Page 119 of Holiday Romance
“No?”
“No, I’m emotionally very healthy and—” I yelp, laughing as he pushes me onto the couch.
“You’re a terrible liar,” he says, leaning down. I turn away at the last second, still laughing, but he doesn’t seem to mind, his lips meeting my throat like that was his intended target all along.
He nuzzles into me, gentle at first and then hard enough that it sends my pulse fluttering.
I push at his shoulders, wanting a real kiss, but he doesn’t budge, concentrating on the soft patch of skin where my neck meets my shoulder before drifting a trail to right below my ear. One hand pushes my hair back, the strands slipping through his fingers as he starts a delicious suction that leaves me reeling.
“Are you giving me a hickey?” I ask only to squirm when he sucks harder before releasing me.
“No,” he lies, sounding pleased with himself.
I scowl when he pulls back, but it’s only halfhearted as I surge up to kiss him properly. He lets me this time, his mouth slanting over mine with a low groan that instantly becomes my favorite sound in the world, and when he pushes his hips into me, I gasp so loud I’m amazed I don’t wake his whole family.
The thought of them has me breaking away, clambering off the couch on wobbly legs. Andrew blinks up at me, slightly dazed, and for a moment he looks disappointed, maybe even a little nervous, as if he thinks we’ve gone too far. But then I hold out my hand in a silent question, remembering what he said. That we’ll take things as they come. That we’ll do what feels right. And this, this right here, feels right. And when he puts his hand in mine and follows me out of the room, I know it with my whole soul.
* * *
I hold in a giggle as we attempt to make it up the stairs as silently as we can. It’s a little after one a.m. and there are no lights on under any of the doors we pass. The house is fast asleep, but I’ve never been more awake.
I turn to Andrew as soon as we’re in our room, but he moves away, striding to the radiator by the window with single-minded focus.
“Thank Christ,” he says, pressing a hand to it. “Dad said he’d fix it this after—”
“Andrew.”
“Right. Sorry.”
He hops back over the bed, the movement a lot more graceful than it has any right to be as he comes to stand in front of me.
“Sorry,” he whispers again. “You sure about this?”
“Yeah. You?”
“I’m sure. I am very, very sure.” He steps closer, vanquishing the space between us. “Feels strange though,” he muses. “To give in after all this time. I feel like I’ve been hiding it from both of us for so long. And now I’m just… not.”
“Hiding what?” I ask, thoughts scattering as his fingers circle my wrists, clasping them gently.
“How much I’ve thought about this moment.” I swallow as his mouth drops to my ear, his words barely more than a whisper. “Do you want me to tell you?” he asks. “How much I want you right now?”
I shrug a little, or at least I think I do, my body no longer seems to understand what my brain is telling it.
“What do you want, Moll?” Andrew asks when I just stand there.
“I want…”
“Yes?”
Everything. The word gets stuck in my throat, choked down by the realization. I want everything with him. I want it so much I can barely stand it.
“A kiss,” I say instead, trying to focus as his grip tightens ever so slightly.
He immediately acquiesces, capturing my lips with perfect aim, but it’s not enough. It’s nowherenearenough.
The kiss is soft. The kiss is sweet. The kiss… is a freaking tease.
I writhe against him, needing more, and when I pull away he loosens his hold on my hands so I can raise them to his chest, clutching him by his sweater.
