Page 32 of Yule Know It When You See It
Despite this gorgeous hunk of Norwegian man in front of me. Regardless of how much I want what I know is about to happen, it’s enough to have tears forming in my eyes.
“Hey, now.” He wipes the tears away, one, then the other. “I’ve been hurt too. My last ex not only cheated on me but stole thousands of dollars from me when I broke it off with her. But—”
Whoever this woman is, I hate her already. Cheaters are the absolute scum of the galaxy, and tostealon top of it? She must be Ursula in the flesh, and I secretly hope she has tentacles like her too.
“Axel, that is awful. No one should treatanyonelike that.” I squeeze his arm with my free hand.
Axel takes that hand, somehow managing an inviting smile despite the topic of conversation, and holds it. “Butwhat’s love if not risking fear every once in a while? It doesn’t seem like it’d be as special to me.”
My heart becomes the nut about to be cracked by the wooden soldier, and Iletit.
“Are you sure you’re not a romance writer?” I bite back a grin and edge closer to him, gulping at the hardness I feel pressing against my stomach. Heat pools in my stomach when he doesn’t shy away from it, only pressing further into me.
His giant hands lift to my face, thumbs barely tracing my cheekbones. The rough calluses against my skin have my toes curling in my boots. Axel’s gaze locks with mine, but it drops to my lips for a breath as if giving me an unspoken cue about what he intends to do.
For the love of anything holy, I need him to justdoit.
His eyes lock back to mine, and he tilts his head to one side, a cocky grin pulling at the corner of his mouth as I’m already parting my lips. He’s blissfully torturing me and knows it. His bottom lip brushes my top, a feather-like touch that leaves a whispered feeling behind. He pulls back only far enough so our mouths don’t touch, but the closeness has our hot breath turning smoky from the cold, curling together in sensual tendrils.
Snow flurries begin to fall in glittering cascades around us, collecting in our hair and coats. The surrounding holiday lights make each flake pearlescent, casting shades of blue, purple, and pink fluttering like tiny, descending star beams. Axel moves one hand to my nape, his thumb trailing my collarbone, and then he bends forward andkissesme.
This is nothing like the stadium kiss. This is private and magical and so utterly perfect I want to squeal. But I don’t. I can save the girly shrieks of delight for when I’m back in the safety of my apartment—alone.
His beard tickles my chin, but not enough to make me giggle. Instead, it sparks agonizing curiosity about how this beard would feelelsewhere. The thought has me whimpering into his mouth, my arms wrapping his neck. I rise on the balls of my feet, eager to bring us closer from our near colossal height difference. His tongue skirts the seam between my lips, and I open my mouth to him, our tongues twining together in a rhythmic dance. He leans forward, using his weight to guide me back to my feet, and bends to me, canting his head from left to right, taking the kiss deeper, more feral.
Axel moves a hand to the back of my head, fingers bunching my hair. His other arm encircles my waist, and he curves me backward, almost to the point of dipping me. Lazily, reluctantly, we pull away and stare at each other with hooded lids. Snowflakes have collected on my eyelashes, giving him a shimmering halo until I blink them away. And I know it’s trope-y and cliché, but I swear I really do let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding the entire freakingtime.
He pinches my chin with three fingers and wiggles it, grinning. “Better than the Kiss Cam?”
Is he kidding? This has thrown my entire outlook onlifeoff its axis.
“What do you think?” With a pluckiness I didn’t know I possessed, I slide my thigh up his hips, my non-gloved hand kneading the back of his neck.
A gravelly moan bubbles in the back of his throat, and his hand moves under my knee, hiking my leg further. “As much as I would love to continue this, we’re still in the middle of a walking path in downtown Chicago, in below-freezing temperatures, and we should probably try and at least catch the last period of the game.”
Being in one’s right mind blows.
“Fine. Fine. You’re right. Between that blonde hair and the snow you’re starting to look like Santa Claus anyway.” I laugh and brush the snow from his beard.
Smiling, he glares at me and shoves his beard in my face, swiping wetness over my cheeks. I shriek and wildly wave my hands at him.
“Could you do me one quick favor, though?” I ask, chewing on my bottom lip.
He’s jostling more flakes from his beard and sneaks a quick peck on my forehead. “Anything.”
“Would you—” I pause, making a steeple with my fingers and turning my hands upside down to reveal the “people” inside. “—pick me up and do a few twirls? I’ve always thought of this cute and beautiful scene in the snow where—”
Before I can finish, he’s holding me with one arm under my knees, the other supporting my back. I yelp in delight, wrapping one of my arms around his neck, the other raising to the skies to catch snowflakes in my palm. The next instance, he has us turning so many circles the world blurs around me, and I let out the snorting cackle I do when inexplicably, uncontrollably, and deliriously happy.
* * *
We get back in time to see the last fifteen minutes of the game, and I manage to take several notes on observing how supportive some of the players’ wives are compared to others. Some look as if they’d prefer to be anywhere else other than a hockey game, and I intend to ask them as many questions as the happier ones. Axel gets access to the press area of the locker room to interview players while I head straight for the green room, where the families wait for their guys.
I catch myself smiling like a fool as I make my way through the hallway, the feel of his beard tickling my lips and chin still very much there like a phantom touch. And the ever-rising heat between us both sexually and physically, combined with the cool wetness from descending snow, made a surreal mix of icy hot I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to let go of.
With my press badge hanging visibly from a lanyard around my neck, I push through the green room doors to dozens of women and children chattering at tables. A table of various snacks, including cheese, crackers, holiday cookies, bags of chips, and fruit, rests in the corner. Another side table has bottled water, sodas, and select alcoholic beverages. I grab a water, scanning the women and studying them before deciding on asking one for an interview.
A beautiful brunette sits with two children who both under ten, running circles around her. She sighs, hanging her head in her hand. “I told you all a dozen times, do not run. Please.”
