Page 13 of Christmas With A Billionaire

“I was distracted,” she smiled. “You kept stealing my pencils.”

“You kept stealing my heart.” The words slipped out before I could catch them.

Her relaxed fingers stilled around mine and I waited for her to laugh it off like we always did when one of us stepped too close to the truth. Instead, she met my eyes. “Ty...”

The nickname hit me in the chest. She only called me that in moments like this - quiet moments when the walls between us turned paper-thin.

“We should check the climate control system,” I said, breaking the tension and changing the subject. “Make sure this room stays at the right temperature and humidity for the artwork.”

She nodded, letting me retreat to safer ground. I moved to the control panel, pretending to study readings I’d already memorized while my heart rate settled.

“The contractor Marcus recommended called back,” she said after a moment.

“We don’t need them.” My voice came out sharper than intended.

“They could start tomorrow. Get this space ready faster than?—”

“I said no.” I turned to face her. “This is our project, Autumn. Yours and mine. We don’t need outside help.”

“Is that what this is about? You’re worried about Marcus being involved?”

“I’m worried about a lot of things.” I stepped closer. “Like you working yourself to exhaustion. Like these kids losing their chance to show their art. Like?—”

Losing you to Marcus.

Her phone chimed again. This time, she didn’t check it. We were locked onto each other, our eyes never wavering.

“It might be important,” I said, though I wanted to detain her there at this moment.

“I want to know what you were going to say. Like what?” We continued to stare, and I was two seconds away from pulling her into the heat of my mouth when I spoke again.

“We should finish the inventory.”

She stared at me, almost bewildered, but instead of responding she sighed and nodded.

We worked in comfortable silence for a while, but something had shifted. Every accidental touch sparked vigor, and every glance at one another carried an exchange.

Around two in the morning, I found her asleep on a stack of portfolios, just like in college. I draped my jacket over her shoulders and sat watching her breathe, remembering all the reasons I’d never crossed this line before.

But as I carried her to my car to drive her home, her body warm and trusting against my chest, I wondered if those reasons still mattered. If some risks were worth taking, and some lines worth crossing.

She stirred as I buckled her seatbelt. “Ty?”

“Go back to sleep, sweetheart.”

“Stay with me tonight?” Her voice was soft with exhaustion. “Like when we were kids?”

My heart clenched. How often had we fallen asleep in the same bed, pretending we were just friends? How many mornings had I woken up wanting more?

I drove through empty streets, stealing glances at her sleeping form. By the time we reached her building, she was fully asleep again. I carried her up to her apartment, using the key she’d given me years ago.

Inside, I laid her on her bed, removing her shoes but leaving her in my hoodie. As I pulled the blanket over her, she caught my hand.

“Don’t go,” she mumbled.

I peeled off my shoes with the back of my heel, pulled my shirt over my head, and crawled into bed behind her. She fell into a restful slumber easily, yet my mind whirled with thoughts of what could be.

Chapter 6

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