It's in His Kiss(119)

By: Jill Shalvis


Some parts more than others.

He immediately began to work complicated calculus problems in his head, trying to remember the definition of the derivative of the function—

She pressed her icy feet against his calves, and he yelped like one of his sisters.

She laughed again, and he immediately lost track of calc. All he could feel was her frozen limbs. Rubbing her arms to warm her up, he forced himself not to think about what she might look like under the blanket.

He failed miserably, which meant he was hard as a rock and buck-ass nekkid. And worse, she had to feel it pressing into her hip. He tried to pull back, but she made a soft, disagreeable sound and tightened her grip on him.

“You’re not warm yet?” he asked in a voice so low as to be almost inaudible.

He couldn’t help it.

He was running out of enough blood to run both heads. And on top of that, their bodies were melded together in a way that had him heated up and aching to lay her flat on her back on the bench and—

“You’re really warm,” she whispered.

Try hot as hell, babe. “I’ll go get your phone,” he said valiantly. “And something hot for you to drink.” Coffee, tea . . . me.

“Uh. . .” She shifted, bumping a bare thigh right into his erection.

He hissed out a breath as his hips gave an entirely instinctive roll to get closer. Christ. And there, perfect—now she was back to staring at him.

“You’re. . .” She broke off. “Um.”

“Yeah.” He was “um” all right. “Involuntary reaction,” he promised. “Just ignore it.”

“But—”

“Seriously. Don’t give it another thought.” He went to shrug and had to bite back a grimace over the pain in his shoulder. “Drink?” he asked again.

She bit her lower lip and nodded. “Tea, please.”

Tea for her, and never mind that it was the crack of dawn, he’d take a vodka, straight up. He grabbed a towel for coverage and worked at not further revealing himself, which practically involved a degree in gymnastics.

Olivia was smiling by the time he got all wrapped up. “I’ve already seen it all,” she reminded him.

“I really wish you’d stop smiling when you say that.” Shaking his head when her smile only widened, he moved up the stairs to go retrieve her phone for her, the irony that she was now amused instead of disgruntled, and he was disgruntled instead of amused, not escaping him.