Page 38 of The Christmas Cookie Crush

Reaching over, she unbuckles my seatbelt too, and I catch it, letting it reel in more slowly, my eyes glued to her as she shifts closer to me. “What are you doing?” My voice comes out as little more than a rasp, the air frozen in my chest.

There’s that cheeky grin again. “Well, we’re at the town make-out spot. I’m moving closer so we can make out.”

Then her hand cups my cheek, and she pulls my mouth to hers.

I’m not sure what to make of this or what to do at first. Making out in the car while parked next to a giant snowbank on the edge of the road doesn’t seem like the wisest choice.

But her lips feel like heaven against mine, and her cool fingers slip behind my neck, caressing my hair and holding me in place so she can kiss me.

God, I really like it when she takes charge like this. It’s so fucking hot.

Almost of their own volition, my hands reach for her. One hand goes to her waist, the other under her arm to her upper back, pulling her closer.

Breaking the kiss, she pulls back and gives me a smile.

But I’m not interested in smiles. Not right now.

Right now I want her lips on mine, her taste on my tongue, her body in my hands.

Her coat’s in the way, though. I wish she weren’t wearing a coat.

Like she can read my thoughts, she releases me, sitting back just enough to undo the belt of her coat, and I immediately reach inside, greedy for the feel of her.

We’re kissing again, and I hear the zipper of my coat going down, the sides of it loosen, and then her hands are inside my coat too.

“I want to feel your skin,” she whispers into my mouth.

I groan in response, unable to form coherent words.

And she seems to take that as agreement because the next thing I know, she’s tugging my shirt up and moving her hands beneath it. That doesn’t seem to be good enough, though, because she lets out a sound of frustration then reaches for the buttons.

When I try to help, she swats my hands away, leaving me laughing lightly in surprise and uncertainty. “Take off your coat,” she whispers, shoving it off my shoulders.

I stutter and stammer, but she’s undeterred, so I do as ordered. Until my elbow bumps the horn, and the loud blast makes us both freeze, her wide eyes staring into mine.

Then she collapses against my chest in a fit of giggles.

After a moment, she straightens and kisses me again. “Move your seat back.”

“Huh?”

She giggles again. “Your seat. Move it back so we have more room.”

“Oh, right.” Reaching down with my left hand, I grope for the switch, and it seems to take forever for the little motor to move the seat back as far as it can go.

“Much better,” she whispers, and while I don’t entirely understandwhywe’re whispering, it does seem more fitting given the dark and the snow and the silence surrounding us.

While I move my seat back, she unbuttons my shirt. At first I thought she’d be satisfied with just a few buttons, but no, it’s all the way undone, and her cool hands caress my torso, roaming over my chest and then farther south.

I tense as she gets closer to my belt buckle, but she doesn’t go much lower than my belly button, caressing just below it, and I let out a shuddering breath.

Moving away, she takes off her coat and tosses it onto her seat. When she kneels on her seat facing me, I look at her, my brows coming together in confusion. “What are you doing?”

She pauses, looking at me. “Well, I was going to climb onto you. I feel like it would be better, don’t you?”

“Oh.” I swallow, then nod. “Yeah. Okay.”

She giggles again. “You really haven’t had a car make-out session before, have you?”

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