Page 13 of Snowed in with a Grinch

“Dragged you?” He quirks an eyebrow, his hands sliding down to rest on my hips. “As I recall, you insisted on coming.”

“Well, I couldn't let you face the big bad generator alone, could I?” I step back, but my boot slips in the melted snow. Before I can fall, Sawyer's arms wrap around my waist, pulling me firmly against his chest.

“Careful,” he murmurs, but makes no move to release me. “I don’t want to lose you.” His voice has dropped to that deep rumble that makes my insides melt, and suddenly the cold is the last thing on my mind.

“I don't want to lose you either,” I whisper, my hands sliding up his chest to rest on his shoulders. The green gingerbread sweater is damp under my fingers, but I can feel the heat of his skin radiating through. “Sawyer, I...”

Words fail me as I stare up into his handsome face. The warmth and longing I see in his eyes makes my throat catch. His arms tighten around me, pressing me flush against his strong body. Every hard plane of him molds perfectly to my softer curves and I feel like I’m home. Like I belong with him.

“What is it, Noelle?”

“I…I think...” I swallow hard as I try to convey what I want in this moment. “I think I need to get out of these wet clothes.”

His pupils dilate, and his grip on my waist tightens fractionally. “Probably wise.”

Neither of us moves. The Christmas lights I strung earlier flash merry colors that flash against our skin, highlighting the strong planes of his face and the way he's looking at me likeI'm something precious. Something worth protecting. Worth keeping.

“Sawyer?” My voice comes out as barely more than a whisper.

“Yes?” His thumb traces small circles on my hip through my damp sweater, each movement sending sparks of electricity through my body.

“Kiss me again?”

He doesn't hesitate. His mouth claims mine, hot and demanding and perfect. I melt into him and I already know I'll crave this man for the rest of my life.

My hands slide up his chest, then higher to tangle in his hair, still damp from the snow. He groans into my mouth, the sound vibrating through me as his hands roam my curves. Everything about him is overwhelming in the best way—his scent, his taste, the way his strong body feels pressed against mine, the gentle rasp of his beard against my neck as he trails kisses down my throat.

“God, Noelle,” he breathes. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

“Show me,” I whisper back, tugging gently at his hair. “Please?”

In one smooth motion, he lifts me into his arms like I weigh next to nothing. I wrap my legs around his waist instinctively, gasping as the movement brings our bodies into perfect alignment. Even through our layers of damp clothing, I can feel how much he wants me.

“Are you sure?” He searches my face, his expression serious despite the desire darkening his gaze. “Because if we start this, I don't think I'll be able to stop.”

I cup his face in my hands, feeling the scratch of his beard against my palms. “I don't want you to stop. I want you, Sawyer. All of you.”

“Noelle.” My name comes out like a prayer as he rests his forehead against mine. “I think I've been waiting for you my whole life.”

The confession causes a lump to form in my throat. Here in the soft glow of Christmas lights, with snow falling outside and his arms holding me safe and warm, I realize I've been waiting for him too. This grumpy, gentle giant with his rare orchids and careful hands. This man who tries so hard to keep people at a distance but holds me like I'm the most precious thing he's ever touched.

“Then don't make me wait any longer,” I whisper, bringing my lips to his as he groans.

Sawyer kisses like he's trying to consume me, all heat and need and barely restrained power as he carries me down the hall to his bedroom, lips never parting for more than a breath. My heart races as he sets me down, his hands sliding under my sweater, calloused palms rough against my skin. I arch into his touch with a gasp.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs against my neck. “So damn beautiful.” The reverence in his voice makes my heart squeeze. This isn't just desire, it's recognition. Like he's finally found something he's been searching for his whole life.

And since no man has ever touched me like this, I’ve found something too. He makes me feel precious and sexy all at once. Like my curves are something to worship rather than avoid. His thumb brushes the underside of my breast through my bra, and I whimper.

“Sensitive?” He does it again, watching my face.

“Yes.”

“Good.” He tugs my sweater up. “Arms up.”

I comply, shivering as cool air hits my skin. But then his mouth is there, hot and demanding as he kisses down my chest.

“This OK?” he asks, fingers toying with my bra strap.

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