Page 14 of Jingle Bell Flock
I looked away, pushing those old memories aside and focusing instead on the blizzard raging outside. On anything except the heat pooling in my groin at the thought of Harrison’s warm, wet mouth wrapped around my dick.
This was dangerous. Being here, remembering, wanting.
But the storm had trapped us together, and for tonight at least, I couldn’t run.
And maybe, for once, I didn’t want to.
five
. . .
HARRISON
Jeremy turned toward me.His gaze was blown wide, only a rim of hazel remained. His chest rose and fell, each inhale and exhale measured like he was counting them … in for three, out for three.
From the other room, I heard the heater click on. Outside, snow blasted against the brick.
I tried to swallow, but my throat was suddenly bone dry. “Jeremy?” His name came out low and rough, a murmur that scraped against my throat.
A question.
Maybe an invitation.
No,definitelyan invitation.
He went still, eyes flicking to my mouth, then back up to my eyes. He dragged his tongue across his bottom lip, and the sight sent heat straight through me. His fingers curled at his sides, then uncurled, like he was fighting with himself.
With me.
But he’d said we were done fighting.
God, I’d give anything to see him surrender.
Lord knew I already had.
I moved forward without deciding to. One step, then another. Close enough to smell winter clinging to his flannel—pine needles and woodsmoke filled my lungs, and underneath, soap and skin and … him.
“Jeremy,” I whispered, softer this time.Please, touch me.
As if he read my mind—or maybe he just needed this as badly as I did—he closed the space between us in two long strides.
“Fuck it,” he growled, his fist bunching in my sweater as he yanked me against him. His mouth met mine again, seventeen years overdue.
His teeth caught my lower lip, his kiss turning hot and demanding, years of pent-up fury turned into want. It wasn’t careful or sweet. It was everything we’d never said, everything we’d buried, clawing its way to the surface. He kissed me like he was furious about wanting me. Like he’d been waiting years to do it again, and hated himself for it.
I just kissed him like he was mine.
My fingers tangled in his hair, tugging until he made a low, guttural sound that vibrated through my chest and shot straight down. Blood rushed south so fast I was nearly dizzy with need.
I broke the kiss, gasping, our foreheads coming together. His ragged exhales were hot against my mouth.
“What are we doing?” I managed, my voice cracking on the last word.
The corner of his mouth quirked up into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Catching up.”
Then his mouth crashed back to mine, a brutal dance of teeth and tongue that tasted of anger and desperation. His handsgripped my hips, the edge of the counter biting into my lower back as he moved forward, pinning me there with his weight.
I met his ferocity with my own, pulling him closer, my fingers digging into the hard muscle of his back. I could feel his cock, hard and insistent, grinding against my hip as he rolled his body into mine. Every nerve ending was on fire, decades of want burning through my veins.
