Chapter Thirteen
Kissing Taylor was like Caitlin’s own private party. He tasted like hot chocolate and smelled like evergreen and made her body feel like New Year’s Eve at midnight, complete with bells and horns and loud, sparkly fireworks. No reserved, family-appropriate kiss this time. The man was out to impress, and man, oh, man did he impress.
She closed her eyes and let him take over, tilting her head and reveling in the warmth of his talented mouth and tongue. Reaching around his waist to pull him closer, she knocked the thermos off the log with a metallic scrape and a thud, no doubt spilling the rest of the steamy contents into the snow. A deep, sexy groan low in his throat fired off a new round of bottle rockets in her body that zapped her brain and shot straight between her legs. God. She couldn’t remember a kiss like this, that made her body ache and her mind go blank. She fully expected there to be a ten-foot radius of melted snow around them from the heat he was throwing off when they finally came up for air, which to her disappointment happened way too soon.
He pulled back, and she opened her eyes to find him staring at her, brow furrowed.
“What?” Her voice came out low and breathy.
“You,” he said, as if that one word made everything perfectly clear.
Before she could reply, he took her mouth again and, without breaking the kiss, guided her into his lap to face him, legs on either side of his body. She loved that he was so strong and confident. She wasn’t cold anymore. Nope. Not even a little bit.
The garbage bag crinkled as he brushed it aside to cup her backside with his big hands and pull her closer. Even through the thick snow pants and thermals underneath, she could feel the ridge of his erection between them, and it thrilled her to know he was as turned on as she was. Complete, mindless desire. She moaned and he deepened the kiss, tongue sliding against hers in a smooth, deliberate rhythm that made her want to throw off all her clothes and roll around with him in the snow.
Holding her steady with one arm, Taylor reached between them and rubbed with a rhythm over the most sensitive part of her, which, even through the layers of clothes, was perfect. God. She was going to come if he kept this up, which surprised the crap out of her. She made a bizarre, involuntary noise that sounded like the cross between a moan and a cry.
He chuckled and stilled, pulling back to look at her. “I knew it.”
Heat flooded her face as she blushed. Knew what? That she’d make noises like a startled chipmunk?
“I knew you’d be passionate. That you’d make me crazy.”
Oh…
He kissed her again, putting that hand between them back to work, rubbing her just hard enough at just the right tempo to have her losing her mind as his body rocked in a deliberate rhythm beneath her. “Let go, Caitlin,” he said between kisses. “Wait. Strike that.” He paused a moment. “I mean, let go, pretty please.”
She laughed and nipped his bottom lip before sealing her mouth to his.
This. This is what she’d wanted to do since she’d laid eyes on him, but she hadn’t because she’d protected herself instead. Denied herself because of something in the past that she needed to unload from her baggage. And she would. Right now. Only she couldn’t hold the thought because he increased his pressure. Rocking against his hand, she moaned.
From closer than before, Beau barked, jerking her from the moment.
Light-headed, she pulled back and stared at Taylor’s face. His expression was one of absolute euphoria that caused something in her chest to constrict. Maybe she should still protect herself.
From what? Certainly not from this man. She was pretty sure he wasn’t the player she’d originally believed. The B thing had made her feel a lot better. Even if the panty person was a legit thing, he didn’t have a fiancée he was cheating on—he just had a pretend one. Besides. It was just a kiss. Nothing but a passing moment.
A weird, hollow longing expanded in her chest, followed by no small amount of embarrassment. God. She’d ordered him to kiss her. If the dog hadn’t interrupted, she’d have ordered him to do a heck of a lot more. Nothing but a moment, she assured herself. A hot, intense, perfect moment.
Woof! Beau bounded across the blanket of snow toward them leaving a trail like a furry snow plow.
“Here comes the cavalry to save us,” he said.
“Save us from what?”
“From ourselves.” He helped her to her feet and stood, making some adjustments with a wince. He shook his head. “I was contemplating ripping our clothes off, cold be damned. And that would be bad for lots of reasons.”
The image made her knees a little weak. “Like what?”
“We have agreed upon limits, for starters.” His smile widened. “And being discovered fatally frozen wearing nothing but grins would be tragic, since it’s an avoidable death.”
“There are worse ways to go,” she murmured, pulling her hood in place and straightening the trash bag over her bulky coat.
