Accolades for North of Need
- 2012 FF&P PRISM Award Winner for Best Light Paranormal Romance
- Voted 2011 Sizzling Read of the Year at Sizzling Hot Book Reviews
- Chosen as 2011 Best Book of the Year by GraveTells
- Nominated for seven GraveTells 2011 Readers' Choice Awards
Owen sucked in a breath. “You made us snow cones?” His mind reeled. She didn’t realize the significance of what she’d done. Couldn’t have known.
She smiled and nodded. “I made super-duper deluxe chocolate-strawberry snow cones, to be exact.”
“Gimme.” He snatched the cup from her hand. Lighthearted laughter spilled from her pink lips, lighting him up inside. He spooned in a helping of chocolaty snow. “Oh my gods,” he mumbled before he’d even swallowed. The weight of her gaze fell on his mouth, pulling his stare back to her. “You put chocolate on snow.”
“I know, right? It’s fantastic.”
“It’s”—he gobbled another bite—“genius. Inspired.” And beyond the gooey, icy sweetness of the treat—in itself a revelation—the snow infused his system with a nearly electrical charge of energy, vitality. He shuddered. Goosebumps broke out across his skin. Between his legs, he hardened, forcing him to shift to accommodate the tightness. Each scoop hit him like a jolt of B12, caffeine, and Prozac in one. He couldn’t get enough.
And she’d been the one to make him feel this way.
Megan Snow was perfect for him.
She sat watching him, so full of life. Her cup remained untouched.
“Why aren’t you eating?”
She lifted her spoon. “Oh, I was just—”
“Here.” He held out his spoon without thinking about it, but then his need for her to eat from his hands exploded in his chest. Her eyes went wide and her mouth dropped open. Those baby blues flashed up at him, setting off a twisting heat low in his gut. She leaned forward. Wrapped her lips around his spoon.
Aw, hell. His hard-on throbbed. His breathing tripped and his heart took off at a sprint. He scooped another portion into his own mouth, watched her swallow hers. More. Holding out the spoon, he made the offer again and again. Over and over, she accepted. He leaned toward her, and she scooted on her knees closer, and a little closer again, until one knee finally kissed the back of his thigh.
He groaned and continued to feed her, nearly panting now. She held his eyes while she ate, her own breathing audible between them, her chest rising and falling under her coat. In his gut, the snow morphed into raw power, ignited his veins, tingled through his muscles, setting off involuntary twitches here and there that felt like being tickled.
His spoon hit the bottom of the cup, scraped loudly in the confined space of the igloo against the empty plastic.
Megan didn’t miss a beat. A spoonful of her dessert appeared at his lips. “My turn,” she whispered, her voice breathy and low.
Tossing his cup and spoon aside, he devoured what she offered, savored the cold sweetness, drank it down into his belly. She was right there ready with more, then took some for herself. In her haste, red crystals spilled from the spoon down over her chin. A thin line of chocolate edged over her lip.
In a flash, he was on her, powerless to resist any longer. His big hands cupped the back of her neck, tangled in soft curls. Pulled her in. His mouth zeroed in on the flavored snow on her skin, a taste far more heady than the snow alone, all creamy vanilla and soft-scented woman.
He kissed and sucked up her chin to the corner of her mouth, her warm exhalation tingling across his cheek. And then his lips found hers.
The moan she unleashed into his mouth flared in his gut. He dug his fingers into that beautiful mass of silky blonde, held her to him. Urgent, open-mouthed kisses sought her lips, implored her to want him back. When her tongue sneaked forward, flicked his bottom lip, he groaned in triumph.
For a moment, he let her lead. He wanted her to be the one to breach the physical gap between their bodies. To come to him. Finally, the tip of her tongue curled around his, explored his mouth in the most tentative way.
It was all he needed.
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