CHAPTER TWELVE
DONNY BURST THROUGH the door of the cabin without stopping to knock the excess snow off his shoes. Lizzie looked up from her spot by the fire, one eyebrow raised, then looked away from him again.
He strode with purpose across the room, pulled her up out of the chair, crushed her body against his, and devoured her mouth.
She pushed away from him.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” she demanded, even as the heat he’d generated in her shone brightly in her eyes.
“You are,” he growled in frustration.
“Me? Me? That’s rich. You kissed me, and then you bailed. You wander off outside without a word, and then you march back in here like you own the place and kiss me again, and I’m the problem?”
“Yes,” he snapped. “You make me feel.”
“Feel what?” she retorted, hands on hips.
