The world outside could have disappeared for all I care.
The only thing that exists now is the heat crawling over my skin and between the few inches separating us.
“Careful. You might be starting something you can’t get out of,” Dean says as he steps closer, each word a slow drawl that sends a shiver down my spine.
I should laugh it off. Step away, pretend it’s just a joke, but instead I find myself whispering back, “Maybe I don’t want to.”
His breath catches in a small, sharp hitch that feels louder than any scream.
Grant says my name again, sharper this time, a warning laced in steel, but his voice sounds distant and muted like it’s coming from somewhere far away.
Right now, Dean’s the only thing I can focus on.
The only thing I canfeel.
His hand rises, fingers brushing along my jaw before settling there. His palm is warm, calloused just enough to make me shiver when his thumb traces the edge of my cheek.
The gesture is careful, almost reverent, and yet the look in his eyes says,Don’t think for a second I won’t ruin you with this.
His mouth crashes against mine without warning.
It’s a shock at first, a collision of our breath and the heat from our lips, laced with something too wild to name.
Oh, god.
Ohgod,it’s hot as hell.
His lips are firm and demanding, and when he tilts his head just slightly, deepening the kiss, the air around us ignites.
The taste of him is dizzying, a smokiness to the alcohol he’d been drinking only a few minutes ago mixed with something sharp that’s entirely him.
My hands find his chest before I can think, fingers curling into the fabric of his button up because I need something solid to hold on to.
He groans softly against my mouth, the sound vibrating through me until I feel it everywhere.
His thumb strokes over my skin again, gentler now, in stark contrast to the way his lips part mine with the sweep of his tongue.
Heat flares under my skin, spreading fast, and every thought I’ve ever had about playing it safe goes up in flames.
This isn’t teasing anymore.
This isn’t a game.
Whatever this is, whatever line we just crossed, there’s no pretending anymore.
3
DEAN
Her lips are softer than I expect them to be.
For a heartbeat, it’s just supposed to be a joke. A harmless, mistletoe-infused cliche to make everyone laugh.
But the moment she tilts her chin up, eyes flashing that little spark of challenge, and suddenly it isn’t funny anymore.
When my mouth touches hers, something in me lights up like a struck match.
It’s supposed to be lighthearted, a teasing peck that earns me a shove and an eye roll before we all sit down and joke about it later over cups of cocoa and another bad Christmas movie. But it doesn’t go that way.
