Page 19 of Tinsel & Timber
“Like what?”
“Like you want me to ruin you.”
Her breath catches. “Maybe I do.”
Christ.
I dip my forehead to hers, fighting for sense I barely felt. My hands skim her waist, her ribs. She shivers—but not from the cold.
I want her.
I want her more than I’ve wanted anything in years.
But wanting Mara Kensington is dangerous in ways she doesn’t understand.
My fingers slide beneath the hem of her sweater. Skin. Warm, soft skin.
She sucks in a sharp breath and grabs my shirt like she thinks I might disappear.
I’m two seconds from lifting her against the door.
But—
I force air into my lungs. “Mara,” I rasp, “I don’t—I didn’t plan?—”
She blinks up at me. “Graham?”
I swallow hard. “I don’t have anything with me. I want to fuck you so bad right now but I don’t have a condom.” And it’s not exactly like this place even has a space worthy of laying her down and having my way with her.
Realization flares in her eyes. Then amusement. Then something tender that nearly undoes me.
“We can slow down,” she whispers.
Slow down.
I drop my head against her shoulder, breathing her in—pine, cold air, and the peppermint mocha from earlier. My hands won’t stop touching her hips, her waist, the line of her neck. I’m vibrating with restraint.
“This is not slow,” I manage.
“No,” she agrees, breathless. “But it could be. If you wanted.”
I lift my head. Her lips are inches from mine.
“I don’t want slow,” I admit. “I want you.”
Her eyes darken.
“But I want to do this right,” I add, voice hoarse.
For a heartbeat, she just stares at me. Then her hands slide up my chest—slowly, deliberately—curling into my shirt like she wants to pull me closer and rip me apart at the same time.
Her voice is a whisper when she says, “Then kiss me again.”
I don’t need to be told twice.
I cup her face and kiss her, deep and hungry. She rises onto her toes, pressing against me like she can’t stand the thought of not touching me.
Her body fits against mine like it’s something we practiced. Like muscle memory. Like fate.
