He ran his hands up and down her arms soothingly, then kissed the top of her head. And now it was raining, too. “Now all you need are some cookies.”
“Well,” he said softly, taking the mug from her hands and setting it down, “I think maybe I could use some mistletoe.”
Nnamdi took her face in his hands and kissed her gently. Ifeoma pulled the hood of her cardigan forward over her eyes, even though it did no good. Then he grabbed her hands and pulled her to her feet. “Hmm…” Nnamdi mused, while they idled at a stop light. “Looks like we both lost a strip poker game,” he joked, and Ifeoma giggled, a little nervously. Piercing brown eyes — probably her best feature, but always behind her ever-present glasses. As she stood there mentally counting her pocket change, a car pulled up to the curb and the passenger window slid down slowly. Her Tips felt super sensitive, rubbing against the soft cotton, and she brought her hands up under the covers to tweak them and pull on them, teasing them into aching little peaks.
