Page 43 of Mistletoe Meet Cute
It was a photo op.
A crowd pleaser.
It wasn’t supposed to be real... So why do my lips still tingle like I’ve been branded? Claimed?
I look down at the now-cold cocoa and wonder if adding a shot of whiskey to it might help me sleep or maybe just help me forget, when I hear it. The soft creak of the floorboards. For a professional athlete, Camden’s certainly not light on his feet.
My heart slams against my ribs as I turn and find him standing behind me, so similar to that night after the game... the one that started all this. Barefoot in black sleep pants and a white T-shirt that clings to every hard line of his chest. He makes my mouth water.
“I was looking for you,” he murmurs.
My throat tightens as I put the cold cocoa down and stand, wanting to feel like I’m on equal footing. Like that’s going to help or something. “You found me.”
“Sophie’s asleep.” He crosses the room slowly, each step measured and deliberate.
The air between us hums with electricity, and my pulse sparks as he stops barely a step away. His body crowding mine until the family room feels smaller and hotter because now he’s here.
His eyes search mine, but I’m not sure what they’re looking for...
Permission?
Forgiveness?
“The tree lighting was nice,” I manage to force passed my lips breathlessly as my heart races in my chest. “Rosie seemed to love it. Sophie too.”
“Yeah...” He reaches up and gently moves a lock of my hair behind my shoulder, sending a shiver skirting down my spine. “The kids. The fans... You.”
“Me?” I smile, a denial right there on the tip of my tongue, but it would be a lie.
Camden steps impossibly closer, his gaze dropping to my mouth and heating like molten hot lava. “You looked happy, Holly. Like there was nowhere else you’d rather be.”
“I like Christmas.” I laugh softly as my nerves get tangled up with want and need. “It’s kind of my thing.”
“I know.” He smiles, his words reaching out like a soft caress as he takes one more step closer. “As if all the decorating and your own personal style weren’t enough, Luke told me you’re a Christmas Eve baby. Mistletoe is in your veins.” He looks up at the sprig I have hanging in the doorway and swallows.
“You make that sound like a flaw,” I tease, testing the waters.
“No.” His voice drops to a beautifully low tenor. “It’s one of the things I—” He stops, his jaw clenching as indecision wars behind his eyes. “Never mind.”
“Camden . . .” I whisper, unsure what to say.
He brushes the backs of his knuckles along my cheek, and my breath catches in my throat. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
“Trying to,” I admit softly, barely above a whisper. “But you’re hard to avoid.”
One dimple pops in his cheek.
“I’m your nanny, Camden. That makes you?—”
“Completely out of my fucking mind?” He leans in close enough for his warm breath to fan my face. “In case you weren’t sure.”
My heart hammers a staccato beat. “This is dangerous.”
He nods slowly, dark-green eyes blown wide with want. “Then why can’t I walk away?”
Before I can answer, his fingers slide under my chin, tilting my face up to his. The world around me narrows to a single pinpoint until all I can see is him. His eyes on my face. His mouth inches from mine. “Tell me to stop, vixen,” Camden growls. “Tell me to stop, and I will. Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll never ask again.”
I should tell him no. That he needs to stop. That I need space.
