Page 22 of The Grinch and His Curvy Christmas Miracle
Her fingers tangle in my hair, tugging me down, pulling me closer, until there’s nothing between us but heat, want, and the dangerous truth in every breath we share.
Her sweater rides up under my hands, soft fabric giving way to bare skin. I groan against her mouth.
I trail kisses down her throat, tasting the heat blooming across her skin.
She shivers beneath me, legs wrapping tighter around my waist.
"Ryder..." she gasps when my hands slip beneath the hem of her sweater.
My voice is raw. "Tell me to stop."
She shakes her head, pupils wide and dark.
"Don’t you dare."
Her words ignite something in me. Possession.
I strip the sweater from her. Damn, no bra.
She’s beautiful. Glowing in the firelight. Soft in a way that makes my chest ache.
"Nikki..." Her name leaves me like it’s the only thing anchoring me to the ground. "You are so incredibly beautiful."
She reaches for me, guiding me back down, her body pressing into mine in a silent plea that wrecks every part of me I thought I’d locked down.
I lower my mouth and kiss over every inch of skin I can reach.
Her collarbones. The valley of her breasts. Her stomach.
She arches under me, gasping when my teeth graze a sensitive spot.
Her hands slip under my shirt, nails scraping lightly over my back, tracing old scars without fear.
She doesn’t flinch. She holds me tighter.
"You’re beautiful," she whispers like it’s the only truth she knows.
I freeze.
I’ve been called a lot of things. Strong. Damaged. Dangerous. But beautiful?
From her, it hits like a punch to the gut.
I look down at her.
Flushed cheeks. Kiss-swollen lips. Eyes full of trust I haven’t earned.
This is what it feels like.
To want someone so badly it steals your breath.
To need them like air.
And to know they need you right back.
My hand slides to her leggings. I hook my fingers under the waistband.
She gives a soft nod, lifts her hips. Trusts me.
