Chapter 7

I turned from the sink and noticed hanging directly above him was another one of my mother’s Christmas decorations. I squinted up at it and realized she’d put a sprig of mistletoe there. Not giving myself too much time to consider her motives, I walked the few steps to stand next to Connor.

Putting my arm around his waist, I drew him close. He smelled like Christmas. Cloves, cinnamon, and oranges. And eggnog and brandy.

“Mac?”

I flicked my head upward and his gaze rose to the mistletoe. He returned his gaze to mine, his grass green eyes widened in surprise just as I lowered my lips to his.

I had no intention of making it a chaste sort of kiss. No point in pretending otherwise. The mistletoe was the perfect excuse to taste those red plump lips.