Page 156 of The Nightmare Before Kissmas
I dive into him, like moving through a heavy liquid, melted gold, until my lips crash to his. He trills in surprise and I know nothing until his arms are thrown around my neck and I bind my hands against the curves of his hips, coming to as his lips move under mine. I brace on him in the ruckus and mayhem of his mouth back beneath me, that mouth, his beautiful goddamn mouth and this beautiful goddamn storm that has me tearing my hand into his hair and rocking back so he’s lifted, so every bit of him is held up by me. He kisses me in a way that will bring me to my knees later, and I think that word like a prayer,later.
Cameras flash, lights out of the corner of my eyes, but they don’t matter. There are no more secrets now. This is our new future, this man in my arms, the way I rock my forehead to his and breathe in his exhale and tug lightly on his hair because I need to remind myself not to float out into incandescent space.
A new song begins. Dancers twirl around us. There are far, fartoo many people here, and we are far, far too exposed for all the thoughts plowing through my head.
But I rest my mouth over his. “Dance with me?”
I taste his grin. “You’re going to have to set me down for that, I think.”
“Under duress, let it be noted.”
“Noted.”
I rest his feet on the floor. I know this song, and imagine sweeping him away into the twirl of couples and the brush of motion, but I hesitate long enough to look down at him.
“I love you,” I tell him. Because last time I said it, it was more sob than truth, and when I say it now, I memorize the way his pupils dilate, the ardent spark of connection as my words hit home and nestle in and heacceptsthem.
His fingers twine in the hair at the base of my neck. He’s silent for one of those intensifying, emotion-brimming moments of him finding himself through his mesmerizing internal noise and I will never in my life be given a greater honor than the way he painstakingly chooses his response for me.
“I love you too,” he says.
I kiss him again, a clumsy layering over of our smiles, and we’re laughing and this, here, is my victory. He is my spoil of war, the most vital piece in my new-forming foundation.
Joy creates magic.
I have never believed that more than with him.
Chapter Twenty-Two
I’m really proud of the fact that I make it through two songs.
But by the end of the second one, we’ve given up trying to emulate a waltz—and it iswe,not just me pushing my body closer to his. He’s hanging onto me, breathing harder with every peal of music, formal dance moves deteriorating into his hips grinding against me and one of us groans, and that’s it.
I grab the back of his head as a new song starts up. “Hex—”
“Yes,” he answers, no,demands.
My breathy laugh billows his hair. “I didn’t even—”
He seizes my wrist, and the next thing I know is a coil of shadow, a brush of chill—
Then we’re in my suite.
I stand stricken for a moment, but Hex is in action. His teeth sink into my neck and his arms tether around my body with none of the propriety of being in public holding him back.
The sensation of having him against me, clawing at me, fogs my brain until I suck in a sharp breath and grab him by the shoulders.
“Hex.” I push him back enough to look at him. “Did you portal us to my suite?”
He fumbles at the buttons on my nutcracker suit. “Mm.”
“From the middle of a crowded ballroom?”
He’s halfway down my chest when his eyes lift to mine. His lips are parted, fingers twisted in the open edges of my jacket, and his brows form a triangle over his pause.
He cringes. “That was probably bad form, wasn’t it?”
I laugh. It turns pitchy and squeaks because this is categoricallyhysterical,but also the proof that he wants me this badly is rationality napalm. Like I honest to god should be concerned by how pliant Iam for him at this moment. What does he want, anything, everything, it’s his, it always was.
