Page 47 of Christmas Criminal

But I love this side of him.

I run my hands along his strong chest, my hands dipping beneath his coat.

"Community service is fake anyway," I say, brushing my lips along the edge of his jaw.

"You're taking it seriously," he says.

I shrug. "I told my mom I'd go through with it. That's not reallytaking it seriously."

He gives me a flat look. "Hank is taking it seriously."

"Because he's in my mom's pocket. Or she's in his."

"If everyone else is taking it seriously, I need to take it seriously, too."

He seems resolute. And as much as I want to think I can change his mind, I kind of like that when he makes a commitment, he follows through with it.

"What about after?" I ask.

His head drops as he rests one hand on my hip, his eyes following the motion as his fingers dip beneath my coat.

His thumb rubs a small circle into my skin and every particle of my being focuses on that contact.

He looks up at me, his eyes finding mine. "After would be okay."

I nod, my hands trailing along his jaw, his neck, the thick muscles underneath his shirt that I'm desperate to kiss. I press my lips against his jaw. "And maybe one more to hold us over?"

His hand shoots to the back of my neck, holding me in place as he kisses me harshly. His tongue winds into my mouth, his breath running warm across my cheeks as he holds me against him.

When we break apart, he tugs my head into the crook of his neck, his arms strong around me. "How many hours do you have left?"

I laugh as his hands roam my body, groping at my ass and finding my waist underneath my coat. "Who's being tortured more here, me or you?"

His laugh is deep, more of a grumble than a laugh. "Seriously, Noelle. How long do I have to wait?"

His words send a rush of heat through my body as I imagine what it would feel like to truly betouchedby him. He's an unassuming math teacher on the outside, complete with his little Clark Kent glasses, but the way he grabbed me was rough. Like he knows how to touch a woman.

"I think I have twenty hours left. Ish."

"Are you here for the weekend?" he asks, his lips brushing against the skin of my neck in a way that has each of my muscles taut, ready to pounce on him.

I nod.

"So in theory, you could be done Sunday."

"I mean, if you think you can come up with enough community service activities to fill up twenty hours overone weekend, sure. But that's a lot. And you were already running out of ideas."

He shrugs, nipping lightly at the skin of my neck. "Maybe I'll have you sit there for twenty hours so I can stare at you."

"That doesn't sound like it serves the community."

"It serves me," he offers, and something about that sounds deliciously naughty.

"Just say the word," I say, my hand running through his hair as his lips leave goosebumps along my skin.

He groans. "You can't say things like that, Noelle."

He steps away from me, taking his glasses off with one hand and running his other through his hair. He looks disheveled, a little tortured.

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