Snowed In (Fitzpatrick Christmas, #2)

by Catherine Walsh

“Sorry.” “Am I bright red?” I shake my head, even though she is. But that’s not what caught my attention. Megan O’Sullivan has freckles. Dozens of them. Maybe hundreds.

awww hes falling

it doesn’t sound infuriating at all. It sounds sexy and promising, and then his tongue meets his fingers, and I’m gone. Vanished. Dead. Goodbye. The man knows what he’s doing. He kisses all around before focusing on my clit, blowing on it lightly before his lips close around the small nub, and if there’s one thing I now know for sure, it’s that nothing has ever, ever felt this good in my entire life. It’s the kind of good that I never want to end, which of course means it does all too quickly. It takes only a few minutes for me to unravel, but even then, he only stops when I tell him to, beg him to, too sensitive for so much as a kiss as he works his way back up to my lips.

oh my god

“Stop staring at me,” she says, as we dig into our breakfasts. “Never.” “I’m eating.” “I know. The way you have Nutella all over your chin?” “Yeah?” “Hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” I say, and she dips her spoon into the jar again. “You’re really going to finish the whole thing, aren’t you?” “Most important meal of the day. And—” She gasps as I lean forward, closing my lips over the spoon. “A thief. That’s what you are.” “You have to eat a banana now.” “So we’re just making up rules now? We’re just—” She smiles against my lips as I kiss her. Kiss her again and again and again. “You’ve got really long eyelashes,” she says when I pull back. “So I’ve been told.” “And you’ve got a shadow,” she adds, dragging her fingers across the stubble on my jaw before putting our food to the side. “And chocolate on your mouth,” she whispers, licking it off as she climbs onto my lap. “Would it be weird if we stayed here forever?”

this. all of this.