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It’s just… something about the slide of those long, thick fingers between mine is sending screwy signals through me. Tightening things that have no place getting tight or achy.
“We’re about to hit this crowd with so much PDA they’ll be begging us to stop. We won’t have a single glass clinking for the rest of the night.”
I blink. “Umm—”
But before I can remind him this crowd is my family— like my dad is literally ten feet away —he pulls my hand to his mouth and, meeting my eyes with the dark mischief of his own, hebitesthe fleshy tip of my middle finger.
My breath halts completely. But not his. No. Our eyes are locked together as the warmth of his breath teases the tender space between my fingers, licking past my palm to the sensitive skin of my inner wrist.
I—
That’s—
He—
He winks and then spins me around to tuck me, back to front, into the hold of his body.
Mouth at my ear again, his voice low, amused, he says, “See?”
I don’t see anything. My entire awareness is fixed on the hot press of his body against mine. The fit a little too good.
“They all put their little spoons down.”
I scan the tables around us. “Oh my God, you’re right.”
My uncle actually pushed his spoonaway.
“Mmhmm. And I didn’t even do anything that crossed a line.”
“Well…”
He huffs a half laugh, and with the way I’m wrapped so tight in his arms, I feel it all the way through me.
It’s really nice.
“What? There weren’t any lips.” And yep, now I’m hit with the mental image, Tumblr-slow, of that criminally sexy mouth rubbing against my fingers. “No tongue.” Licking between them.
His voice drops even lower. “I didn’tsuckanything.”
Okay, and that next visual doesn’t even include my hands.
“Stormy?”
I nod to let him know I’m listening since no way do I trust my voice right now.
“You okay? Your breathing got a littlefunnythere a second.”
My jaw drops, and I turn my head to see him. And yeah, that twitching corner of his mouth totally matches the barely restrained laughter behind his words.
“Oh, you’redone.”
He looks out over the party. Shakes his head. “Not quite. Table at ten o’clock. White hair. Pink rhinestones. Dessert fork on the rise.”
“Great Aunt Edith. Mom’s side.”
“I got this.”
Again, I’m not entirely following until I feel those arms that are already holding me so close, shift and slide, tightening around me even more. His fingers splay wide, curving around my hips in a hold that is somehow both incredibly intimate and shockingly chaste at the same time. And then he’s dropping kisses against my hair.
