“His gaze wandered over my face like a caress. “I can’t stop thinking about kissing you.”
I ran my hand up his chest, my voice suddenly a raw whisper, each word a puff of fog. “What are you waiting for?”
A playful gleam sparked in his dark eyes, and suddenly he was on the move, gripping my hand as we wove through the people toward a dimly lit archway.
He stopped underneath and pointed up. “Finally found some mistletoe.”
―
Lisa Kessler,
The Lone Wolf's Wish