Beau barked and ran a few yards in the direction of the cabin and back again.
“Yeah, buddy. We know,” Taylor said, picking up his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder.
Caitlin retrieved the thermos from where she’d knocked it off the log, screwed the top on, and handed it to Taylor. “Duty calls.” Her voice didn’t sound half as disappointed as she felt.
But Taylor’s did. “It always does.” He grabbed the bag of mistletoe and they struck out after Beau.
…
Taylor ran a hand over his face. Not only could Caitlin give orders, she could see they were carried out. Holy shit, she could kiss. Even wrapped in a garbage bag and bundled in enough clothes to outfit a whole platoon, she’d lit him up. Hell, his mind was still kind of fuzzy, crammed with hot images of the way she’d moved and those noises she’d made. His body surged back to life, ready for duty. Shit.
She sat across from him at the table in the main cabin, chowing cinnamon scones with Bethany and Mom, looking completely at ease while he was anything but. He shifted in his chair, trying to get more comfortable.
“So, bro, what took you so long to get a little bag of mistletoe? Uncle Rock and I have been back for over twenty minutes.”
What took so long? Scorching kisses he could still taste. Kisses that made him want an encore without snow or garbage bags or layers of clothes in the way. He shook his head. There couldn’t be an encore, no matter how good she looked in her tight, green sweater. He had to pull himself out of this nosedive, somehow, for both his and Caitlin’s sake.
“Perhaps you need a lesson in mistletoing from the master,” Bethany teased. “Behold the genius of my secret weapon!” She strode to the sofa, unzipped her backpack, and pulled out a gizmo made of poles with a bungee through them. Then she stuck it together end to end, making a long pole with pinchers. “Ta daa! Witness the wonder of The Grab Master—as seen on TV!” She wagged her eyebrows. “Makes for easy floor pick-up, unscrews light bulbs, and accesses hard to reach items, like mistletoe!” She extended it into the air and squeezed the handle, causing the tong-like ending to open and close like a crab claw. “It’s also a spectacular tool to annoy the crap out of big brothers!” She reached across the table and snapped the jaws of it closed on his shoulder several times. “It also works on grumpy uncles.”
“Keep that damn thing away from me,” Uncle Rock said from the end of the table. “I’ve had my fill of that contraption.”
Caitlin’s laugh was like music. Taylor would never get sick of hearing it, not even in a hundred years. His gut tightened. Three days. Back down, Blankenship. Thank God this wasn’t a longer event. The more time he spent with this woman, the more time he wanted, and that wouldn’t do at all. He had no room in his life for another person. Not until things settled down with his job, and that might be a while.
“Are we ready for round two?” Grams asked, entering the room from the back hallway that led to the bedrooms. She and Bethany were bunking here, while Uncle Rock and Aunt Addie stayed in a small cabin one over from this one. His parents had the cabin beyond that. His and Caitlin’s cabin was at the end. He wished they were there now. Alone. Caitlin whispered something in Bethany’s ear. He imagined her whispering in his ear. Whispering wonderful, dirty things. Back down.
Grams gave every contestant a sheet of paper. “Same rules as always. Take a photo that best illustrates the description. I’ll decide who gets the point for each picture. Don’t be boring. You underwhelmed me last year.”
This part was much easier since the invention of phones with cameras. In the old days, everyone used a crappy polaroid camera that took terrible pictures that faded over time. Grams had a scrapbook with all the old photos from the anniversary scavenger hunts on her coffee table at home.
Without warning—and there should have been one—Grams pulled out a whistle from her sweater pocket and blew it. Loudly.
With laughs and shrieks and shouts, the table cleared except for Mom and Dad, who just sat there holding hands. They’d always done that—remained peaceful and connected in turmoil. And as they stared at him, smiling, Taylor felt like an outsider somehow. Like he’d been invited to a cool Super Bowl party, but hadn’t gotten the message he was supposed to bring the chips.
“You’d better get going, since she put a thirty-minute time limit on this part,” Dad said. “Unless there’s something you want to talk about.”
Nothing he could talk about with his parents. “I’m good.” Liar. “See you in thirty.” He scooped up his phone from the table and headed out to take pictures of God knew what while not obsessing on his painfully sexy fake fiancée. In order to make it through this, he’d need to put her from his mind completely.
He stared down at the caption for the first photo he was supposed to take:
I’d tap that.
Well, shit.