Page 45 of Booked for the Holidays
Cherry creamy goodness. It’s so delightful, I nearly moan. Maybe this day is getting better after all.
He takes a step toward me. “You sure about that?”
“Uh, yeah.” I suck hard on the candy, then let it slide across my tongue so the flavor bursts, causing my mouth to water. “It’s in my mouth.”
He raises a brow. “Is that supposed to stop me?”
I narrow my eyes, my cheeks hollowing around the candy. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Oh, Firefly,” he murmurs, “you must not know how seriously I take a dare.”
He’s right in front of me now, too close. The kitchen suddenly feels much smaller, the countertops too narrow to hide behind.
I straighten my spine, refusing to retreat. “What exactly are you planning to do? Wrestle it out of my mouth?” I laugh because the thought is outrageous, and I can’t even comprehend Liam doing it.
He leans in, his eyes locked on mine, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement. “Maybe.”
I take a step back, only for my hip to bump the counter. No more escape routes.
“You can’t be serious.”
His gaze drops to my lips. “That’s the thing, Firefly. When it comes to you, that’s exactly what I am.”
My brain is reeling from his words, trying to find an explanation because he can’t mean that.
Before I can stop him, he swoops in, one hand bracing beside me on the counter, the other catching my waist just enough to pull me forward. His mouth hovers over mine—not quite kissing, but close enough that I feel the warmth of his breath.
I tighten my jaw around the candy, determined.
“Oh my god, are you seriously going to tongue-wrestle me for a piece of candy?” I squeak, my voice high and breathless.
“I take my desserts very seriously,” he murmurs against my lips.
His lips brush mine once. Just a graze. A tease. My breath stutters.
I’m dying for more, but I don’t want him to know it. He’s teasing me, and while it’s thrilling, it’s dangerous, too. The line between flirting and falling hard. Besides, I can’t let it beeasy for him.
But then he’s looking at me like I’m the only thing in the room that matters, and it makes it hard to remember all the reasons I built the wall in the first place.
I tilt my chin, trying to look unaffected, even as my heart launches into a sprint.
“This how you win candy fights?” I ask, my voice low and breathy. “By stealing kisses that aren’t yours?”
He smirks, but there’s heat in his eyes now. A flicker of something more serious beneath the grin. “Only when I want the prize this badly.”
My heart squeezes.Are we still talking about the candy?
Then he tilts his head and captures my mouth. Suddenly it’s a tug-of-war with our mouths, the candy sliding between us, rolling between our tongues.
My pulse spikes.
It’s ridiculous and heated and funny. And holy hell, electric.
We’re grappling now.
I twist in his arms, trying to keep the candy from him. Laughing through my protests, but he’s quicker, his arm gripping tighter around my waist as he tilts my chin up and presses deeper into my mouth.
I gasp, stunned. But it only aids him in taking what he wants.
