Caroselli's Christmas Baby. Michelle Celmer
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cupping her cheek, sliding under the root of her ponytail and cocking her head to just the right angle.
Her internal thermometer shot into the red zone and her bones began a slow melt, dripping away like icicles in the hot sun. And only when she heard Nick moan, when she felt her fingers sink through the softness of his hair, did she realize that her arms were around his shoulders, that her body was pressed against him, her breasts crushed against the hard wall of his chest. It was thrilling and arousing, and scary as hell, and a couple dozen other emotions all jumbled up together. But more than anything, it just felt … right. In a way that no other kiss had before. And all she could think was more.
For the second time Nick was the one to pull away, and she had to fight the urge to tighten her arms around his neck and pull him to her again. But instead of letting go completely, he hooked his fingers in the belt loop of her jeans.
“Wow,” he said, searching her face, almost as if he were seeing her for the first time. “That was …”
“Wow,” she agreed. If she had known kissing Nick would be like that, she might have tried it a long time ago.
“Are you still worried about us being incompatible?” he asked.
“Somehow I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”
“Do you feel weird?”
“Weird?”
“You said before that you were afraid things might get weird between us.”
The only thing she felt right now was turned-on, and ready to kiss him again. “It’s difficult to say after one kiss.”
“Oh, really?” he said, tugging her closer. “Then I guess we’ll just have to do it again.”
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