Christmas Ever After (Puffin Island 3)

She wished they would be, because then she’d be trapped with him and she’d have more time.

“You’d miss Christmas with your friends.”

“Staying here would be the perfect Christmas for me.”

Crap. She shouldn’t have said that.

Now he was probably thinking he’d never be able to get rid of her. That she’d broken their deal.

She kissed him, desperate not to let him speak. She didn’t want to hear him remind her that this was supposed to be lighthearted fun and nothing more. She didn’t want him to remind her that after Christmas they probably wouldn’t meet up again for several months and when they did it would be as nothing more than casual friends.

She slid her hand over his chest and unbuttoned his shirt.

He raised an eyebrow, his hard features softened by a smile. “What are you doing?”

“I’m being bad. Let’s just hope Santa isn’t watching or I’ll be put on the naughty list.” She opened his shirt and kissed her way down his body, dealing with the snap of his jeans.

She freed him and heard the soft hiss of his breath.

“Sky—”

“I can’t think of anything I’d rather find under the Christmas tree. Merry Christmas, Alec.” She slid her mouth over him, over velvet and steel, felt hard hands grip her shoulders and then sink into her hair.

In a smooth movement he rolled her onto her back, trapping her with the weight of his body.

For a moment he stared down at her and then he lowered his head and all she could feel was the hot glide of his tongue and the hard heat of his body.

He eased his hand under her hips, his mouth still on hers.

It was like being caught in white water. She was swept away, engulfed, submerged by the power of her own feelings.

She felt the ripple of muscle under her fingers and the swell of emotion in her heart.

Dizzy, disorientated, the words floated to the surface.

I love you.

I love you.

The need to say it aloud was so great that she turned her face into his bicep, mouthing the words against the hard swell of muscle.

I love you.

His rhythm didn’t alter and with each skilled thrust of his body he drove her higher until the pleasure reached screaming pitch.

He caught her face in his hand and looked down at her, kissing her, sharing every breath, every quiver, every trembling rippling contraction, exposing all her secrets. Except one.

That one remained inside her. Just.

As the ripples of pleasure gradually eased, she closed her eyes, shaken by how close she’d come to saying it aloud.

The thought of how he would have reacted made her dizzy with horror.

She’d never be able to look him in the eye again.

Worst of all, he’d feel sorry for her.

What if it slipped out in the future?