Page 68 of Never Sleigh Never
My eyes narrow to slits. “You wouldn’t dare?—”
“One.”
Before I can finish, his hands cradle my face and his mouth crashes to mine. The kiss is molten—slow, deep, devastating in the best way. So this is what it’s like when your enemy detonates your brain with his mouth. It melts years of irritation into something hotter, something that makes my knees weak and my head spin. The man who’s mastered pushing my buttons is now nailing every single one that turns me on.
He pulls back, but he doesn’t let go of my face. Instead, he brushes his thumb over my cheek, tender and careful. “We’ve fought about a lot of stupid things. But none of that’s real. This? This is.”
He lifts my phone, scrolling. “She twisted my words for clicks. What I actually said?” He holds the screen up. “That you’re smart. Beautiful. Generous. That’s why I’m here tonight—because I can’t stop thinking about you. And if it’s you against the world, I want to be right there at your side.”
His eyes wander over me like I’m the answer to a question he’s been asking his whole life. I don’t even know the question, but I desperately want to be the answer.
His finger slides over my temple as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “For the past few weeks, you’ve been the best distraction. I’ve been able to get out of my own head for once.”
“Life has certainly been more…” I purse my lips together, searching for the right words, “entertaining since you’ve come back to town.”
He cups my cheek, and I lean into his warmth. “We have a connection. I feel it. I know you feel it. I don’t want to fight it anymore.”
Twisting my head, I press a kiss to his palm. He’s right. Whatever hate I’ve harbored toward him has shifted to something that’s the complete opposite. “I believe you.” We’ve been through a lot, not only regarding the festivals, but our whole lives. I lift my chin, my lashes fluttering open with my gaze lingering on his.
“If you keep looking at me like that, we’ll be staying in Santa’s Workshop until the sun comes up.” He presses his lips to my forehead in a chaste kiss. “I’m glad you believe me. If you didn’t,” he rests a finger under my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes, “I’d have to give you another orgasm to show you how much you should believe me.”
“Fine.” I hop onto the table, spreading my legs with a wicked grin. “I don’t believe you.”
His laugh rumbles against me as he steps between my thighs, cupping my face. “God, I want nothing more than to feast on you all night. But I have to pick up Josie. I’m already late.”
My eyes scan his, searching for any signs of insincerity. Earlier, he asked me if I trust him, and I do. Since whatever is happening between us is so fresh and new, I haven’t even had the chance to fully wrap my head around it. Again, I spent so many years believing one thing about this man, and I was completely wrong. “Are you going to tell them about this?”
“Do you want me to?”
“Actually, what if we just keep this between us for right now?”
“Oh, so you just want to go back to hating me again?”
“It’s kind of fun. And we haven’t gotten to the hate sex yet.”
“You best believe I will hate sex the fuck out of you. Just tell me the time and place.”
A giggle bursts out of me. I’m half tempted to say right now, but I need to deal with one emotion first before I bring on a slew of others. “For now, you should get going so you’re not any later. Then you’d really have some explaining to do.”
“Fuck. You’re perfect.” He grips my chin and presses his lips to mine.
He pulls away, but I don’t want him to. Instead, my lips chase his like an overeager puppy. When my lashes flutter open, he’s staring at me with a look that shouldn’t belong to my supposed rival—adoration. “I’m really not.”
“To me, you are,” he says like he’s stating a fact.
My brain short-circuits. So naturally, I go for humor. “Get out of here before I tie you up with Christmas ribbon and keep you as my sex hostage.”
His grin tilts, cocky. “If that’s a threat, it’s a pretty bad one.”
I laugh, pushing at his shoulders. “Go.”
“Okay, okay.” He chuckles as I spin him toward the door and shove. “I’m leaving.”
The second he disappears into his truck, I sag against the door, grinning like an idiot. Logan and me putting aside our differences for a common goal. Never say never. Granted, I didn’t expect that goal to be orgasms, but honestly? Best. Goal. Ever.
I push off the door. I need to finish wrapping presents so I can get home and go to bed. Tomorrow is the snowman-making contest, and it will be the biggest one yet; over two hundred people have signed up.
The next morning, I wake up dry-humping my pillow with vivid flashbacks of Logan’s tongue. The man put his mouth to very good use last night. Better than all the hours he’s spent arguing with me. But if he wants to use that tongue after every argument, I will pick a fight with him every single day.
