Her Marine training hadn’t quite prepared her for saving St. Nick.
Like all bad deeds, her nickname for David North had finally come back to bite her on the butt. The too nice man she admired was determined to play Santa for the local Christmas parade while some shooting stalker was out there after him. Megan Lynx had promised her brother to guard his best friend, but who was going to guard her from a childhood crush that had obviously not gone away? For a geek, the man could nearly kiss the hard-ass Marine right out of her. Only she couldn’t let him. At least not until she’d managed to save Santa.
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Snorting at the teasing invitation to do what he already wanted to do, Nicolas reached out and grabbed her by the lapels of her alluring top. He tugged Megan to him with more force than he should probably have used with a woman wearing a loaded gun. His knuckles grazed her breasts in the process and caused his brain to short-circuit as he fought not to palm them. More and more of his Megan fantasies were coming true.
“Just to validate your conclusions, Jefferson was wrong—dead ass wrong—about what I like. But you don’t have to torture me with whatever this thing is we have between us. I’ve already told you I’ve never felt like this about anyone but you.”
“Torturing you! I’m not torturing you. I’m trying to flirt with you, but apparently I suck at it. Now shut up and kiss me, St. Nick. We’re going to be at my house long before you grow a real pair of bal. . .”
Her chastisement was swallowed by firm lips slanting across hers again. His tongue slid into her mouth with no hesitation to possessively stroke against her own. A mewling sound issued from her throat when he pulled back and stared at her like a starving man.
“That was just as nice as all the other times,” Megan said, nearly choking on the truth.