32. SIERRA

CHAPTER 32

SIERRA

M aybe I'm being a neanderthal, but there's nothing sexier than when your boyfriend can lift you up onto your feet without breaking a sweat or even squeezing his jaw tight from the effort.

I squeeze him, all right. Once I'm vertical, I grab onto his arms and cop a nice feel of them. They're like granite, just like everything of his except for two things.

His eyes and his lips. Those are so very soft as he looks down and smiles at me. I sigh.

Taking advantage of the added height from my skates, I run my hands up his shoulders until I find his neck. "We said today's date would be nice and chill, so how about we stay just like this for the rest of the day?"

"I'm not wearing my skates," he says as if that was the most important thing here.

"Is it mandatory? Because I'm all nice and cozy enough right now."

As response, Conor's hands press just a little tighter around my waist. My lips part with a tiny gasp of delight. Maybe that's why he decides to travel his hands a little further—down, towards my erm, cushion. He pulls me right against him as he cops a little feel in return.

"Look at you, wearing waterproof pants," Conor whispers in my ear and I don't know why I shiver.

"Ahem." A raspier voice echoes around us. Conor and I separate enough to turn toward Gramps, who stands by the door to the rink with his arms folded. "I think I'm going home now. That way you two can be naughty or nice together if you want."

Conor groans. "Gramps, you're killing me."

"We'll be very nice." I grin, showing all my pearly whites. "Ish."

Gramps shakes his head. "Conor, be a gentleman to Sierra. And make sure to lock up when you lovebirds leave. Merry Christmas, Sierra."

This time my smile is for real. "Merry Christmas, Gramps."

Conor and I are still nice and snug as we watch the old man climb the steps back up, and we keep quiet until we hear the front door open and close.

Slowly, my boyfriend turns back to me and cocks an eyebrow. "So, I take it you and Gramps set this up together?"

"Yes. I wrapped your gifts and he sneaked them into your house. But then he sneaked me in here this morning. Were you surprised?"

"Very."

I brush imaginary lint off his chest. "But in a good way?"

"In an oh my gosh, I can't believe I'm able to contain this much happiness in my body kind of way."

"Good. Guess what will make you happier?" I ask.

Conor's expression turns pensive for a moment, eyes lost on a point somewhere above my head. "Oh, the hot chocolate I forgot to make this morning because I left in such a rush?"

"Something better," I say, only growing his confusion. I reach into the pocket of my vest and pluck out a small bundle. His eyes latch onto it as I lift it up between us. "How's this?"

His warm brown eyes fall from the small bunch of mistletoe directly to my lips. "You're right, this is exactly what I needed for the moment to be truly perfect."

Conor holds the side of my face, tilting it with his thumb to get better access to my lips. I let my eyelids fall and abandon myself to the feeling of his hot, velvet-smooth lips caressing mine. Of his breath fanning my face and how he holds me so I don't fall.

But I've fallen, I've fallen so hard for him that I'm never getting back up.

At some point, the mistletoe has slipped from my hand in favor of feeling his hair, his neck, his jaw. If it wasn't getting harder to breathe, I'd be well on my way to feeling his skin under his sweatshirt. When we come up for air, I notice he did slide one of his hands under my shirt.

"Sneaky," I say among gasping breaths.

"I'll let you pay me back any time." He grins against my mouth, and I guess that's enough breathing for now.

I pull him in for another kiss, open mouthed and hot enough to melt the rink down, and I waste no time in getting my revenge. I slide my freezing hands against the taught skin of his back, enjoying how it makes him shiver just as much as I love the ridges of hard muscles up his spine, down his side, and the smattering of fuzz over his abs.

That's where he pulls away, grabbing my wrists. "Any more of that and I'm going to disappoint Gramps."

I mewl. "But…"

"Later." His gaze is intense and hot enough that I don't need any clothes to warm me up. "When we're not in a place where slipping down could send us to the hospital."

"Okay, fine." I roll my eyes. "I guess you can give me another skating lesson, then. "

"I'm flattered by your disappointment." Grinning, he lifts my hands and places a kiss on the big knuckle of one hand, the kind that would've made a Regency era lady melt into a puddle. I can confirm it does the same to me, especially when he does the same on the other hand. "There's no need to rush, Sierra. We're in this for the long haul."

"We are." My voice is a throaty mess and I clear it. "We're sticking to the low key and chill date plan. High key and hot date to follow later."

Conor's laughter bounces back against the boards as he pulls me along toward the seats. That's when he discovers the extent of Gramps's and my planning, because the sweet old grump got me Conor's skates out of his locker and set them by the door, ready for this moment. And on the nearest seat is the enormous flask with thick, homemade hot chocolate that Mom and Grammie helped me prepare this morning.

Once he's done changing into his skates, Conor grabs my hand and slides onto the ice, and it feels like the beginning to the rest of our lives.