Page 9 of Going Viral for Christmas
“Mm. Judging by the crowd, you’re running a full-on support group.”
His eyes darken with amusement. “You sound jealous.”
“Hardly,” I shoot back. “Though I am curious. Does it grant wishes and orgasms on contact, or is that just part of the folklore? It’s been fondled more times today than I care to count.”
Soren’s grin goes pure mischief. “Only one way to find out.”
I scoff. “Right. Let me guess—step into the enchanted realm, hike up my skirt, and moan your name?”
“Only if you want the deluxe package. Includes a sticker pack, a commemorative T-shirt, and the sudden inability to think about anyone else.”
I’m smiling, despite myself. “Wow. Did that line come with a training manual or years of unchecked ego?”
Soren steps closer. The air tightens. “No manual. Only excellent instincts.”
I lift my chin. “Funny. My instincts are telling me to run.”
“Toward or away?”
The moment stretches between us like taffy, sweet and tension-filled, daring someone to make the next move.
Show them fire.
I offer a sugar-laced smile. “This has been fun, Pembry. Truly. But, enough games. I’ve got a panel to carry.”
“Ouch.” Soren presses a hand to his chest in mock pain. “Right in the ego. I see you’re bringing your A-game today.”
“Not even my best stuff. I’m savingthatfor when the cameras are rolling.”
“Guess I’ll have to step it up, then.” Soren leans down toward my ear, the heat in his words licking across my skin. “Let’s give ’em a show, shall we?”
The volunteer standing next to Soren—Jade, her nametag says—clears her throat pointedly. “If you two are done flirting, wereallyneed to get you mic’d up.”
Heat prickles at the base of my neck, crawling all the way to my scalp. “We weren’t—” I begin, too fast.
“That wasn’t—” Soren says at the same time, far too calmly.
Jade arches a brow. “Mhm.”
Smooth,waytoo satisfied with himself, Soren laughs. “That’s a new one for us.”
My head tilts.
Light, almost silver, storm-colored eyes slide to mine, lazy and amused. “Though if wewereflirting, I’d probably open stronger. Less mutual denial, more meaningful pressure.”
“We weren’t flirting,” I snap with force, hoping it’ll erase the heat lingering in my cheeks along with the flutter in my stomach–the one I’m trying very hard to ignore.
Soren’s grin deepens, full of slow-burning trouble and quiet ego. “Noted. But for the record, if wewere–”
“We weren’t,” I cut him off.
Was I?
Was he?
No. No, absolutely not.
Except maybe?—
