Free Getting In the Spirit: a Sapphire Falls novella by Erin Nicholas

having to wiggle much.
    “Want to feel you up against me.” He met her gaze as their chests rubbed against one another as he divested himself of his coat as well.
    She was totally on board with that.
    He tossed his coat into the seat next to them and then slid to the middle of the truck seat, taking them out from behind the steering wheel.
    “The air warm enough?” he asked.
    Was the air in the truck warm enough? Did Rudolph’s nose light up? She nodded. “I’m very warm.”
    He grinned and put his hands on either of her hips and started bunching the material of her skirt higher and higher on her thighs. “You tell me if you need any more heat anywhere.”
    “Will do.” She squirmed to help the process, and as soon as the tight skirt was high enough that she could get her knees apart—and it had to go pretty high for that to happen—she pivoted to straddle his lap.
    The bulge behind his fly was evident, and she moaned softly as he pressed her against it, lifting his hips slightly to meet her. Heat was not going to be a problem.
    She had to taste him, had to get her hands on as much of him as she could, had to feel him against her everywhere.
    She ran her fingers into his hair, holding his head so she could kiss him deeply. But the minute his hands slid under the edge of her dress and cupped her ass—the cheeks bare because of the thong she wore—she knew she was in no way in control here.
    He growled softly as his hands met the bare, still-cold-to-the-touch skin. He ripped his mouth away. “A thong in December in Nebraska? Aren’t you asking for trouble there?”
    But it wasn’t trouble from the icy temperatures that first came to mind when she looked into his eyes. “I’m not too worried about that part of my body getting real cold with you around,” she told him.
    He squeezed her flesh, causing tingles to shoot from his hands straight to her clit. “Damn right.”
    Then he kissed her again. She was holding his head, sitting on top of him, but it was clear that Tucker was taking over.
    His tongue was bold and hot and stroked along hers as one of his hands boldly stroked underneath the curve of her right butt cheek. He traced the pad of his finger over the string of the thong, following it forward to where she was hot and already wet.
    He pulled his mouth away again, looking straight into her eyes as he stroked over the hot silk between her legs again. “If you don’t already taste like peppermint candy here, you’re going to,” he told her in a husky voice that made her even wetter.
    She licked her lip, trying to figure out what to say other than holy shit, yes .
    “Oh yeah, you’ll get a taste too,” he promised in a dark, deep voice.
    Kate felt her inner muscles clench. Damn, the guy had bought her hot chocolate, cuddled her on a park bench and now was about to make her come just talking about the things he wanted to do.
    Best Christmas ever.
    “On second thought,” she said, nearly panting. “Maybe you should buy every candy cane in town.” She suddenly had some interesting holiday inspiration of her own.
    “That’s my girl,” he whispered, covering her lips with his again.
    His girl.
    The only thing that phrase should have done was yank Kate out of this crazy daze and make her realize that all of this that she was feeling was impossible. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.
    But instead, she climbed that much closer to an orgasm.
    In a truck. With a farmer’s work-roughened, tough, can-do-anything hand stroking over her.
    He ran his finger over her clit. There was still a scrap of satin between them, but she felt it as if he’d touched her with a live wire. The jolt went through her, curling her toes, and she tipped her head back. She wasn’t sure why she—or any woman—actually did that, but it felt good.
    “Nipples,” he rasped, stroking her again. “I need to taste you.”
    Without anything close to a rational thought, she reached behind for the zipper. So far, she was a huge