Ivy fought a giggle when the barn door opened. But it was no use. She was caught.
Pippin was grinning quite wickedly when he entered the stall. He didn’t say anything, just grabbed her hands and slipped the icicle down her neck.
She squealed at the cold, then gasped when his warm mouth latched on to where the ice had left a trail on her neck. He pulled open her coat and his tongue followed the trail down, stopping at the low neck of her dress.
He pulled back, breathing hard. “I’ll be so glad when we’re married,” he sighed.