Caroselli's Christmas Baby. Michelle Celmer

as if he were seeing her for the first time. “That was …”

      “Wow,” she agreed. If she had known kissing Nick would be like that, she might have tried it a long time ago.

      “Are you still worried about us being incompatible?” he asked.

      “Somehow I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”

      “Do you feel weird?”

      “Weird?”

      “You said before that you were afraid things might get weird between us.”

      The only thing she felt right now was turned-on, and ready to kiss him again. “It’s difficult to say after one kiss.”

      “Oh, really?” he said, tugging her closer. “Then I guess we’ll just have to do it again.”

      Four

      Their second kiss was even better than the first, and this time when Nick stopped and asked, “Feeling weird yet?” instead of answering, Terri just pulled him in for number three. And she was so wowed by the fact that it was Nick kissing her, Nick touching her, that she didn’t really think about where he was touching her. Not until his hand slid down over the back pocket of her jeans, then everything came to a screeching halt.

      She backed away and looked at him. “Your hand is on my butt.”

      “I know. I put it there.” He paused, then said, “Am I moving too fast?”

      Was he? Was it too much too soon? Was there some sort of schedule they were supposed to follow? A handbook for friends who become lovers to have a baby? As long as it felt good, as long as they both wanted it, why stop?

      And boy, did it feel good.

      “No,” she said. “You’re not moving too fast. If you were, would I be thinking how much better it would feel if my jeans were off?”

      He made a growly noise deep in his chest and kissed her hard, but despite that shameless invitation into her pants, he kept his hands on the outside of her clothes. And no matter where she touched him, how she rubbed up against him, or encouraged him with little moans of pleasure, he didn’t seem to be getting the hint that she was ready to proceed.

      When he did finally slide his hand under her shirt, she felt like pumping her fist in the air, and shouting, “Yes!” But then he just kept it there. It wasn’t that it didn’t feel good resting just above the waist of her jeans, but she was sure it would feel a whole lot better eight inches or so higher and slightly to the left.

      She pulled back and said, “If you felt the need to touch my breast, or pretty much any other part of my anatomy, I wouldn’t stop you.”

      Looking amused, he said, “It’s not often a woman tells me I’m moving too slow.”

      “I could play coy, but what’s the point? We both know we’re going to end up in bed tonight.”

      His brows rose. “We do?”

      “Can you think of a reason we shouldn’t?”

      When most men would have jumped at the offer, he actually took several seconds to think about it. Which for some strange reason made her want it even more. It was crazy to think that on Wednesday she wouldn’t have even considered a physical relationship with him, but two days and a couple kisses later, she couldn’t wait to get him out of his clothes. And if he turned her down, she was going to be seriously unhappy.

      After a brief pause he shrugged and said, “Nothing is coming to mind.”

      The way she figured it, their friendship had been leading up to this, even if they hadn’t realized it. That equated to about twenty years of foreplay. Technically, no one could say they were rushing things. “So why are we still standing in the kitchen?”