Her Naughty Holiday

“Are you?”

“I am,” she said. “Your shirt’s nice.”

“Cotton. Preshrunk. I go for the fancy shit.”

“I might keep it.”

“I’d like that.” He raised his hand to her face and traced her lips with his fingertips. “Although if you decided at some point tonight that you hated it and wanted to burn it, I wouldn’t complain about that, either.”

“I don’t think that’s likely.”

“No?”

“Why burn it? I’d use it for washing my car.”

He nodded, grinning his cocky half grin. “Good idea.”

“Harrison Ford.”

“What? Where?” Erick glanced around the room.

“No, you. I was trying to figure out earlier who you reminded me of. You look like a young Harrison Ford. But with a beard.”

He lowered his head so that their lips were barely an inch apart and whispered two words to her.

“I know.”

4 (#ued25e737-8790-5f07-875f-86a61c5606cd)

CLOVER STARTED TO laugh but his kiss put a stop to that nonsense. At first the kiss was gentle, nothing but his mouth moving over hers as he explored her top lip with his lips and her bottom lip with his teeth. She felt ridiculous just lying there with her hands gripping the sheets at her sides, so she forced her fingers to uncurl and placed her hands on his shoulders and back. He had such warm, smooth skin that once she touched him with her bare hands she couldn’t stop. His tongue slipped between her teeth and she slid her palms down his long back and up again. The knots of nervousness that had knit up her entire body since Erick rang her doorbell slowly started to loosen. She should do this more often. Like...every night of her life.