Page 36 of Not Your Average Vixen
Bridget
“Frosty the Snowman.”
She hummed a happy little sigh as the song, good old “Frosty the Snowman,” one of her childhood holiday favorites, played in the background. She snuggled in as warmth radiated around her body. This is what she needed. She patted the blanket, then twisted her fingers into the comforter. The music stopped and a peaceful sigh vibrated through her body. Only, she wasn’t the one doing the sighing this time.
“Just look at you two! Like two chestnuts, cozied up and roasting on an open fire. Take your time. I’ll bring your bags in.”
“Thanks, Dan,” she answered on a dreamy exhale at the same time as a voice, much lower than hers, offered the same reply.
She opened her eyes a sliver, but all she could see was black. She shifted a fraction as her sleep haze cleared and one very warm, very familiar hand rested on her shoulder. She held her breath and experienced the gentle rise and fall of her hotel hottie and now, mortal enemy, Soren, the worst best man, Rudolph’s, chest as he slept peacefully.
She wiggled, trying to break free of his iron grip.
“Let go of me!” she shrieked.
The man startled, but instead of letting go, he tightened his grip.
“If you squeeze any harder, there’s a good chance you’ll end up with banana all over your fancy coat!” she warned, hating that it wasn’t the fruit she was thinking about while wrapped in his strong embrace.
Immediately, his arms flew open, and she tumbled back, but not before grabbing onto his elbow and pulling him over to the other side of the car. He landed, sandwiched in next to her, and in a frantic tangle of limbs, she extricated herself from beneath Soren’s large frame.
Not that he was crushing her. She’d spent a good deal of time under his toned, muscled body last night.
Washboards would be jealous of this man’s abs.
And her banana had nothing on this hotel hottie.
Ugh! Stop!
She shook her head, trying—without much luck—to get this man’s body off her mind.
“What were you thinking?” she cried, staring him down in an attempt to recalibrate her raging libido. He was no longer her sex machine, orgasm-inducing handsome stranger.
No, he was the devil.
He smoothed his coat. “For the record, you fell asleep on me.”
She scoffed. “No, I wouldn’t do that.”
There was no way she’d migrated toward this moron, not even in her sleep, would she?
“Yeah, you did,” he countered, looking all smug and handsome—the jerk!
She lifted her chin. “Why didn’t you just push me back over to my side?”
That sexy smirk stretched across his cat-who-ate-the-canary face as his equally sexy dimple made an appearance. “I tried. You kept coming back for more. Even in your sleep, you can’t get enough of me.”
Heat rose to her cheeks. This cuddle bug bastard was asking for it!
She glanced out the window as Dan disappeared into the mountain house with their bags.
Good! They were alone now. And this was the perfect time to lay down the law.
Vixen mode on.
She leaned in. “Maybe you can’t get enough of me.”
His cocksure expression vanished as a muscle ticked on his perfect chiseled cheek, and his tanned complexion grew rosy.
