Page 27 of The Night Before Grumpmas
“You’re impossible,” she mutters, clearly trying to regain control, but I can hear the wobble in her voice.
“Impossible?” I laugh, a dark edge to my tone. “Sweetheart, I haven’t even started yet. But trust me, when I’m done with you, the only thing you’ll want to deck are my balls.”
“It doesn’t matter. There’s no deal,” she snaps, but I can hear the waver in her voice. “Though, you really need to learn to like the holidays.”
No. That’s something I definitely don’t need to learn. Mom tried for years, and the more she pushed it, the more I fucking hated it. The songs are too damn cheery, the lights are too bright, and everything smells like a fucking candle factory exploded. It’s all too much, too overwhelming.
Which is exactly why I need to figure out a way to stop her from overwhelming me.
“You sure?” I ask, letting my voice drop low, laced with heat. “It sounded like you were considering it. Or maybe”—I pause, the words dripping with insinuation—”you were considering the part where I kiss you. Kiss you like you’ve never been kissed before. Where I fuck you so hard, so deep, you’ll be begging for more, screaming my name until you can’t think straight. I’ll make sure you’re wet, trembling, and dripping down your thighs—again and again—until you realize no man’s ever touched you like I would.”
There’s a brief pause before she huffs. Her exasperation is obvious, but there’s something else in her voice too. Something more. Probably embarrassment, but maybe . . . curiosity? I know her secret, and it’s killing her that I do.
And honestly? I don’t get why she’s so worked up about it. There’s nothing wrong with having only been with one guy all her life, just like there’s nothing wrong with never dating and just fucking whoever the hell you want. But now that I know? Fuck, it’s impossible not to tease her about it. To want to remedy her problem, and teach her how a man should make her feel while having sex.
“There’s no deal,” she insists.
“What the fuck?” I taunt, smirking even though she can’t see me. “You’re backing out now? I’m still up for it, as long as you let me kiss you. Besides, you’re adorable when you get all flustered like this. I can fluster you even more.”
“What?!” she squeaks, her voice going an octave higher. “Don’t call me adorable. That’s not . . . I’m not adorable. I’m serious.”
Her reaction makes me grin even wider. I can practically picture her—cheeks flushed, lips parted, looking like she’s two seconds away from combusting. And fuck, it just makes me want to push her even further. “Sure, you’re serious,” I say, my voice thick with amusement. “But that doesn’t mean you’re not adorable. In fact, I’d bet you look even more adorable when I’ve got you pinned under me, your body shaking as I make you scream my name.”
I hear a groan through the wall. “You’re impossible.”
“Fine,” I reply, unable to hide the amusement in my voice. “But just so we’re clear, the offer stands. Anytime you want.”
“No way,” she shoots back, her voice laced with disbelief. “You’re impossible, Jacob McCallister. And if you think I’d ever consider that . . . well, you’ve officially lost your mind.”
I chuckle, leaning against the wall. “And you’re decorating the entire damn building in tinsel. Seems like we’re even.”
“There’s nothing even about it. I’m making people happy,” she counters, her voice full of determination. “You, on the other hand, are . . . What exactly are you trying to accomplish by promising something you can’t even deliver?”
I smirk, my voice dripping with confidence. “Kiss you senseless? Sweetheart, I could give you the best kiss you’ve ever had, and trust me, you’d be begging for more. As a bonus, it’ll make you very, very happy.”
“Wow,” she huffs, sarcasm practically oozing through the wall. “You’re not just arrogant—you’re delusional. And somehow, you think this is a good idea?”
“It would be an excellent idea if it weren’t for the part where you want me to go caroling or . . . wait, what is it you want me to do, exactly? And for how long?” I ask, still unsure what the hell I’ve signed up for.
“Nothing,” she snaps back, her tone sharp. “You can continue with your very sad, very anti-holiday existence, and I’ll stay blissfully ignorant of whatever you call your ‘amazing mouth.’”
It is amazing but I won’t repeat myself, there has to be another way to convince her to let me have a taste and take all the cheer of the holiday down.
“But seriously, when are the decorations coming down?” I counter. “Wasn’t the whole point of this conversation to get rid of your pre-Christmas extravaganza or whatever? Because, honestly, your tinsel addiction is spiraling out of control. And, as I’ve already mentioned, it’s ridiculous to decorate when Halloween was, like, less than twenty-four hours ago.”
“Oh, right. I promised to take the decorations down if—and only if—you learned the real meaning of . . . maybe happiness. You’re way too grumpy,” she says, her voice annoyingly cheery.
“Ugh, you sound like my sister,” I grumble. “She said I’ve gone from grumpy to full-on Grinch, and if I keep this up, I’ll end up as the next Scrooge.”
“She’s right, and if two people are saying the same thing, it’s probably true,” she says somehow victorious.
This just confirms my theory: if these two ever meet, it’ll be catastrophic. The world might implode—at least mine will. I need to make sure Audrey never visits, not until Noelle is out of here. Which reminds me—I need to call that private investigator Caleb recommended. He’s tracking down the owner of this apartment so I can buy it. He’s also confirming that good old Mrs. Holiday is really just on vacation in Arizona.
If I can buy the apartment and get Noelle evicted, there’ll be no more holiday madness, and my Christmas will finally be peaceful. No more twinkling lights, no fucking carols at all hours. Just silence.
“You really are such a Scrooge,” she teases, her voice dripping with amusement. “Maybe I should have pity on you since it’s obvious you need my help. This weekend, we’ll go to Winterbury—a charming little town in Vermont—do some apple picking, drink hot cider, embrace the holiday spirit.”
I nearly choke on my own annoyance. “Why the fuck would I ever want to do that?”
