“Camera . . . app . . .” I squeak as he nips my neck.
“Mhmmm, very useful. You want to record this?”
“What? No!”
He chuckles and puts a little space between us.
“On my phone. The security app has the front and back of the house on it. So if I need to duck out, I can keep an eye on Dad. Since he has a history of running away.”
“So what you’re saying is that we can fool around for a little while and they will be okay outside?” One brow arches, the intensity of his gaze sending hot flushes through my body.
“Well, I’m not saying we can’t . . .”
“How very cryptic,Celeste.”
“Quinton.”
“You know, you don’t have to use every syllable in my name every damn time.”
I tilt my head. He wants me to?—
“Just Quin is fine, baby.”
“Oh,” I breathe as he eliminates the space between us.
“That okay with you?”
“Uh-huh.”
It’s all I can do to nod when his hands cup my face, and he claims my mouth. When he wants in, I open, melting against the marble countertop.
I’m on fire, and nowhere near close enough.
My clothes feel like sandpaper on my skin. Heat pools low in my belly, as his hand moves down my neck. My own are planted on his heaving chest. Every breath he takes rubs my now-hard peaks in the most torturous way. But he breaks away.
“No, please don’t stop,” I gasp.
“Fuck, I don’t ever want to do that... But you have far too many layers on.”
“It’s cold.”
He chuckles, leaning in close again. “I can think of a few ways to warm you up.”
Oh god.
I nip his jaw. “Then what are you waiting for?”
A warm hand slips under my sweater and shirt, caressing my belly with his knuckles. “Fuck, you are so soft. I can only imagine how incredible the rest of you is.”
“Only one way to find out, Quin.”
We both glance at my phone, checking the video footage. Maise and Dad are rounding up haphazard piles of snow. And they don’t have anywhere enough for one snowman, let alone two. We have heaps of time.
“Plenty of time,” Quin rasps. “How do want me to use it, CC?”
“Wisely?” I ask, screwing my face up.
He grumbles something before sliding his hands further up my belly. When his fingers meet my bra, they skirt the hard underwire before slipping underneath.
