Page 10 of My Ex for Christmas
“I don’t remember you being this clumsy,” he says. His eyes sparkle with amusement.
“You can put me down now,” I say, cheeks flaming.
He lowers me to the floor and takes a step back. I smooth a hand down my front, righting my blouse, and then I turn. As soon as I put pressure on my right foot, my ankle twinges, making me stumble.
“Whoa there.” Brooks grabs my elbow, steadying me. “What’s wrong?”
“I think I hurt my ankle when I”—made an absolute fool of myself—“fell.”
He looks down at my feet and then back up, expression stern. “Why are you climbing a ladder in stilettos?”
I huff. “I don’t need a safety lesson. I’m fine.” I shake his hand away from my arm. “I’ll walk it off.”
Before I can so much as take a step, Brooks scoops me into his arms again and starts heading toward the back office. Despite my protests, which he ignores, he carries me all the way there and then sets me on top of the desk.
Strangely, I feel like something is missing when he lets me go.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I ask.
“Checking your ankle to see if you sprained it,” he replies.
“Last I checked, you weren’t a doctor.”
He shrugs. “Youhavebeen gone a long time, Hads. Things change.”
I roll my eyes. “Not that much.”
“Fine. But can you at least take a second before you jump back in headfirst?”
“I can’t! I have to get back to work!"
Work, where I have a million things to do. My email inbox is likely growing by the second. I know I have a message from Mia, the events manager, that I need to respond to.
“Your work will still be there infive minutes.”
Crossing my arms, I say, “You can’t just keep me here against my will.” He ignores me. “Brooks?—”
Next thing I know, he’s leaning into my space. My thighs are parted, leaving room for him to step between them. He places his hands on the desk on either side of me, caging me in. I have nowhere to run—if I wanted to run.
But…I don’t think I want to.
The other day under the mistletoe caught me off guard. This feels different. And for once, I let myself sink into the idea of what it would be like to kiss him again.
The scent of his cologne washes over me, like the night I saw him at Dirty Dick’s. And meeting those brown eyes… God, they’re so pretty. Getting lost in them has always made the rest of the world go quiet.
It’s been eight years, but it doesn’t feel like it when he’s staring at me likethat. My blood heats, roaring in my ears. Am I really that hard-up? Apparently I am, because I have the urge to wrap my legs around his hips and pull him even closer.
And it’s because of all this that I do something I probably shouldn’t.
Uncrossing my arms, I grab him by the shirtfront and then drag his mouth to mine. The press of his lips is familiar, but the ferocity with which he kisses me back is new. We took our time when we were younger, exploring each other. But there is nothing slow or exploratory about this kiss.
This kiss is a pillage.
I hardly register throwing my arms around his neck. With one hand still braced on the desk, Brooks uses the other to angle my jaw the way he wants it. His fingers are warm against my skin. Familiar. Everything about this feels comfortable, like I’m taking my first deep breath after the longest time without air.
When we pull apart, my eyes blink open, and then they go wide. Oh, no. I just kissed my ex. I justmade outwith my ex. This is all Sam’s fault. She filled my head with these stupid ideas and now…
“Oh, God,” I say. I touch my swollen lips with shaking fingers. “I am so sorry.”
