Page 188 of Going Viral for Christmas
Yeah. No. I want the word.
“Hey,” I say, casually.Toocasually, maybe. I sound suspicious. “Random question.”
She narrows her eyes. “That never ends well.”
“Would you say,” I begin, drawing the syllables out as though I’m prepping for a dramatic reading, “that we are…label toeing?”
Ava’s face scrunches in confusion. “Label toeing?”
I nod solemnly. “Yeah. You know—like camel toeing, except with relationships. A little too tight, a little too obvious, but we’re all pretending not to see it.”
Ava’s cheeks flush, but her glare could slice me in half. “Oh my God. You did not just compare me to a wedged-in yoga pant situation.”
“Metaphorically speaking,” I say, smirking. “It’s the part where we toe the line without crossing it. Except in my head, I may or may not have just called you my girlfriend.”
“Just now?” she asks.
“Literally two sips ago,” I admit. “I didn’t mean to. It was a reflex. Like breathing. Or stealing prop antlers.”
Her lips twitch. “So you’re telling me I’ve been demoted to a hypothetical mental girlfriend?”
I grin. “No, I’m trying to find out if you’d consider being officiallyupgradedto something with capital letters. I mean…I told you I love you, soooo…”
Ava’s eyes soften. The moment stretches a breath, long enough for me to panic. And then she leans over the table, grabs a sugar packet, and flicks it at my chest.
“Well, if I’m going to be labeled, I expect stickers. Glittery ones. Or maybe edible.”
“Done,” I say, instantly relieved and also a tad hard. “I’ll text Camille. She probably already has branded relationship stationery.”
Ava rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “You’re lucky you’re cute, Pembry.”
“You’re lucky I’ve already mentally monogrammed your initials next to mine.”
Ava leans across the tiny café table, her robe slipping and showing those beautiful breasts of hers. I meet her halfway, cupping her cheek and kissing her deeply. I’ve earned the right to every inch of her. Repeatedly. In holiday-themed headwear.
She tastes sweet, like mocha and mischief, and when I deepen our kiss, her breath catches a little. My hand slips beneath the robe, grazing over soft skin and lower, lower—until I find her slick and waiting.
“Goddamn, Bells,” I murmur against her mouth. “You’re alreadythiswet for me?”
She bites her bottom lip, eyes dancing. “You do things to me, Pembry.”
I drag my thumb through her arousal. “I’m going to fuck mygirlfriend’spussy so hard, they’re going to hear it at the North Pole.”
“Harder than last night?” she asks, breathy, teasing.
I growl. “Harder than?—”
BANG BANG BANG.
We both freeze.
The knocking isintense.Someone’s trying to break down the fucking door. And I’m about to break their fucking face.
“Soren?” a voice calls. Camille. “Ava? Are you decent?”
Ava yanks her robe shut. I glimpse at the very not-decent state of my lap.
Fisher’s voice comes next, too cheerful to be trusted. “There’s been a… situation. We need you to open the door. Now.”
