Page 143 of Going Viral for Christmas
Soren’s forearms rest on the table. “Only for theoneI want to wake up next to.”
The tension electrifies instantly. He doesn’t give me time to dodge it.
“I know you’re still stuck on that ‘one-night’ thing,” he says carefully, but there’s steel behind the words. “You’ve been spinning all those thoughts in your head about what this means, what it could destroy, where it leads.”
I take a bite of bacon.
Soren shakes his head. “Nope. Not today, Spiral Goblin. I’m done tussling with your overthinking brain.”
My head tilts.
“The rules have changed.” He pushes his plate to the side and sets his eyes on me. “We won’t post anything. Not a single photo. No ShelfSpace clues, no cryptic quotes,nothing. We’ll disappear off the face of the earth. It’ll be just us in this cabin, no hovering voices telling us to stay relevant. As long as we’re snowed in, ouronenight becomes however many days winter decides.”
“And after that?” My voice is barely above a whisper.
Soren smiles crookedly. “We make some decisions.”
I stare at him. Soren is so calm. So certain. Grounded in a way I never am. I’m envious. And in this moment, with the snow barrelingdown, staring back at him, I decide to stop preparing for disappointment and stop scanning for the exit.
I decide to stay.
“All right.” Exhaling, I let my shoulders drop. “No posts. No pressure.”
His eyes dance with warm mirth.
I pick up a cinnamon roll and take a slow bite, letting it melt on my tongue. “But if you’re going to keep baking, you’ll need to shovel your way out alone when the storm’s over. Because I’m not leaving.”
“Good,” he replies. “Because I’m not letting you go.”
I take another bite. The gooey center is warm and sticky on my fingers. It’s pure heaven.
Soren watches me with an intensity that makes it very clear he’s no longer interested in breakfast.
“How is it?” His voice deepens, rough around the edges.
“Mmm.” I lick icing from the tip of my finger. “It’s obscene. I’ve never had a cinnamon rollthisgood.”
“I will never be normal again after watching you lick your finger like that.”
With a chuckle, I shake my head, pretending to be scandalized when a wild hair sprouts in my chest—sweet and sharp and totally unlike me.
Reach out, I diphisfinger into the leftover icing, and bring it to my mouth. Intentionally. Seductively. Keeping my eyes on his, I drag my tongue along the pad of his finger, then take it between my lips and suck—hopefully making him forget what day it is.
Soren’s chest rises and falls with heavy breaths. And suddenly I feelpowerful. Drunk on sugar and whatever the hell this thing between us is.
“What’s gotten into you?” he asks, voice wickedly wrecked.
I release his finger with a soft pop and smile, more confident than I have any right to be. “Wanted to see what all the fuss was about.”
Shoving his chair back, Soren moves behind me. His hands trail down my arms before settling on my hips. He bends down, lips brushing the shell of my ear.
“You’ve got icing on your mouth.”
“Do I?”
“Mmhm.”
I grab my napkin to wipe it off, but Soren beats me to it and slides one hand up, thumb grazing the corner of my lips.
