Page 48 of Christmas Criminal

All because of me.

"Sorry," I say.

"Twenty hours," he says, putting his glasses back on.

I nod in agreement. "Twenty hours."

He gives me one last kiss, his fingers digging into my skin and a groan slipping from his throat.

10

NICK

Saturday, December 14th

Ihave to keep my hands off of Noelle.

That's what I tell myself when I see her car turn into the high school parking lot and slowly head in my direction.

I spent most of my night trying to figure out ways we can actually help the community that don't leave us alone together. Because as tempting as it is to pull something out of my ass–mop the cafeteria, clean the bleachers, prepare pamphlets for the school play–I know that the second it's the two of us, every single one of my thoughts will be focused on the feel of her skin beneath my fingers. The way she moaned into my mouth when we kissed and hiked her knee up around my waist.

And I'm not sure I'll survive twenty hours of that.

She has a scarf high around her neck when she steps out of her car, an army green jacket covering her torso. She zips it up against the cold as she walks toward me, giving me a small wave as she starts up the stairs. I lean against the railing, my hands in my pockets so they don't magnetically attach to her hips.

"Good morning, Saint Nick," she says, a knowing smile skirting her face with the nickname.

There's no hiding what she does to me now.

"Criminal," I greet her, biting back my matching grin.

“So what delightful activity do you have planned for us today?” she asks. I detect a hint of subtext in her words, like she’s just daring me to say the naughty activities we could be doing if she wasn’t my criminal.

I smile, despite every muscle in my body itching to touch her. "We're heading back to the fair."

She raises her eyebrows and then narrows her eyes. "You seem too happy about this for it to be a fun thing."

My smile ticks wider. "Well, since I know howexcitedyou are to serve your community, I asked around to see if anyone needed help with their booths this weekend."

She purses her lips, waiting for the catch.

"And Hank said he could use a few volunteers to help hand out fliers."

Her face drops. "Nick!" She stomps. "You have to be kidding me."

A grin spreads across my face now. "And you're going to love the fliers we're handing out."

She presses her lips together, her jaw ticking. "What are the fliers?"

"It's an after-school program held at the police station for troubled youths."

Her eyes bore into mine. "Nick."

"And I thought, who better to hand them out than our very own town criminal?"

I eye her, searching for signs of steam coming out of her ears or boiling skin.

"Is this your own personal brand of torture?" she asks.

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