Page 54 of Booked for the Holidays
His thumb stills against my jaw, like he feels the lie trembling in my skin. “Is that what you’re telling yourself?”
I shrug, my voice too thin. “It makes it easier. To keep this light. No promises. Just holiday fun.”
His forehead drops to mine, his breath warm and steady. “If that’s what you need, Firefly…fine. Just don’t lie about what you want right now.”
His lips hover over mine, so close I can feel the way he’s holding back. He’s waiting for me to cross that last inch.
I want to keep pretending. Keep it safe. Keep my heart locked tight behind old disappointments and excuses.
But I can’t. Not with him right here, looking at me like I’m worth every risk.
I press up on my toes until my lips are barely brushing against his.
“I want…” The word slips out against his mouth, my guard cracking wide open. “I want this.” Even if it’s just for Christmas. Even if it’s just this moment. Even if it wrecks me.
SEVENTEEN
LIAM
Juniper’sback hits the bookshelf with a soft thud, the paperback in her hand dropping to the floor, forgotten.
This kiss is different from our tongues fighting over candy. It’s not the teasing kind. This one is all hands and hunger. All frustration and unfinished business. Her fingers fist in my sweater, her legs parting just enough for me to slide one of mine between hers, snug and intentional. She rocks forward without even thinking and her legs clench tighter around my thigh.
She gasps, but it turns into a whimper when my hands grip her ass and pull her harder against me.
“Liam. Oh, god.”
I wanted to kiss her, but dragging her sensitive clit roughly across my denim-clad thigh seems like a good idea, too.
“You like that, Firefly?” I nip at the corner of her mouth.
“Yes.”
“Well, I like these skirts of yours.” I let my hands dive beneath said skirt and grip her through the cashmere leggings beneath. “I like how easy they make it to slip my hand beneath and touch you. Just like this.”
We lose ourselves in it. Kissing like we’re teenagers who just discovered how good it feels. Open mouths, hot breaths. Hernails scrape through my hair and I grip her waist tighter, rolling my hips into hers without shame.
She’s arching against me now, chasing friction like it’s air, and it makes something sharp and possessive snap loose in my chest.
“You’re mine,” I mutter, not even meaning to say it out loud.
She moans, biting my bottom lip, then says, “You wish.”
She’s all stubborn contradictions, but she’s pulling me closer, not pushing me away, so I’ll take it.
Her body rolls against mine like she’s past the point of caring. When she presses down again, a soft, strangled noise escapes her throat that nearly undoes me.
“Right there?” I whisper against her ear.
She nods, fast and desperate. Her hands are gripping my sweater like she needs something to hang on to.
“Use it then,” I rasp, dragging my mouth down her neck, kissing along her jaw. “Ride my thigh, Firefly. I want to feel you come just like this.”
“I—I can’t—” she chokes out.
“Yes, you can, baby,” I encourage against her ear. “Grind that sweet cunt on my thigh until you shatter.”
Her breath stutters at the command. “Liam?—”
