Page 84 of Holiday Love
“Exactly.” I crack a grin. “Romantic, right?”
She doesn’t smile.
Shit.
That usually works.
“I just…” I rub the back of my neck, a little lost, not sure what to say. “I like you, okay? Tonight has been amazing, like thebest. Times Square, the Brooklyn Bridge, the way you looked at me like I wasn’t a complete idiot in that bar. I don’t want it to end with me introducing you to my mom in her reindeer pajamas. It’s kind of a mood killer.”
That earns a faint laugh. She steps toward me. Close enough I can smell her perfume, something soft and floral. Her fingers find the lapels of my coat, curling around the fabric.
“This is probably a bad idea,” she says, her voice low as her eyes drift half-lidded.
“Absolutely,” I murmur. “Worst idea ever.”
We kiss anyway.
It’s different this time, slower, deeper. Her hands find my neck, mine her waist. The stairwell fades, the concrete, the cold, the awkward beginning. All of it dissolves under the weight of this sudden, overwhelming need toknow her.Not just her body. Her heartbeat. Her laugh. The way she breathes my name.
When we finally pull apart, we’re both out of breath. Her forehead rests against mine.
“I don’t usually do this,” she whispers. “Casual. One-night things. It’s not really me.”
A rush of guilt. I can’t say the same. I’ve had one-night stands before. Lots of them. “Let’s not call it anything,” I say, the line rehearsed, spoken before, but I don’t like using it on Helen. Something about it feels different when I say it to her. More bitter in my mouth.
Her eyes search mine. “What about tomorrow?”
My stomach twists. I should say something reassuring. I should promise what I can’t guarantee, but I refuse to be that man. Not with her.
Instead, I brush a thumb over her cheek and say the only thing I know for sure. “Tonight, I’m all yours.”
She stares over my shoulder, her gaze distant like she’s thinking about that, and I worry that she might walk away. After a long minute I get a brief nod, like she’s made her decision.
Another glance through the window and I tell her, “The coast is clear. Let’s go before Mom comes back for snacks.”
Helen laughs under her breath and lets me lead her.
We creep out of the stairwell like fugitives and tiptoe the last few feet to my room. The second the door shuts behind us, something shifts. Like we both realize, together, there’s no one else here to stop us. There’s only this quiet room. Warmth from the heater over our heads. Dim lamplight and a wild thing sparking between us.
Helen turns in a slow circle, taking in the luxury suite Caleb booked for me. Everyone in my family got one. Full kitchen, two bedrooms, living room complete with a grand piano and Central Park views. Turns out having a billionaire celebrity brother-in-law has its perks. “Wow,” she breathes out. “This iswaybetter than the stairwell.”
“I aim to impress,” I say, locking the door. “Would you prefer turn-down service or—”
She’s in my arms before I finish, kissing me like she wants to erase the space between us. My hands find her shoulders, then her lower back, then her hips, memorizing every curve. She pushes off my jacket and runs her hands up my chest, fingertips burning through the fabric.
“You sure?” I ask, even though I already know.
Helen looks up at me, lips swollen, pupils wide. “Stop talking.”
I grin. “As you wish.”
We stumble toward the bed, mouths crashing, laughter slipping between kisses. It’s frantic, chaotic. Shoes get kicked off in different directions, her dress bunches halfway up her thighs, my shirt gets stuck over my head. Somehow, all the imperfect parts make it better. More real.
We collapse onto the bed in a tangle of limbs and laughter, her hair spilling out like silk. I kiss her again, slower this time, savoring the taste of wine on her tongue, the way she sighs into my mouth like she’s been waiting all night for this. Maybe longer.
My hand trails down her side, and she arches into me, her skin warm and soft beneath my touch. Every breath, every shift, makes my body hum. It’s like we’re learning each other with fingertips and mouths instead of words.
Helen’s eyes flutter open, and, for a beat, neither of us moves. She brushes her thumb across my cheek, and it’s the gentlest thing I’ve ever felt. “You’re not like I thought you’d be.”
