“And you. You have a game tomorrow.”
“I do.” He sounds wistful, resigned. Maybe he’s thinking that takes tomorrow out of the running for a date since he’ll be working. He runs a hand over my arm. “We’ll have breakfast together though.”
“Does that mean you’ll wow me with an omelet with mushrooms and fresh-brewed gingerbread-flavored coffee to prove we’ve been fake-dating, since, I don’t know—the Candy Cane Diner?”
He growls. “The Christmas tree farm, Isla.”
“Whatever you say.”
“You’ll be saying it.”
“We’ll see,” I say.
“We sure will.”
I should close my eyes and go to sleep. Let him get his rest too. But with him here, it’s hard not to look. Or to touch.
Even in the dark, he’s heartbreakingly handsome. Or maybe especially because it’s dark. The moonlight highlights his strong cheekbones while a shadow falls across his chiseled jaw, covered in that scruffy beard.
I want to feel it everywhere. Along my thighs. On my stomach. Over my breasts. I reach for his face, running my fingers along his jawline, imagination running wild. I partmy lips, then nibble on the corner of them. A breath escapes me. Hot. A little stuttery.
He leans over me. “Good night, snow angel,” he says, then dusts his lips across mine—a melting tease of a kiss.
When he breaks it, he drags his beard across my chin.
My breath hitches.
Then he moves down me, pushing my cami lower and kissing the top of one breast.
It’s like he read my mind. Or maybe he just read my body.
Might as well be an open book.
I set a hand on his shoulder and push him down, down, down.
Before I know it, he’s tugging off my pajama pants, kissing me through my panties, then easing them off.
We don’t speak this time. Everything’s clear in the dark as I push him closer, rope my fingers into his hair, and murmur into the moonlight at the first flick of his tongue.
He groans. I gasp.
He spreads my legs wider. I tug him closer.
He kisses me ravenously. I arch into his mouth.
Soon, it feels like we’re fucking again as he eats me and I rock my hips into his face. I can’t get enough of him. And he goes down on me the same way—like I’m his last meal.
It’s never been like this with other guys before. We’re that in sync. Like he wants me the same way I want him.
I have to remember we’re just getting this out of our systems.
Truly I do.
Because he touches me like he’ll never get enough.
He wraps his hands around my ass. Yanks me closer. Consumes me.
He’s so shameless in his need that I’m shameless too.
