Page 111 of Cross the Line
Twinkle lights snake the trunks, leading us through a glittering, sand-strewn path, glinting red, green, gold.
“Goodness, it looks so different than the last time I came here,” Finley breathes.
“The Christmas parties are always insane, but this is beyond the norm,” I say, inhaling vanilla and coconut threaded with cinnamon and cranberry.
“So much better than the usual wannabe Lapland decor,” Eli muses, turning to walk backward through the tree-lined walkway.
He’s such a grump that when he snags Finley’s hand and swings it to the chirpy beat of the Christmas music, I pause.
“Are you feeling okay?” I laugh as he spins her, rocking her side to side with her back to his chest.
Eli grins and shuffles closer to me until Finley’s squished between us, all three of us laughing.
“Yes!” an excitable voice cuts over the music. “We finally have some happy elves!”
Over Eli’s shoulder, Cecelia is brandishing a hockey stick with mistletoe taped to the end, eyes sparkling like she’s found her natural habitat.
“Merry Christmas, guys,” she croons, hoisting the stick above us with one hand while grabbing a Polaroid from the table. “It’s not Christmas until you’ve kissed under the mistletoe, so…”
I side-eye Eli as he turns to face her. He leans into Finley and kissesher cheek; I mirror him on the other side. We hold until she snaps the shot and hands it to him.
“Make sure you let the photo develop before you touch the film.” Cecelia sips her cocktail, then asks Eli, “Did you get my email about the Christmas present drive for the children’s hospital?”
He nods, arm around Finley’s waist. “I’ll reply tomorrow.”
“Sure thing,” Cecilia sings, shaking her head so the bobble on her Santa hat swings. “Do you mind if I take another photo for the team socials?”
“The same as the last one?” Eli asks.
She gives a pleading grimace, glancing at Finley and me before landing on Eli again. “Please? I think our followers are going to need something cute after Hillier and Andersen’s crazy antics. Dylan couldn’t get out of here fast enough…”
“Dylan’s here?” Eli sounds as surprised as I feel.
“He brought his daughter as his date, and oh my God, she’s so sassy.” Cecilia all but clings to his bicep.
Finley stiffens, and I bite back a laugh. Her jealous streak is hot as hell.
I keep waiting for Eli to pull away, but the back-and-forth is easy. And even with my own insides twisting at someone else’s hand on him, I love seeing him open to the world. He studies the Polaroid while Cecilia chatters, then asks us quietly, “Are you guys okay with taking another photo?”
“Yeah, I’m okay with that. You?” Finley tips her head up at me with an askance pout.
“Totally.” My ribs squeeze around my chest while Eli and I lean in to kiss her cheeks again, but this time, he tips his face so that his eyes are on me.
The gentle squint of his stare, coupled with the light grip of his hand on my forearm across Finley’s back, sends a lance of longing through me. To touch them. To taste them.
To show the whole damn world they’re mine.
As if my need lives in him, Eli turns Finley into his chest, then steps into her body and presses her back into me. When he kisses her lips, my heart pounds into her while I trail my mouth over her cheek.
In a move I don’t see coming, Eli drags his lips to mine by her ear.
“Is this what you need?” He whispers.
“Yes, Love,” Finley hums at the same time as I sigh, “Fuck yes, Sweetheart.”
Eli’s lips press firmly to mine. His kiss isn’t over the top or showy. It’s just his mouth fused to mine in a silent promise that he feels what I feel. All the ache and yearning that lives in me burns in him, too.
Nothing is as good as this. His palm on my jaw, his other hand on our girl’s hip beneath mine, her wispy hums melting deeper into me.
