Page 70 of Mistlefoe
The corner of his lips lifts. “To be honest?—”
“Oh, no.” I slap a hand over my mouth.
Chuckling, Conor shifts to free his other hand so it can remove the barrier. “You could spend a whole month without showering or brushing your teeth and you’ll still smell better than a locker full of sweaty jocks.”
“Oh, okay.” I nod my head. “I guess that means you’re up for a stinky morning kiss, then?”
“Very much up for it, yes,” Conor responds with a solemn nod. “You? I mean, I haven’t exactly spent the whole night eating peppermint candy.”
I crash my laughing mouth on his and I decide it’s a waste of time to worry or to even try to brush my teeth, when I can better spend it like this. In Conor’s arms—well, not exactly. I’m just leaning over him. But as the kiss gets more intense and my hands on his shoulder and chest aren’t enough to keep me upright, I feel him grab my hips and lift me onto his lap with no resistance from my end.
A gasp escapes from my throat as he settles me down easily and even wraps my arms around his neck. “How’s that?”
“Me gusta.” I shake my head again. “I mean, I like it. How about we don’t move for the rest of the day?”
“If only.” He leans closer to trap my lower lip between his. One of this hands stays firmly on my hip as the other one travels, first going backward to the curve of my butt, inching up towards my back and leaving a trail of tingling fire. “This is way better than wrapping presents.”
I’m about to suggest maybe unwrapping each other when buzzing starts from somewhere nearby. I ignore it in favor for another kiss, this time rising on my knees so I can control it. I run my fingers through his hair and it makes his chest vibrate with a groan of those that shut my brain off.
Or would, if it wasn’t for the incessant buzzing.
Our lips make a loud smacking sound as I tear apart. “That’s a phone, isn’t it?”
“Maybe?” Conor squeezes his eyes shut, his nose wrinkling in an adorable way. “Can we keep pretending we’re in a secluded cabin in the woods?”
“Wearein a secluded cabin in the woods.” I chuckle and peck him in the lips. I love that even though we’re very open about what’s going on between us now, his face is still as red as a tomato. It makes me wonder if the rest of his skin looks just the same under his clothes.
“Right.” Sighing, he opens his eyes. “How about this, if it’s nothing important we keep making out for a bit and then get back to work.”
“Sounds perfect.” I drop another little kiss on the tip of his nose and Conor squeezes my hip in return. One of the saddest things I’ve ever done is crawling away from him right now.
Our movements are equally as lethargic as we look around for our phones. Conor finds his first among the cushions on the couch and shakes his head. It must mean that the buzzing was from mine, and when it starts back up I locate the offending device face down on the coffee table, under a mound of unused wrapping paper.
I pick up my phone and two things register at the same time. First, it’s eight thirty in the morning. Second, the one calling is my mom. I connect the two dots in an instant.
I’ve been missing in action for about twelve hours.
“Mom, I’m okay!” I say as greeting the second I pick up the call.
“Sierra Fernandez!” Her screech is so loud that even Conor shrinks. “Where the hell have you been? Your father and Grammie and I are freaking out?—”
“Grammie?” I gasp. “But her hypertension?—”
“You come home right this second and explain yourself!”
Then the line goes dead. Which means…
“Oh, I’m so dead.”
“Quick. Let’s take you home.” Conor jumps to his feet in a second and starts gathering around my stuff strewn about his living room, starting by the one shoe I managed to remove in my sleep, and even my purse.
I whimper.
Conor’s lips twitch but he manages to stay serious. “Get up, Sierra.”
“I know I have to, but that’s the start of my death march.”
He sets all my stuff at the end of the couch and starts putting on his winter layers. “It’s going to be okay.”
