Page 91 of Nice Guys Don't Kiss Like That At Christmas
Then she's kissing me, and it's different from last night.Slower, more deliberate.She tastes like chocolate and candy canes and Christmas, and I pull her onto my lap, her thighs straddling mine.This isn't desperate, frantic need.This is exploration.Recognition.Coming home.
"We should talk more," I murmur against her jaw.
"We will," she promises."But right now, I need you to touch me."
"Yes, ma'am," I drawl, and she laughs.But there's something different in it this time.Less edge.Less armor.
I peel her hoodie off, slow.Reverent.The fabric catches on her nipples, and the soft gasp she makes shoots straight to my already-harder-than-concrete cock.
A sudden scuffling sound breaks through the moment.We both turn to see LoverBoy in full attack mode, wrestling with one of my socks.He growls dramatically, shaking it like he's subduing a dangerous predator.
"Taking lessons from Dorothy, I see," Eve mutters, hastily tugging the hoodie back down."I should have asked Sally to take him, too."
LoverBoy pauses mid-stride, registering our attention.With deliberate eye contact, he trots directly to the bed and deposits the now-soggy sock right between us.
Eve snorts."I think he's trying to tell us something."
"That my sock drawer is under attack?Between him and Dorothy, I'll be barefoot by Christmas."
LoverBoy leaps onto the small step by the bed, to the footrest and onto the bed and promptly settles himself on Eve's lap, the sock still clutched possessively in his jaws.His tiny body vibrates with pride.
“I believe that’s Chihuahua for ‘back off, buddy,” Eve says, scratching behind his ears as he melts into her touch.
“He’s got the wrong idea about who’s in charge here,” I mutter, but there’s no heat in it.How can there be, when Eve’s looking at me like that?
“How about you go play with your toy,” Eve whispers.“And I’ll play with your vet.”
“Yes, please.”
She stands up and grabs one of those small Kongs that occupies LoverBoy for at least an hour and closes the door to the living area behind her.So when she comes back, we’re all alone.
I peel her hoodie off again.
Her breath catches, just like last time—forever ago but it was less than a month ago.
But this isn’t last time.
Not because last time didn’t matter—fuck, it did.But that was heat crashing into history.The culmination of years of want and missed chances.It burned fast and bright, like it had been waiting to happen since the second we first typed each other’s usernames.
But this, right now, is different.
This time, she didn’t have to come back.She could’ve walked out and never looked back.And maybe she’s still not sure what this is or where it’s going.But she’s here.
And that changes everything.
And I’m going to show her.
Chapter twenty-nine
ADAM
Iknowhernow.Not just the shape of her body, but the way her voice softens when she's tired.The precise curve of her smile when she's about to say something sarcastic but kind.The way she tries to hide her feelings behind clinical phrases, like "cortisol spikes" or "mild cardiovascular response," when what she really means is: I feel something and I don't know what to do with it.
Her eyes meet mine in the dim light, amber flecks catching the glow from the bedside lamp.She reaches up, tracing my jawline with her fingertips, a gesture so gentle it makes my chest ache.
"You're looking at me like that again," she whispers, her voice still rough from our earlier conversation.
"Like what?"
