Page 74 of Snowed Inn

I accidentally smack my own face.

Lightly. Just a cheek tap, really.

But still.

His brows go up. Mine probably go crooked. This is fine. Everything’s fine.

Then he cocks his head. “I’m not sure you could handle my kiss, city girl.”

Shit. He knows I love a challenge. “Try me,” I whisper. He’s been dangling this in front of me for days, pulling back just when I thought he’d cave. It’s maddening. I need this kiss like oxygen, like proof that I’m not imagining all of it. If he doesn’t kiss me soon, I swear I’ll combust right here against the bar.

He pushes himself back up to full height and tosses the bar towel over his sculpted shoulder. “I don’t think so. Not tonight.”

Not tonight? I frown. Does that mean some other night?

Within two seconds, he has disappeared behind the door to the back. I am left blinking and totally frustrated. Within two more seconds, I’m on the other side of the bar and I push open the door and stalk inside.

He disappears down a corridor, and I follow—straight into a storage room lined with refrigerators and stacks of cider palettes.

His expression flickers—shock, then something sharper. “Go back to the bar, Maria.” His tone is low and warning.

“No way. I’m not leaving without a kiss.”

His hands move to his hips. “I don’t take advantage of drunk women.”

He doesn’t know Sober Me has wanted this kiss for days. I put my hands on my hips too. “First, I am merely tipsy. Not drunk. Second, do you want to kiss me?”

He lifts his cap, scrubs a hand through his hair, replaces it, and groans. “I think you know I do.”

“Fine.” I slam the door shut behind me and lock it with the dead bolt. “We’re not leaving till you kiss me.”

“Come on. That’s not fair.”

“Life’s not fair,” I say, echoing his words from the other night. Ooh, I am smug. Smug and getting smugger. “I mean it. One kiss. Just a simple kiss. That’s hardly taking advantage. I’m not asking you to go to bed with me.”

“One kiss?” he clarifies, his voice low and rough, like he’s already considering the damage this might do.

“Yes.” I nod, my pulse thundering in my ears.

“If I kiss you, will you go back to the inn? Will you go to bed?”

“Yes,” I assure him. I want this kiss so bad I’d agree to just about anything right now to get it. No hesitation.

“Fine.”

“Excellent. Then, I think we should—”

But I don’t even get to finish my sentence before he moves.

One moment, I’m in control—and the next, Jesse has seized the reins. He yanks me into his arms, spins me around, and shoves me back against one of the stainless-steel refrigerators like he’s done this a million times before.

A small gasp leaves me as the cold metal presses against my back, a stark contrast to the absolute furnace that is Jesse. He’s crowding into me, caging me in with his body, his hands braced on either side of my head. He’s so close, his chest brushes against mine with every breath, and I swear I can feel the heat radiating from him through my clothes.

And then, just before he kisses me, he murmurs, “Open for me.”

Oh, God.

Do I love it when a man is commanding in bed or in a kiss? Yes. Yes, I do.