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Yes, please, I want his holy penis.
Inside me.
Right now.
I slide my hands under his shirt.
He groans again, arching into my touch, and nips at my collar bones. “You’re infectious laughter.”
I press kisses to the rough skin on his jaw. “I’m ridiculous.”
He presses his hard-on into my belly and licks the hollow at the base of my neck. “You’re hope and light and courage and you are completely and totally irresistible.”
“Trevor.”
“I can’t resist you anymore, Meg. I’ve tried. I’ve lied to myself for weeks—years—but I can’t do it anymore. Jude’s gonna kill me, and I don’t care.”
I grab his cheeks. “This isn’t about my brother.”
Gah, those beautiful eyes.
Those heavy-lidded, smoky hazel eyes.
“I know,” he whispers.
“I want you to kiss me.”
“I want to kiss you and strip you naked and spend the entire holiday season with you in my bed.”
My vagina is throbbing, my skin is on fire and if he so much as caresses one of my breasts, I’m pretty sure I could come on the spot. “You want me.”
“I wanted to kiss you so badly last night, I could barely think straight.”
His hands roam my body, testing and squeezing and driving me crazy while I do the same to him. “So kiss me now.”
He does.
Oh, god, he does.
He kisses me slow and deep and thorough while he walks me backward into the living room, squeezing my ass, untying my apron and tossing it aside.
My shirt goes with my apron.
His shirt too.
I suck in a breath at the sight of the angry red scar on his shoulder, and he freezes.
“I’ll put my shirt back on,” he says.
“No.” I gingerly touch the raised skin. “Does it hurt?”
“Not there.”
I kiss it softly, my other arm wrapped around his waist. “You give your all. Every time. No matter the cost.”
“Meg—”
“That issosexy.”
