisse