“Mmm.”
My kisses or the candy cane he’d chewed, Mickey was enjoying something. Since he kept coming back to my mouth, I assumed it was me. His hand was still on my chest, and I put mine on his, right against the orange Denton High Dragon on his shirt. The flame from the dragon’s mouth or the heat from having my hand on Mickey was suddenly hot enough to almost burn my palm. When he closed his lips around mine a fifth or sixth time, our breaths became suddenly shallow.
“Gimme more.”
“Candy cane?” I asked. “I brought two.”
“I coulda had my own?”
“What fun would that have been?”
“None at all.” Mickey’s heart started to pound, no faster than mine, really, which was racing. Our heads moved. We moaned a little, and I got my tongue in there a few times to taste the mint still on his mouth.
