Page 35 of Nice Guys Don't Kiss Like That At Christmas
“That was a long time ago.”
“Not that long,” I murmur.“Not when I look at you and still see the woman who made me read unrealistic romance novels out loud at three in the morning.”
“Maybe they were.”And she shakes her head.“I’m hoping they weren’t.”
“They were educational,” I tell her, the tension between us shifting into something warmer, more familiar.“Especially Chapter 12 of—”
“Don’t you dare,” she warns, but her body relaxes against mine.
A smile forms on her face, like the Ghost of Christmas Past.It doesn’t last long.But when it fades, not from discomfort, but from the weight of what’s happening between us.
“Everyone’s always so careful with me now,” she says quietly.“Like I might break if they say the wrong thing.Look at me the wrong way.Even you—sleeping on the floor instead of just...”She trails off, gesturing vaguely between us.
Something clicks into place.
“I don’t want to be careful with you, right now, Eve,” I admit, surprising both of us with my honesty.I let my thumb trace the edge of her jaw.“Tell me what you want.”
“I want...”She hesitates, swallows.“I want someone who sees me.All of me.Who knew me before, during and still wants me now.”
Her hands slide up to my shoulders, her body swaying imperceptibly closer.“Tell me to stop,” she breathes, her lips a heartbeat from mine.
“Never,” I say, and mean it.
She hesitates.
Then, she leans in.Her breath hitches against my mouth, warm and shaky, like she’s trying to hold the entire moment in her lungs.
Like she’s asking a question she’s terrified to know the answer to.Like someone rejected her before.More than once.
Her lips brush mine once, then again.She pulls back, eyes searching, hands hovering like she’s waiting for permission to want this.So I bring my hand up, gently curl my fingers around the back of her neck.Anchor her there.Not forcing.Just holding.
“I’m going to kiss you back now,” I whisper.“Unless you don’t want me to.”
She swallows, fingers curling into my shirt.“I want you to.”
That’s all I need.
I slide my hand to her hip and pull her against me, my cock pressed against her belly through sweatpants that might as well not exist.
Then I kiss her—really kiss her—like I’ve waited seven years because I fucking have.
She gasps, the sound sharp and involuntary…then she crashes into me.
No hesitation.No easing in.Just raw, built-up need breaking wide open.
Her mouth opens under mine, hot and desperate, tongue sliding against mine like she already knows the rhythm.She grinds against me and I groan into her mouth, the friction a goddamn jolt through every nerve ending.My hands are under her shirt, dragging up the curve of her waist.Her skin is warm and impossibly soft, and I want more.All of it.
She arches into me like she’s offering it, like she needs to feel every inch of me pressed against her.Then she moans.
Low.Rough.Vulnerable.
The sound hits me in the chest and gut all at once.
And I lose it.
Tongue.Teeth.Clutching.Devouring.
Her breath, her taste, the way her body moves like it’s finally allowed to want mine back… seven years of tension explode between us, reckless and unstoppable.
