Unwrapping The Holidays. Sheryl Lister

for the pieces that had fallen on the floor and then she tossed them as she ran.

      Again she didn’t get far; he picked her up easily with one arm. She squirmed and he said, “Easy does it. Truce? I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” He put her back down.

      Her chin jutted up. “Me? I’m not—”

      It hadn’t been his intention to kiss her. But she was wrapped in his arms with her eyes dancing and, well, damn it. It seemed like a good idea at the time. And she tasted like freaking heaven. Sweet, with just a hint of spice. And just one brush of his lips did him in.

      Synapses in his brain fired the danger alert code. But the nerve endings in his body fired the “keep doing this” code. He kept the kiss light. Just a tiny taste. Just a little something for Christmas to make him still believe in wishes. Even though he knew better.

      But then everything changed. Instead of pulling back with a shocked or concerned expression, she mewled, and then looped her arms around his neck. She was pressing her body into his and she was kissing him back.

      Cole slid a hand down her back and pressed her against his body. Yes. Hell yes.

      Even if this was a dream, it was one he could get behind. He’d sleep half the damn day if it meant more kisses like this.

      Her tongue danced with his, tangling and twisting. Forcing his to chase hers. In a flash, he picked her up again and she wound her legs around his hips.

      He couldn’t breathe; the desire contracted his lungs and airflow. With much effort, his brain made a few feeble attempts to come back online.

      Jamie worked her fingers over his scalp and he groaned in ecstasy. It might not have been smart, but he didn’t care. He needed to stop thinking and right now she was the panacea he needed.

      She tasted familiar yet illicit at the same time. In a matter of seconds they were seventeen again in Frank’s house, playing seven minutes in heaven.

      The second she’d touched her lips to his, he felt like someone had poured gasoline on him and lit a match. And none of that feeling had gone away. In fact, it was worse. Much, much worse.

      A flood of endorphins rushed through his blood as he remembered everything about that night seven years ago in startling clarity. From the taste of her lip balm, to the feel of her soft skin. And somehow it was more potent now, more visceral. He couldn’t get enough and he wondered if it might be possible to explode from a kiss.

      Cole slid his hands under her sweater and around her back, relishing her velvety skin. She felt like satin under his fingertips. Her soft sigh like a balm to his soul.

      Bringing his hands back to her torso, he skimmed her ribs. Tracing each with his thumbs. When his thumbs rubbed the soft undersides of her breasts, Jamie gasped and arched into the caress.

      She threw her head back, breaking their kiss, and he smiled to himself as he watched her. She wanted more. She was wound just as tightly as he was. Just like him, she remembered.

      He needed more. Needed to touch her, hold her.

      With a frustrated growl, he snatched up the hem of her sweater. “Let’s toss this, shall we?”

      She nodded absently and reached for him. He was more than happy to oblige, surpassing all thought that told him this was a bad idea.

      He dragged that hideous sweater over her head and tossed it aside. “There, that’s better.”

      She blinked into focus and grinned. “Yeah, it got really hot in here. Wonder why.”

      She was so damn cute. “What do you say we get rid of this too. Make you more comfortable?” He tugged on her Cyberpunked T-shirt. Wait, what the hell? He frowned and focused on three lines of code with colorful, punk rock, rainbow font. Cyberpunked. “Where did you get this T-shirt?”

      She looked down. “Oh, I had them screened and printed for all the employees. You know as a team-bonding thing. What, you want one?”

      Cole’s gut fisted. Oh hell. He gently lifted her away from him. Jamison Reed was J.L. Reed. The one woman he couldn’t make comply. “You want to explain why the hell you won’t sell to me?”

      She frowned, then blinked.

      It took her a second to process. But he could tell when it finally dawned on her what he was asking. She stumbled back as if she was on fire. “You’re Teched?”

      Cole crossed his arms. “Yeah. Want to answer my question?”

      This was the man trying to take everything from her. She knew the vultures were circling and his company was the biggest, baddest bird among them. They didn’t think Cyberpunked could withstand the tide. Well, she’d just have to prove him wrong.

      She glared up at him, then drew herself up to full height. “The only way you’re coming near me, or my company, is over my dead body.”

      He glowered at her. “That can be arranged.” He’d spent the past half day with her. How was he just finding this out?

      “I’d like to see you try.”