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Now he’s definitely amused. “You name your vibrator?”
“Of course. We’ve got to know each other very well over the past twelve months.”
He gives a short laugh.
I lean my chin on my hand. “I’m guessing you’ve been developing the muscles in your right wrist?”
He doesn’t confirm it, but his wry smile tells me I’m right.
I study his mouth. “That’s so fucking hot.”
“So’s the thought of Mr. Buzz doing his job.”
I giggle.
In answer, he slides his hands under my upper arms and lifts me easily up his body, turning and stretching out so we’re half-lying on the sofa with me on top. Then he slips his hand behind my head and brings my head down to kiss me.
When he touches his tongue to my bottom lip, I open my mouth, and he slides his tongue inside.
Mmm… this is bliss. It’s warm and cozy, and the flickering lights cover us in a Christmassy glow.
We’re only about ten seconds in, though, when he moves his head back and says, “Wait a minute.”
Surprised, I watch as he picks up his phone from the coffee table. He taps on the screen a few times, then scrolls down. Is he checking his messages? That doesn’t say much for my kissing technique.
But then music starts playing—it’s Nat King Cole singingThe Christmas Song. Alex puts the phone back on the table and smirks before he returns his hand to my hair and resumes kissing me.
Oh, okay, yeah that’s nice.
We kiss for ages, taking our time, unhurried and sensual, while the music changes toWhite Christmas, and thenO Tannenbaum. Occasionally I lift my head to look at him, and he slides a strand of my hair through his fingers while we study each other’s faces. I discover he has a chickenpox scar on his temple, and I brush my fingers across the stubble that’s just starting to show on his jaw. He presses his lips to the mole on my cheekbone, and then kisses back to my mouth again.
At one point I move back and say, “Finn asked if we were going to make out.”
“Smart lad.”
I stroke his cheek. “Thank you for being so cool with him. He asked you some pretty embarrassing questions.”
“I don’t get embarrassed about the human body. He can always talk to me about anything.”
I frown, puzzled, scraping my nail against his bristles. “You’re such an unusual guy. So quiet and unassuming, but smart, and gorgeous, and incredibly generous.”
“If you’re trying to get in my boxers, you should know I’m a sure thing.”
I giggle. “Really?”
“Oh yeah. I’ve waited a long time to get you into bed, so when we’re ready, you’re not going to be able to stop me.”
My heart gives a little leap. “You really have a high libido?”
“Yep.” His eyes crease at the corners as he smiles.
“Ooh.” I moisten my lips with the tip of my tongue. “How often do you like to have sex?”
“As often as I can get it.”
“So more than once a week, then?”
He laughs. “Yes, Missie. More than once a week would be cool.”
