He shifts to face me. “I do, but I love Yuletide too. I just love being outside. And I’m better with some space from my family. They can be overwhelming.”
“I guess I can see that. Do you ever think about moving back here?”
He wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me to his side. “You’re shivering. Want to head back?”
“Not yet.” I really don’t. There’s something so peaceful about this place, almost reverential. It’s been so long since I’ve had any peace in my life, but I don’t think I realized until this moment just how stressed I’ve been. “I’ll be okay.”
He lifts me and pulls me into his lap. I’m immediately warmer.
“Better?” he asks.
The part of me that hates to need help from anyone wants to argue, but it’s very comfortable on his lap and I love his arms around me. I can enjoy this for a moment and still be a strong, capable, independent woman.
“Much better.” I shift to look at him as I speak, and his face is closer than I expected.
So close I could accidentally kiss him and no one on earth would suggest it was purposeful.
“I really want to kiss you right now,” he says in a low, rough voice.
“We agreed that’s a bad idea.” Sometimes I hate being the voice of reason.
He lets his forehead drop against mine. “Pretty sure we both have an affinity for bad ideas.”
He’s not wrong, but I’ve been trying so very hard to be good. I’ve been trying so hard and what has it gotten me? A job I can’t do in a town where everyone hates me and a sister who’s shut me out of her life. “What happens on vacation stays on vacation?”
He lifts his head to study my face and his smile blooms slow and sultry. “It will definitely make our fake relationship more believable.”
“Just promise me, this will end when we get back to Yuletide.”
He grins. “I promise not to become bewitched by your magic vagina.”
I reach up to slide my hand through his hair, but forget I have a glove on and end up batting him in the back of the head instead. He doesn’t seem to care. He tilts his head down and kisses me.
Just like the last time he kissed me, the outside world disappears.
It just feels so damn good.
There’s none of that awkwardness of first kisses, of figuring out how the other person moves and adjusting, or trying to force them to switch to my method with subtle hints.
He kisses me and all the built up attraction, mixed with months of animosity and annoyance, pops off like a toaster dropped into water. I’m lit up from the top of my head to my toes, and I just want more.
More of this feeling. More of this man.
But my fingers are encased in puffy gloves and I can’tdomore.
“I want to touch you,” I gasp against his mouth.
Somehow, he gets his hands free and slides a warm palm under my coat, sweater, and long underwear shirt until we’re skin against skin.
I can’t even think straight enough while I’m kissing this man to figure out how to get my damn gloves off.
He moves his hand up higher, lifting my layers, and ice cold air blasts the warmest, coziest part of me at the small of my back.
I let out an unholy shriek and try to burrow away from the cold and into him.
He laughs and pats my layers back down. “This isn’t the best place for this.”
“Maybe the real reason you didn’t use this as a make-out spot?” I ask, from my place cuddled against him. I really like it here. Too much.
