Page 40 of Theirs for the Holidays

His hands arewarm and rough as they cup my face, and I lean up into his body like I’m magnetized to him. There’s a draw there, a pull, and now that it’s started, I don’t want it to stop.

He kisses me, leaning down to meet me more than halfway, and I have a fleeting thought about how tall he is before his lips are on mine and every thought in my head completely disappears.

His mouth moves against mine, slow and confident. He clearly knows what he’s doing, clearly has a way he likes to do this, and I melt into him, letting him do what he wants. The kiss deepens more and more, his tongue flicking against my lips. I part them, letting him slide inside, and I moan into his mouth from the heat of it all.

One thumb slides over my cheekbone and that small gesture, just a tiny thing, ignites a fire in my belly that I can’t ignore.

I lean up, seeking out more touch, more of this heat, and Lennox gives it to me, kissing me impossibly deeper.

I’m suddenly seized with the desire to touch him, and I make it as far as letting my hands rest on his chest before I lose my nerve. I don’t really know what I’m doing, and the shyness stops me from doing anything that might be wrong.

Lennox chuckles against my lips. “You can move your hands,” he murmurs in that husky tone.

He pulls back a little, and I feel a quick rush of boldness.

“I will if you will,” I say.

He groans, and there’s an answering feeling of desire in me. He’s much less shy than I am about touching, his hands coming up to touch me, skating down my sides and over my curves.

His hands on me give me the boost I need to start touching him, and I let my hands wander. His skin is hot through the thin fabric of his t-shirt, and I can feel the way his muscles flex and shift while I touch him. I glide my palms over his arms, taking in his biceps and the handful of old scars that are scattered over his arms from a life spent being hands on with things.

It feels so good to touch him, and judging from the way his eyes flutter shut, he likes it too.

His mouth finds mine again, and this time I lean up even more to meet him. He touches my back, moving his hands lower to cup my ass, leaving me breathless. I squeeze his upper arms in response, caught up in the way he feels against me.

We end up moving, and I jump a little when my back hits the breakfast bar that separates the kitchen from the living room.

Lennox nips at my bottom lip, teeth sharp. I gasp into his mouth, my hips grinding forward of their own volition.

“You’re so soft,” he murmurs, dipping his head down to mouth at my neck. “And you smell so good.”

I moan a little, trembling against him. “I probably smell like vodka and sweat.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “No. You smell like something I want.”

That lights me up inside, and I can feel the wetness between my legs starting to grow. Heat is filling me up, threatening to spill over at any moment. My hips arch, my body grinding against his.

All thoughts of my car are forgotten—hell, my entire trip seems like a distant memory compared to this. This moment, right now, is the only thing that matters.

“Do you like this?” Lennox asks. One of his hands comes up, cupping my breast through my clothes. He skates a thumb over where my nipple is pressing hard against my bra, and it’s like I can feel it through the layers the way it gets hard and peaked.

“Yeah,” I pant, nodding.

“Good. You’re doing so good, Violet. Do you need more?”

I nod again, almost desperate for it.

“Good girl.”

Oh god. My knees threaten to give out when he says that. Something about that rough edged voice and that praise—forme—just makes me want to turn into a puddle in the middle of the floor.

That desperation kicks up a notch. I’ve never felt this good before. Never been teetering on the edge the way I am right now. I want more, just like I told him. I want more of the good feelings that he’s filling me up with.

Lennox gets his hands under my ass, and it takes me a second to realize he’s about to lift me up. “Oh my god!” I gasp. “I’m not light, Lennox.”

He just gives me a look and picks me up, setting me on the counter like I barely weigh anything.

There’s something so thrilling about it. About him picking me up and putting me where he wants me, and my heart is racing with anticipation.