Snow One Like You Read Free Page B

navel, and spread across her stomach. Lower
still. Lickable.
    She affected him. Greatly. His body
reacted. His breathing deepened. He grew hard. Right then, right
there. Full on and beyond his control. He blamed Allie for his
erection. Along with the mistletoe. She should never have climbed
the ladder. Never should’ve fallen. Never have slid down his body
in a slow-motion tease. They never should’ve kissed.
    Enticement was brought to a whole new
level. Temptation made his chest ache. She distracted the hell out
of him. The softness of her lips, the fullness of her breasts, the
way her hips cradled his groin, stayed with him. He couldn’t move
without feeling her against him.
    They’d been friends forever. He was
now looking at her as a lover. Good idea? Bad? He wasn’t certain.
Sex could enhance their friendship. Or ruin what they had. Logic
steered him away from the bedroom. His body disagreed. Wanting
her.
    He moved beyond the mud room, and into
the kitchen. Allie followed. Given the look in her dark blue eyes,
she’d noticed his rise. She wasn’t frightened or offended. She
appeared curious. And as at odds as he was in handling the
situation. Doing nothing seemed right at the moment.
    The electricity held, with only the
occasional flicker. The kitchen was small, but he’d always found it
comfortable. He’d shared countless meals with Allie and her parents
over the years. So why did he now view the round table as a sexual
position? He could picture Allie nude, and perched on the edge. Her
thighs tight about his hips, clutching him close. He’d enter
her-
    “ Hot chocolate, apple cider
or coffee?” she broke across his thoughts.
    He rubbed his forehead, erasing the
image. Pancakes. He needed to concentrate on food. Not taking her
on the tabletop. Damn the ladder, he silently cursed. And the
sexual feelings that left him hard. He cleared his throat “Coffee’s
fine.”
    “ Freshly made.” She poured
him a cup. Dropped in a sugar cube. Just the way he liked it. “Park
it.” She nodded toward a Retro chrome chair with a red leather
seat.
    Painfully stiff, he wasn’t ready to
sit. So he stood and sipped. He sought a diversion, something to
take his mind off the sway of Allie’s hips as she puttered along
the counter, putting together ingredients. He started counting the
numerous spices, herbs, and seasonings on a tiered wooden rack.
Lady was organized. She kept them alphabetical. Allspice, Bay Leaf
Ground, Black Pepper, Celery Salt, Chili Powder...down to White
Peppercorns. Finishing, he finally took a seat.
    She turned, topped off his coffee,
with a tentative smile. “Buttermilk, apple spice, or blueberry
pancakes?”
    He preferred buttermilk, but blueberry
was her favorite. “Blueberry,” he said.
    She blew him a playful, appreciative
kiss without thinking. Then blushed. At any other time, he would’ve
winked back. Tonight they walked a fine line. Awareness on one
side; desire on the other. Neither wanted to be the first to
crossover.
    The griddle was hot, and Allie poured
the ingredients into a pancake dispenser. Six evenly spaced
pancakes soon sizzled. Flipped once, she plated the cakes. Then
heated her special syrup. She debated a chair next to him, but
chose one across the table. He took that as a sign she wasn’t ready
for him. He would never push her into anything she’d regret. He
never wanted her to regret him.
    Rhys was hungry. He thickly poured on
the syrup, then ploughed through the blueberry pancakes as if he
hadn’t seen food for a week. Allie ate more slowly. She savored
each bite.
    She eventually patted her stomach;
pushed her plate toward him. She’d eaten two pancakes, and was
feeling full. “Sure?” he asked before helping himself to the last
one.
    “ I saved room for dessert.
Brandy-soaked harvest cake.”
    She loved sweets. Always had. Hard
candy to chocolate-dipped jelly sticks. Cakes and cookies. Skinny
as a kid, she had a high-metabolism. She was always active. Her
curves