One corner of his mouth lifted in a sentimental smile. “It probably goes without saying that I’m not the greatest with mushy stuff, but I just want you to know that I…you know.”
“Yeah. I you know you, too.”
He looped his arm around her and pulled her in for a hug. She embraced him tightly and squeezed for all she was worth.
“Can you just, uh, pretend you don’t feel that,” he said, his voice gruff. “My head’s still a bit crooked.”
As if it hadn’t been hard enough—hee-hee—to ignore his growing erection, the press of it against her stomach caused heat to flood her entire body. She drew back and gave him her best confused expression. “Feel what?”
“Very funny.”
“Oh, so now I’m in trouble because I’m good at taking instructions.” She raised her shoulder and batted her eyes at him, hoping her attempt at coquettish didn’t look more like she was having a seizure.
He groaned and ran his hand down her hair, tugging it a bit at the ends and detonating that delectable tingle across her scalp that had her tempted to ask him to pull harder. “Killing me, Smalls.”
“Sorry. I’m not exactly not dying here.” She exhaled and summoned up the side of her that usually made men run for the hills. “Fun fact: the kind of tumors that can grow their own teeth and hair are called teratomas. We got this one in the lab, from a brain tumor, that had an eye, so it was like it was watching me dissect it the entire time.”
“Yeah, I remember, because you sent me the picture while I was eating dinner.” Gavin shuddered. “That was the stuff of nightmares.”
“You’re welcome.” She glanced up, to think and to avoid focusing on the situation in his pants. “Let’s see, what else is a boner killer?”
“That word, for one,” he said with a chuckle.
“Did you know that while we sleep, cerebrospinal fluid—that’s what’s in your spine—flows in and out of your brain in waves, washing away accumulated waste and buildup?”
“I did not. Go, spinal fluid, I guess?”
“Ooh, and if you smoothed out the wrinkles in your brain, it’d be about the size of a pillowcase.”
“Well, I know what I’m getting you for Christmas now.”
A laugh burst out of her, and then he was laughing, too. But then she looked at him, and her traitorous eyes fixated on the mouth that’d ravaged hers a few hours ago. Her teeth sank into her lower lip, and yet the words she shouldn’t say came out anyway. “I sorta wish I’d known that make-out session in the kitchen would be the last and only one.”
“Are you saying you need one for the road?” The rise and fall of his chest, along with the tense set of his jaw, at least verified this wasn’t a piece of cake for him. Something a tiny part of her still struggled to believe.
“Tempting, but probably not a good idea.”
“Yeah, I doubt my self-control would be any stronger than it was earlier, fun facts about the brain notwithstanding.” Yet he dipped his head and she froze, unable to blink or move or breathe. Then he pressed a kiss to her forehead.
Before she could so much as react, he opened the door and then he was gone.
And she was a gooey melty mess of a girl who had no chance of getting an ounce of sleep tonight.
Chapter Sixteen
Put a scalpel in her hands, and Julie could slice and dice with the best of them. When it came to sports, however, she struggled with her hand-eye coordination.
And that was on a good day.
Last night, there’d been no sleeping. She’d tossed and turned, her lips tingling with the memory of heated kisses, only to then mourn their loss, and well, the odds were so not ever in her favor.
The cold air stung her face as the familiar bounce, bounce, bounce of the rubber ball echoed across the driveway. She still couldn’t believe she’d been dragged into this game of Horse—or Reindeer, since they’d decided to go festive, along with giving her extra letters to work with. Rashad insisted they play for old times’ sake, and when she’d tried to beg off, he pointed out that with his injury, Gavin was only half a player.
With her “help,” he’d be closer to one fourth of an athlete.
Avoiding Darlene out of guilt had also steered her outside. Finally Julie had told her about the naked woman in the background of their Christmas card. She, Niki, Gavin, and Rashad had all assured her it wasn’t a big deal, but now Darlene was on the phone, calling half the town to apologize, which meant anyone who hadn’t noticed at first was well aware of the topless photobomber now.
Julie’s thin knit gloves were no match for Colorado winter, and she rubbed her hands together, attempting to warm them.
Gavin turned and chuckled at her expense, puffs of white clouding the space between them. “Did you think we said we were headed to the North Pole to see some reindeer? Because you’re certainly dressed for it.”
She flung the end of her scarf around her neck one more time and stuck her tongue out at him. “Dude, how aren’t you cold? Surely you’ve adjusted to Texas temps by now.”
He tapped her on the nose with his bare finger. “Not only do I travel to snowy places all the time, there’s this thing called being tough.”
“If only there were anyone tough enough around here to explain it to me.”
Gavin’s cocky expression faded, but the one that replaced it wasn’t any harder to resist. One eyebrow went low while the other lifted, completing some kind of sexy caterpillar move, which shouldn’t be a thing but somehow was. The pep talk she’d given herself as she bundled up dissipated as quickly as the flakes of snow did once they hit his long-sleeved Under Armor shirt.
It might have something to do with his body heat, but she wouldn’t be surprised if the glittery bits of frost simply got an eyeful of the muscles his shirt displayed and melted right on the spot.
Currently, she was having the same problem.
He dipped his head, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Hey, I resisted telling you not to stick out that tongue if you weren’t gonna use it, didn’t I?”
A lump lodged itself in her throat, efficiently blocking every clever response she could come up with.
“Heads up,” Rashad said as he hurled the orange ball in their direction.
Julie flinched and put her hands up—more to block than to catch—but Gavin caught the ball one-handed, his eyes never leaving hers.
At one point, she’d declared herself immune to jocks. Now she was crossing her fingers that immersion therapy was the best way to build her tolerance. Maybe then she’d be able to look at him without wanting to finish what they’d started.