Page 131 of Snowed In

I have no words.

Ronny Carmichaellikesme?Hasliked me… fortwoyears?

Inching forward, he tucks his hands in those stupidly hot sweatpants. “Do youhave togo?”

“No,” I rasp.

Ishouldgo. I should definitely go right home to see if I’m dreaming.

“Good.” Sighing in relief, he rests his forehead against mine and smiles.

When he draws back, there’s no doubt his gaze is fixed on my mouth. I know because I just stopped breathing. Is this really happening?

His hands cup the undersides of my forearms, eyes flicking to mine. They’re hesitant, yet hopeful. Seeking.

Holy shit. He’s going to kiss me.

His lips connect softly with mine. A gentle brush. Another. I open my mouth, gasping like a virgin in a Victorian novel, but it gives him further access.

His tongue slips past my lips, and nothing has ever tasted so sweet. Ronny Carmichael is fucking delicious. His tongue sweeping over mine has my legs threatening to give out.

Seriously, is this some kind of prank?

“Wait. Wait!” I urge him back.

“What’s wrong?”

“Why me?”

“Why youwhat?”

Sure. Here it is. The humiliating part. I knew it.

“Why… a chubby, curly-headed, picky…. set-in-his-waysme? You could have anybody.”

He scoffs, and then reaches out, stroking my cheek. “I think you’re sexy.” I let out a snort, but he silences it, running his thumb over my lips. “I think everything about you is sexy. The way you know your own mind, what you want. How you wouldn’t settle for some co-worker who was terrible at trying to flirt with you. How you look in on your mom and spend your free time making beautiful things to put out in the world.” Reaching up, his fingers gently dive into my hair. “And your curls… they drive me crazy,” he murmurs, sounding drugged. “You’re just…perfect.”

Perfect? Yeah, right. He has a curl fetish, huh? Is that what this is about? Granted, the other things he said were sweet, but… hello, this is me we’re talking about. I know how many people are standing in line for me. Zero.

“Yeah, I get that all the time.” I roll my eyes.

His brows knit together. Those deep brown eyes search mine, making me feel even more self-conscious. It is so time to grab my unsuitable coat now.

“You are,Marshall. Except for that…”

“What?”

“That defense mechanism you have where you don’t believe in yourself. Is that why you’re so standoffish sometimes? Because you don’t think people will like you for who you are?”

That isnota tear in my eye. It’snot.

“Because I do,” he assures me. “I like everything about you—except that. I wish you could see how amazing you are. I’d do anything to make you believe it.”

I’d like to say that Ronny moves first, but his siren words are to blame for the way I attack his mouth. But, hey… I’m‘perfect’, so I can do nothing wrong right now. It’s all I hear in my head as our tongues and arms tangle.

I’m perfect. Ronny thinks I’m perfect the way I am.

“Marshall,” he rasps, coming up for air.

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