Page 27 of Tied Up In Tinsel
“So,” he said at last, his mouth curling, though his tone was rougher than before, “since you don’t like Christmas… you don’t care for Christmas movies either?”
I noticed the flick of his eyes to the TV, then back to me. The deliberate shift, like he’d pulled the emergency brake on a runaway train.
I exhaled, tossing my hair over my shoulder, buying myself a second to breathe. “Not particularly. I hate movies.”
“Huh.” He nodded, almost thoughtful. “Well, I’ve seen this one a hundred times. I know exactly what happens.”
The way his thumb traced a slow circle on the inside of my knee told me he wasn’t planning to continue to watch the movie at all.
Brooks
The warmth of her skin beneath my touch jolted through me like a live wire, sharp and instant, shooting straight down to my cock. Annie set her mug aside, her focus shifting entirely to me, and that look in her eyes—the sultry weight of it, the curve of her smirk—was the only confirmation I needed.
The movie on the TV may as well have been static. My attention was hers. All hers.
Her leg pressed into my hand, urging me closer, silently daring me to keep going. My restraint, what little I’d managed to cling to these past two nights, snapped like brittle ice under her gaze. God, she was testing me, taunting me, and she had no idea the dangerous ground she was walking on. Or maybe she did. Maybe she wanted to see how far I’d go.
Joke’s on her. I’d go farther than either of us were ready for. I’d go until she forgot every man before me. I was already halfway there.
Messing around with Annie wasn’t supposed to be in the cards. Rules blurred in the quiet glow of her living room; the faint twinkle of holiday lights making her hair gleam auburn fire. We weren’t coworkers in an office. No HR department wouldbarge in to remind us this was inappropriate. Let’s face it, we’d both felt this pull before I knew about the damn nanny job.
The faint sound of a Christmas classic hummed in the background as I shifted and moved towards her, bracing myself on either side of her. She didn’t flinch, didn’t pull back, didn’t retreat. She let me move in, let me hover above her, my arms caging her against the couch’s armrest.
Christ, she was stunning like this. Auburn strands haloed around her, skin flushed warm, lips parted in expectation. She looked like a secret I’d waited too long to uncover.
I brushed a lock of hair from her cheek, and she leaned into my touch like she’d been waiting for it. My chest tightened, my heart pounding as I lingered there, hesitant despite how badly I wanted to devour her. I needed a sign. One clear sign that this wasn’t just me pushing too far.
Then she gave it to me.
Her hand slipped between us, bold and certain, closing over the thick length straining against my jeans. The shock of it ripped through me, my hips jerking in response before I could stop myself. Hard. Ready. Fucking aching.
A low groan escaped me, rough and unguarded.
Annie’s lips curved as she squeezed, teasing, her thumb dragging along my ridge. “Mmm,” she hummed, eyes glittering with mischief.
I dropped my forehead closer, voice raw. “You have no idea how long I’ve been thinking about this.”
Her brows lifted, a playful tilt to her head as she studied me. “About what exactly?”
“About you. Underneath me. Touching me. Driving me insane.” My words came out ragged, pulled straight from the truth I hadn’t dared say until now.
Her breath caught, then a laugh tumbled from her lips—breathy, wild, like she didn’t know whether to resist me or eggme on. Her lashes fluttered as she squeezed me again, and I swore I saw her picturing it too.
“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little curious,” she admitted, voice low.
“Curious?” I ground out, biting back another groan as she stroked me.
“You. Me.” Her eyes flicked down to her hand, then back up. “What this would be like. I’d also be lying if I said I wasn’t… insanely attracted to you.”
Relief and hunger slammed into me at once.Thank God. Because the truth was, I was already gone for her. Something about her—the fire in her hair, the stubborn tilt of her chin, that fierce independence—had me hooked the first night I met her. She wasn’t fragile. She wasn’t waiting to be swept off her feet. She stood her ground, and she’d make me want to work for every inch she gave me.
That was what pulled me in.
Fuck, it was why I couldn’t back away now.
Still hovering, I tilted my face toward hers, letting my breath brush above her skin. A test. A warning. A promise. She tipped her head, baring her throat for me, and the trust in that small movement nearly undid me.
I lowered my mouth, letting my breath skim across the delicate line of her neck. She shivered, the hand she placed in my hair pulling me closer. I kissed her there, soft, lingering, savoring the taste of her skin.
