'Tis The Season To Be Kissed
By Amy Andrews
A down-on-her-romantic-luck kindergarten teacher plans to drown her New Year’s Eve sorrows in a gallon of spiked eggnog, but the arrival of her best friend’s sexy brother threatens to melt the snow piling up outside the tiny Vermont cabin.
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Luke chose his words carefully, taking a pull of his beer before he said anything. She might have been intoxicated but this angst was obviously coming from somewhere. “So…this ban on casual sex includes kissing?”
She nodded vigorously and Luke was left in no doubt that kissing was off the table. Damn. “Most definitely,” she added for extra emphasis. “It’s like a gateway drug.”
“A gateway drug?”
She looked directly at him and somehow, sitting in her long johns with no bra, possibly no underwear, and high on eggnog, she still managed to look just like a kindergarten teacher.
“I don’t have good impulse control. Not when it comes to kissing anyway. I like kissing. Hell,” she bugged her eyes at him, “I love kissing. It’s addictive.”
She held his gaze and Luke was captured by the earnestness he saw in hers. “You know those deep, wet, hungry kisses with plenty of tongue and a lot of groaning that taste like cotton candy laced with cocaine and reek of anticipation that can go on for hours until you can barely breathe and every cell feels alive? Just kissing and kissing and kissing like it’s never going to end?”
When she shut her eyes and sighed with her mouth slightly parted, Luke swallowed. Hard. Hell yeah, he remembered those kisses.
She turned her troubled gray gaze to the fire. “But then I want more. I want to feel his hands all over my body. I want to be naked. I want to be horizontal. Or not,” she shrugged. “It depends. And I don’t want to leave until I know all of his kinks and erogenous zones and he knows that I like it when he talks dirty to me as I’m about to come and we’re lying in an exhausted heap barely able to breathe.”
Luke didn’t say anything as she stared into the fire. Her voice had become husky and he could hear a hitch in her breathing. Her admissions sent all the blood rushing from his head and other areas of his body straight to his dick. There was none left for his vocal cords, which seemed to have gone into some weird kind of paralysis.
She sighed and looked at him. “Gateway drug.”
He cleared his throat. “Right,” he said and hoped it came out a lot more manly than it sounded.
“You know what bugs me?” she asked. “Men think because we’re women, we don’t understand what it’s like to be ruled by our libidos. That we don’t need sex as much as them.”
She snorted and Luke blinked at the vehemence of it. “That’s just crap, you know? ’Cause I can tell you, after twelve months of dating and really trying hard to find the one and failing miserably, my libido is really freakin’ loud.”
She looked him up and down, her gaze fanning over every inch of his body, and Luke’s belly clenched at the sudden clarity and frankness there. “How about it?” she said, zeroing in on his mouth like she was already kissing it deep and wet and hungry exactly the way she’d described to him.
Every single cell he owned screamed yes. He’d been in a war zone for nine months and getting laid had been pretty much at the top of his things-to-do-when-I-get-home list. His dick was definitely voting yes.
But he couldn’t do it.
She was drunk. Amusing, cute, and funny as hell with it, but still obviously under the influence. And it didn’t take a genius to figure out Tamara was a good girl who was really going to hate herself tomorrow when she remembered this conversation.
She stood abruptly, things shifting nicely beneath her shirt, her face contorting and looking crazy-fierce for a moment, and Luke knew if she jumped him, he’d be a goner.
It was almost a relief when she said, “I think I’m going to be sick.”
About The Author:
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Amy is an award-winning, best-selling Aussie author who has written thirty + contemporary romances in both the traditional and digital markets. She has written for Harlequin Mills & Boon, Entangled, Harper Collins and Momentum.
To date she’s sold over a million books and been translated into thirteen different languages including manga.She loves her kids, her husband, her dogs, cowboys, men in tool belts, cowboys in tool belts and happily ever afters. Please, DO NOT mess with the HEA! Also good books, fab food, great wine and frequent travel – preferably all four together.
She lives on acreage on the outskirts of Brisbane with a gorgeous mountain view but secretly wishes it was the hillsides of Tuscany.
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