Yule Be Mine Read Free Page B

this.
    Conflicting emotions wreaked havoc with her heart. She’d dreamed of Booker seeing her as more than a friend, but never would she allow him to use her to get over another woman.
    She started to hit the pillow again, then Booker slipped his arms around her from behind. All along the length of her back, she felt him, hot, hard, most definitely male. Because he held a physical job, Booker’s strength was evidenced in lean, hard muscles. When Frances started to jolt away, he carefully restrained her, gathering her close against his body, enfolding her in that delicious scent. “Just hold on and let me explain.”
    She’d melt if she stayed pressed to him like this. In a rasp, she whispered, “Let go.”
    â€œNo.”
    His refusal gave her pause, then renewed her temper. She’d never known Booker to be a dominating-type man. “What do you mean no? I said to let me go.”
    Instead, he immobilized her by kissing the side of her neck. Stunned, Frances registered the heat and firmness of his mouth, the soft touch of his damp tongue—and she registered his smile. “Honest to God, Frannie, you make me nuts. You’ve been making me nuts for a while now.” His arms tightened in a bear hug and he rocked her side to side.
    Holding herself stiff against the urge to relax in his embrace, Frances said, “Well it wasn’t on purpose.”
    â€œI know,” he soothed. “You can’t help it.”
    â€œBooker—”
    He interrupted her warning with another soft smooch, this one behind her ear. That small kiss, accompanied with the sigh of his breath, had her breathing accelerating and her temperature on the rise. She shivered.
    â€œThere, you see? You do it without even trying.”
    â€œDo…what?”
    â€œMake me crazy.” He pressed his nose into her hair. “With the way you smell—”
    Smell? She tried for sarcasm to save her. “You mean like paint thinner and clay?”
    â€œAnd woman and sex and you , Frannie Kennedy. I love how you smell.” He took another deep breath, then growled to show his sincerity. “And the way you dress.”
    Now she rolled her eyes. “In paint-stained work clothes? C’mon Booker.” Since they couldn’t be more than friends, she’d made a point of not primping with him. In the last few weeks, he’d started coming over more often, staying longer when he did, and she’d come to appreciate how nice it was to be totally herself with someone. She could forget makeup and uncomfortably stylish clothes. She could laugh out loud without worrying if he found her inelegant. She could blow her nose when she had a cold or sniffle and cry at sad movies. She could cheer as loud as any guy when her favorite football team won, and she could even share a few dirty jokes with him without blushing.
    Now he wanted to throw a kink in the works.
    Booker’s hands opened over her middle. He had large hands, rough from working in his lumberyard and doing custom millwork. With his fingers splayed, he was only a millimeter from her breasts with one hand, and closer than that to her left hipbone with the other.
    Anticipation held her in thrall. Would he touch her? Would she let him?
    His warm breath brushed her ear. “In soft loose smocks that tease because they hide your breasts, making my imagination go wild.”
    She didn’t know Booker had ever noticed her breasts. They certainly weren’t big enough to automatically draw attention.
    â€œâ€¦and snug leggings that make your ass look great.”
    Her ass? She tried to twist to see him, but he wouldn’t let her.
    â€œâ€¦and thick socks that look so cute on your feet.”
    Being almost as tall as him meant her feet were proportionate—and not in the least cute. “Now you’re just being ridiculous.”
    â€œFrannie, Frannie, Frannie. You’d be amazed at what appears sexual to the male