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“I work. I’ve worked every holiday for the last four years. It’s not like I was going to my parents’ house. I figure I may as well volunteer to take the jobs and give someone with kids a chance to spend the holidays with them.”

Logan’s response tugs at my soul. I can’t imagine not having anyone I’d want to spend time with. I wonder about his friends, but I don’t ask.

“Nope. Not this year. You’re officially invited to spend the holidays with my family. They’re crazy, but I think you'll like them.”

His smile is almost sad, but his words hold a touch of gratitude.

“I’ll have to put a request in, but I’d like that. I’d like that very much.”

Chapter Twelve

I surprisemyself when I accept Skye’s invitation to spend Thanksgiving with her. Hearing about her family and seeing the love she holds for them in her eyes touches something inside me. It makes me realize how very lonely I am, how very lonely I have been—not only for the last four years, but most of my life.

She’s all smiles when we stop by my truck, and I unlock the passenger door for her. But I don’t open the door just yet. I brace myself on the truck, my arms on either side of her head, and lean in.

Her eyes widen at my proximity, and she bites her lower lip, but she doesn’t look away, and I’m lost in the clear blue of her eyes. I have to hold in a groan. I want to bite that lip. I want to kiss her and find out if she tastes as sweet as I think she does.

I want to dive in head-first and run like hell. I know I don’t make any sense. I spent far too long keeping everyone at an arm’s length, and I do a damn good job at it. I have to learn to trust again. I have to learn how to let someone in.

No. Not someone.Her.

Skye awakens something in me. Something I can’t name quite yet.

I lean in a little closer still but hold off from touching her. I’m glad she’s keeping her eyes on mine, because if she looks down, she’ll get an eyeful. If my dick had hands, it would be opening the zipper from the inside.

“I want to kiss you, Skye.”

“Okay.”

“Is that a yes?”

When it comes to sex, I don’t want vague responses. Everything about Skye’s body is saying yes, but I need to hear the words. I want her to trust herself and take charge of her needs and wants. I’ll hold off until she’s ready if I have to.

She bites her lip again and her eyes start to drop. No, that’s not good. The situation south of my belt hasn’t changed.

“Skye?”

She looks back at me again.

“I won’t push you into doing anything you don’t want to or aren’t ready for. Don’t feel obligated because we’re on a date and I said I want to kiss you. You don’t owe me anything. I can wait until—”

She surprises the hell out of me.

With her feet on tiptoes and her small hands on my chest, she kisses me. It’s shy and tentative, but so fucking sexy, I groan. It takes everything in me not to press her against the truck and dry hump her in the parking lot.

I’m so fucking over my head in this. She tastes even better than I imagined and I haven’t touched her tongue yet. I can feel her pulling away, and my hands go to her face, keeping her in place. I gently guide her and my tongue slips past her lips. My mouth tastes hers. She moans. I’m completely immersed in her, in her taste, in her orange flower scent, in the softness of her skin under my hands.

Her arms go around my neck and she pulls me closer. There’s zero space between us now. Her small frame curves into mine, the heat of her body setting my own on fire. One of my hands finds its way around her back and the other behind her head, and I pull her into me even closer.

Jesus! This is supposed to be just a taste. Just a chaste kiss. And now, I’m practically fucking her mouth with mine. I feel like an asshole, but she’s taking all I give her and giving it right back.

This kiss went from PG to XXX so fast, I half expect to hear a sonic boom.

There’s no sonic boom, but there are some honks and whistles.

Reality crashes over us then. We break the kiss but don’t pull apart. She hides her face in my chest, and we stand there for a couple of minutes, catching our breaths, willing our hearts to slow down. I can’t help running my fingers through her soft hair. The color’s more golden under the light of the afternoon sun.

She makes a move to pull away from me. Her eyes are still downcast. Her lips are red and swollen, and some kind of caveman primal pride fills my chest with the knowledge that I did that. I left my mark on her somehow.