him like lightning and set his blood on fire was when her hands stole onto his thigh. She didn’t squeeze or stroke or rub him. Just let her small, gloved hand rest on his leg. But that connection was the most erotic thing he’d felt in ages.
Sweat gathered on his brow and his crotch got a bit tighter than comfort allowed. This was do-or-die time. He’d have to take her here in the sleigh, or stop kissing her.
She pulled away from him, her eyes drowsy and her lips red and plumped from his kisses. “Please. We have to go home.”
He wanted to read more into it, but she wasn’t making any assignation for later. They’d had their stolen moment, and he suspected she’d agonize over what they’d done.
Not him.
He wanted her, and if the opportunity arose, he’d take her next time.
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