Page 121 of Make You Mine This Christmas

‘Ominous,’ she croaks. ‘And you’re even dressed like gender-swapped Loki at a Christmas party.’

She is desperately trying to ignore how good Kit looks in the velvet wrap dress. How her soft hair shimmers, and how good she smells.

‘I was going more for Hera, seeing as green is my colour.’

It is. It is, Haf thinks, her mouth dry.

‘So, you’ve brought me in to your secret hideout to what? Be nefarious? Aid and abet in your hiding? Is this now technically a game of sardines?’

With a finger against Haf’s lips, Kit hushes her, and Haf is pretty sure, certain even, that this might be the end of her. ‘Shh.’ The command sends shivers down her spine.

‘I’m shushed,’ she whispers.

‘I brought you in here because I realised there probably wasn’t anywhere else I could do this without us getting caught.’

And before Haf can say anything else or spontaneously combust, Kit reaches up for her face and pulls her into a deep, soft kiss.

Kit’s mouth is warm against her own. Haf breathes her in. The kiss tastes like the sweet berry flavour of Kit’s lipstick, which is definitely smearing all over them both.

Through her horny fugue, her last brain cell bleats that this is a bad idea. They are crossing a boundary that can’t be uncrossed.

Sheshouldstop. Anyone could walk in.

But she doesn’t want to.

‘Kit,’ she whispers, and Kit’s kisses her deeper, hungrier. Haf gives in to it. How can she not?

There is nothing in the world that can stop this kiss.

Chills run down her back as Kit clutches at her hair. A gasp escapes her lips.

‘The door,’ she whispers.

‘It’s locked,’ Kit says, nuzzling into her neck and nipping at the soft skin with her teeth.

And with that little bite, everything else falls away.

Bottles clink as Kit presses her up against the shelves. For the first time, she is really aware of their height difference, as Kit seems to tower over her, an arm slung against the shelves over her head.

In her mind, she sees blankets clutched in fists, and Kit’s dark hair spread out across a pillow.

The spark between them rages, licking at her wide-awake nerves. Her whole body feels on fire, and aching heat gathers between her legs. God, does Haf want her.

She wraps a thigh around Kit, drawing her hard against her body. Kit’s sharp hips answer her own with a soft grind that makes her want to moan.

‘Kit,’ she whispers again.

‘Shut up,’ Kit replies softly through the kiss. ‘Unless you want to stop?’

It’s a purred question through their kisses, and obviously, Haf doesn’t want to stop.

‘No, I don’t want to stop.’

With the hungriest look, Kit draws back so their kiss-bruised lips are moments apart.

‘You have two options,’ she purrs. ‘Do you want to keep talking, or do you want me to fuck you?’

Kit’s fingers glide into the soft crevasse where belly and hip meet, in which lies the elastic edge of her knickers.