Excerpt from Ten Minutes for Christmas

“Go back inside.”

She steps closer and tips up her chin. “No.”

“Listen to me.”

“No,” she repeats. “I don’t have to listen to you. You’re not my brother.”

Our breath curls together in the cold air as we stand almost toe to toe.

“You’re right. I’m not.” I grab her hand and yank her into the shadows of the garage. The smell of oil and rusting nails surround us. I’m desperate to taste her, I can’t seem to breathe. I hear the rush of air leave her lungs as I pull her to me and crush my lips against hers. I kiss her more forcefully than I plan. Everything. Everything that’s happened over the past months comes out. I try and stop the flood of emotion, but I can’t.

Cupping her face in my hands, I mold my mouth again to hers and delve my tongue into the crease between her lips. I taste warm peppermint from a candy cane she ate. The kiss is amazing and for a moment all else falls away. For once, I don’t question tomorrow. It’s now.

I pull back only long enough to fix my gaze on her beautiful, upturned face. A pink blush flushes her cheeks. She closes her eyes and places her cheek against the palm of my hand.

I force myself to take a breath and drop my head again until our lips meet. This time, I take my time. The kiss is slow and moving, I linger until I hear her sigh.