Page 95 of Snowed In
“Not yet.” I shift a little in the seat, turning my body toward him. Christian watches me do it silently, his eyes drifting over my dress.
“You want to go back inside?” he asks eventually.
“No.”
“You want to—”
“I want to stay here,” I interrupt.With you.
A muscle jumps in his jaw, but still, he doesn’t move.
“How much champagne have you had?”
“Um.” I swallow, trying to remember. “Two glasses. Maybe three?”
“Are you drunk?”
“No.”
“Tipsy?”
“Not anymore.” It’s the truth. My head was light when we were dancing, but I’m pretty sure that was all the spinning. And the cold air blew any remaining fuzziness away. “I’m fine.”
“You sure?”
I nod, and he smiles. The genuine, heart-skip one that I want all to myself.
God, I love it when he smiles. I love it when he—
The noise I make when his lips meet mine would embarrass me in any other circumstance with any other man, but with Christian, I quickly forget about it as we collide in a messy, slightly desperate way that sends a bolt of heat through me.
His fingers delve into my hair as he deepens the kiss, tugging gently as the pins come loose. I know they do because I can feel my hair start to fall from my careful updo, locks of it brushing against my shoulders, making me shiver.
This is new.
We haven’t kissed without reason before, without an audience, but there’s no one watching us now, no one to convince or deceive, just him and me and the sudden harshness of our breaths when we come up for air.
My hands go to his jacket, and he rolls his shoulders, helping me take it off, as he climbs over to my side of the car. I start on the buttons of his shirt, and my fingers trail down before Christian pins my wandering hands to the seat. I gasp loud enough that he pulls back to look at me.
“Are you okay?”
“Do that again.”
“What?”
“New kink, new kink,” I tell him urgently, and he catches on, tightening his grip as he leans in to suck a hickey to my neck. All the blood rushes to that point, and I raise my hips instinctively, furious at the levels of clothing between us.
Why didn’t we do this before?
A fling. That’s what I want.
That’s what I’ve wanted since the night I bumped into him.
Christian releases my neck to capture my mouth, wasting no time as his tongue moves against mine, hot and heavy and skilled enough to make my head spin.
“Let me go,” I tell him, between licks and half bites, and when he does, I’m on him, nails sinking into his shoulder blades in a way that makes him shudder, as he finds the lever for the chair, and tilts us back a few inches.
I wriggle up as he moves fully over me, one hand fisting beside my head while the other tries to find an opening in my skirts. He doesn’t succeed.
