Page 41 of Snowed In
“You can’t buy my family’s love with sweaters,” he says, seeing straight through me.
“What about scarves?”
He just smiles. “You’re nervous.”
“Uh. Yeah.” Duh. “Of course, I’m nervous. You’re not nervous?”
“I have faith in you.”
“I have faith in me too, but I’m still nervous. I want them to like me. And we can learn as much about each other as we want, but we’ve still got to improvise.” All it takes is one slipup for someone to get suspicious, and if anyone finds out I pretended to be in a relationship to save face, then I definitely,definitelycan never step foot in my village again. “We should always hold hands,” I say. “All the time. Whenever anyone else is with us, we are holding hands.”
“Very normal behavior,” he agrees.
“You can also touch my hair. Add that to the list.”
“Okay, but you’re not going near mine.”
“Maybe we should have a diagram,” I add absently. “Or go over the appropriate touching areas so we can— What are youdoing?” I jolt as his hand lands on my thigh. Not my knee. Mythigh.His big broad palm heavy and warm, his fingers wrapped around my leg.
“I’m touching you appropriately.”
“Inappropriately.” I fight the urge to clench my legs together, knowing if I did, it would just trap him there.
“Appropriately for a girlfriend I’m madly in love with,” he says. “You’re right; we can’t discuss PDA in contract terms every time I want to hold your hand.”
“Again, this isnotholding my hand.”
“So tell me to stop. We’ll practice now.” He drags his hand ever so slightly higher, moving closer to the danger zone. Even so, I bite my lip and say nothing, staying perfectly still until he hesitates, his eyes darting to mine.
“I didn’t say stop,” I say, and his gaze narrows as I start to smile.
“Okay, see that?” he asks. “That laughing? That is not an appropriate reaction to my seduction. You should be incredibly turned on right now.”
“Well, move those fingers more, and I might be able to make it more believable.”
He gives me a look, bringing his hand back to the gear stick as he returns his attention to the road. But I’m having too much fun now.
“What’s your favorite move in the bedroom?”
“Megan.”
“I’m serious. What if someone asks me? What if we’re having girl talk, and they ask me how good you are at sex?”
“I would hope you’d be charitable.”
“Come on.”
“I don’t have one.”
“Everyone has one. Tell me yours, and I’ll tell you mine.”
“Show me yours, and I might consider it.”
“That’s definitely not in the contract.”
He shakes his head but relents when it’s clear I’m just going to keep pestering him. “It depends on the girl,” he begins. “On what she likes to— What?” he asks, breaking off when I groan.
“On whatshelikes? Seriously? You’re such a liar.”
