Page 14 of A Cowboy Sugar Cookie Kiss
“I think so.”
“What’s wrong with you?” She plants her hands on hips. “This is where you invite me back to your room. Offer me a place to sleep and your strong arms to keep me warm. Hook your finger under my chin. Make my panties wet. You’re off. What’s going on?”
Aw, fuck.
“Cole?”
“Make your panties wet?” My tight jaw barely moves as I ask the question.
She smiles. Soft. Easily. Thanks to the liquid courage she’s downed. “I’m going to regret saying that in the morning.”
“I don’t want you to regret anything.” I rub the back of my neck. “Do you regret what happened in the prize room?”
Her eyes squint together like she’s recalling that night. A shade of pink touches her cheeks. “I don’t think regret is the right word.”
“What is the right word?”
She doesn’t answer me. Her glossy lips rub together. “Do you regret it?”
“Fuck, no,” I growl.
“Then yes, Cole. You make my panties wet. The question is”—she rubs her front against mine—“what are you gonna do about it?”
***
MAGGIE
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FUCK.
In a prize room.
In the elevator.
Hell, even in his suite.
That’s the response I’m expecting from the cowboy in front of me. He offered a mash and dash and I’m ready to claim my prize.
Hot desire dances in his eyes. Desire for me. And I wasn’t joking, I’m wet and waiting for him.
He slips his hand in mine. “We’re going to go for a walk.”
My insides ignite as we head to the elevator. I’m glad I showered and shaved for this. But his intentions are quickly questioned when he hits the lobby button.
“Why are we going to the lobby?”
“The outside Christmas light display is a good place for a walk.” His solemn tone lacks passion.
I retract my hand and turn to face him. “You literally want to go for a walk?”
“Yes.”
I open my mouth to tell him walking wasn’t what I had in mind. But then I decide to show him. I grab the front of his shirt, rise to the tips of my toes, and kiss him. The flavor of smoky whiskey takes my breath away. I’ve been craving his lips all night long. All week long. If I’m being honest with myself, all year long. I haven’t stopping thinking about him since last year’s prize room rendezvous. I hadn’t expected him to be thinking about me all year, too.
The kiss is hot and heavy. Like fire and water crashing together. The rush explodes through my body from my lips to my toes. His arm snakes around my waist and pulls me roughly against his front. His fingers score through my hair and pull my head to deepen the kiss. His tongue is as demanding as mine and for a second I think—hope—he’s going to take me in the elevator.
The idea is thrilling. Then the doors chimes open.
