Читать книгу His Kind of Perfection - Pamela Hearon - Страница 3

“Merry Christmas, Kale.”

The greeting came out much too quietly for the happy occasion, but her breath caught in her throat when he pulled her to him in a hug and his soft lips brushed her earlobe.

“Merry Christmas, Bree.” His breath scampered down her neck, where it should have been stopped by the shawl collar of her sweater. Instead, she could swear she felt it meandering its way down both her front and back, leaving a trail of warmth, then coming to a halt low in her belly and just hanging there like the high-pressure front before a storm.

Once she pulled away, she managed to get her breathing back under control as she helped him out of his overcoat. Beneath it were the same clothes he’d worn to the party at the gym, looking even better from ten more days of training.

She bit her bottom lip to keep from licking it.