Page 11 of 'Tis the season of Wicked Deeds

But if I tell him the truth, I’ll succeed in proving him I’m batshit crazy. That instead of being adults, I let my stupid best friend convince me to agree to this plan rather than confront him herself. We’re walking down the sparsely crowded lobby, almost to the door, and I sigh in displeasure.

He hears it.

“Fuck this.”

I hear Julian curse a second before he drags me into a secluded corner, tilts my chin as he pushes my back against the wall, and seals our lips together. I gasp into his mouth, giving him entrance, and moan when our tongues collide, tasting each other.

Just like everything about him, his taste and kiss are perfect.

Seductive. Commanding. Addictive.

Everything at once.

Yanked into his orbit, lost to the world and reasoning, I rise on my toes and thread my fingers in his silky hair. He groans huskily, biting down on my lip punishingly. Pleasure swarms my senses, turning my body pliable against his.

In the midst of our passionate kiss, his hands don’t take advantage in roaming freely over my overheated body. His palms cup my cheek gently while his mouth devours mine savagely until I’m certain he’ll leave my lips swollen, red, and tasting of him long after we part ways.

Then all too soon, he ends the best kiss of my life and puts several inches of space between us. His body no longer anchoring mine, I slowly blink back to reality.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I fucked up. He thinks I’m Tina, which means he’ll think she’s interested after all. Damn it, I threw water all over the last hour. I look up at him, his chest rising and falling as rapidly as mine. The dark lust staring back at me has my pussy clenching.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” I rush to say, salvaging what I can.

“Say my name.”

I frown, startled. “Why?”

“Say it,Tina.”

I flinch upon hearing my best friend’s name from lips that kissed me possessively a mere second ago. I open my mouth but the words don’t form. Instead, I demand, “What will it prove?”

“It’ll tell me everything I need to know.”

One second passes as we keep staring at each other.

Two.

Three.

“No,” I whisper, unable to cross the invisible line. Instead, I lift my chin high and fuel my veins with misplaced rage, and offensively accuse, “What is wrong with you? You had no right to kiss me after I told you I did not want you. This just sealed my decision to never meet again.”

The spark I gazed into throughout our sham of a date disappears from his eyes.

My heart deflates when he utters solemnly, “You’re right, darling. We aren’t compatible. Goodbye.”

CHAPTER – 5

Twinkle

(Six months later)

My favorite time of the year is the holidays. Especially Christmas and New Year’s Eve. The two occasions I’ve always looked forward to the most.

My mom being Catholic Indian, we used to celebrate with big traditional dinners, opening presents, and dancing to music all night long when I was a kid.

Until my parents split apart.

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