Page 29 of Italian’s Christmas Acquisition

“Well, you didn’t kiss me until you had a fever, so we can’t prove it, can we.”

“You are a silly girl, and unless you want to find yourself flat on your back in front of that fireplace, I suggest that you stop pushing me.”

Her hands had been so soft on his skin. The way that she had cared for him... No one else had ever done that. It was that caring hand on his face, that was what had undone him upstairs. That sweet way that she had touched him. It left him feeling... Not himself. It left him feeling on edge.

Because he understood attraction. But there was something else with her. Everything he had said was true. She was tiny. And she had been dressed like a reindeer. Nothing about that should appeal to him. And yet she did.

The easiest thing would be to kiss her. The easiest thing would be to reduce it to sex. Because that was what he understood. That was the connection he always had with women. The only physical touch that had ever existed in his life.

Not this...soothing of his fevered brow. Not this...wide-eyed country girl care that she was forcing upon him.

“Who says I don’t want that?” she asked breathlessly, her eyes round as copper coins.

“Do not push me,” he said. “I knew exactly what I was doing. I am not a nice man.”

“I already know that. You’re trying to take my home from me. But you also took care of me when I was unwell.”

“I am a man with a strong sense of honor, but that doesn’t make me nice. And it doesn’t make me good. Do you know how many women I’ve had?”

“No. Because you didn’t tell me. And the internet wasn’t really forthcoming with information about you.”

He lifted a brow. “You googled me?”

“Well yes. Obviously.”

“There is nothing obvious about that.” Or perhaps there was, and most people simply wouldn’t admit to such a thing.

“There should be,” she said.

She was entirely artless. And he was a brute. But he was giving her a chance. A chance to turn away from this. To turn away from him. Yes. He was giving her a chance to make a wise decision, rather than a foolish one. And if she was a fool, then it was on her head. Her...antlers.

It was not up to him to protect her from him. He was giving her ample chance. Ample choice.

“I... I want you,” she said.

Her face turned scarlet.

“Why?” he asked.

“You’re... A handsome, mysterious stranger. Who wouldn’t want that?”

That made sense to him. And he latched onto it. He wasn’t special. She wasn’t romanticizing this, not beyond the sexual fantasy inherent in sleeping with someone that you ought not to.

He wanted her, because he wanted this to make sense. And it did make sense. They were a man and woman snowed in together, so why shouldn’t they?

She wasn’t special. This was biology. He was not special to her. He was simply an object of desire.

He could understand that.

It pleased him.

He moved closer to her, and gripped her chin, tilting her face up and forcing her eyes to meet his. “That’s what you want, then? The fantasy. Snowed in here at the top of this mountain? Does your snowplow actually work?”

She huffed a laugh. “I wish that I was that crafty, but I’m not. We really are stuck here. It’s really... All of this, but my life is very unexciting. This is the most exciting thing that’s ever happened. And I...” She looked up at him. “Am I worthy of a little bit of excitement?”

“You are worthy of being worshiped,” he said. “Let me show you.”

He dipped his head and kissed her lips. They were softer than he remembered. She was soft. He pulled her against him, moving his hands over her curves, bringing her flush against him. He held her tightly.

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