Page 64 of Perfectly Complicated
I will never make that mistake again.
“Dance with me,” he says softly.
I blink, caught off guard. “What?”
“Just like your parents. This reminds me of the night at Boots and Buckles…”
“When you asked me to dance under the lights,” I finish for him.
“We’ll make our own Christmas memories. Only one problem, though.” He holds up his wrists, which are wrapped in Christmas lights. “First, you have to unwrap me.”
I take the end of the lights and slowly unwrap him, letting each loop fall away, my fingerstrailing along the strands as they slip from his body. The lights pool at our feet like fallen stars, but I can’t look away from his face or the heat building in his dark eyes.
We are darkness and light. Shooting stars in the night sky.
When the last loop falls away, he reaches for my hand and gently takes me in his arms, the same way he did that first night we danced together in that honky-tonk restaurant. His other hand splays across my lower back as we begin to sway slowly in the glow of the lights. That’s when I notice how perfectly our bodies fit together, like I was designed to be held by him, my body glowing under his touch.
“Do you hate Christmas a little less now?” I ask, tilting my head to study him.
“Less?” He lets out a soft laugh. “Probably not. I still think it’s excessive and way too commercialized.”
“Oh.Right.”My smile falls slightly.
“But,” he continues, his palms settling on my waist, “I like this, being here with you. Watching you smile over Christmas lights and decorated houseplants.” He pauses. “That part doesn’t suck.”
“So you’re saying I don’t suck?”
“I’m saying Christmas still isn’t my thing, Bennett.” His gaze drops to my mouth. “But you are.”
Heat floods through me. “I’m not Christmas.”
“No,” he agrees, pulling me closer. “You’re better. The only good part about any of this. If you weren’t here…” He shakes his head. “I’d still hate every second.”
“That’s…” I search for the right words. “The most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me while insulting Christmas.”
“I’m a complicated guy. You can’t expect me to start loving Christmas overnight.” He traces the curve of my jaw. “But you and me?ThatI can get behind.”
My fingers trace the line of his shoulders, wanting him to understand that this isn’t about our bet anymore. This is aboutus.About what’s been building between us since the moment we met.
He stops swaying and reaches to cup my face with his other hand, his thumb brushing across my cheekbone. I can see the longing in his eyes, but also how he’s holding back for me. The careful way he touches me.
“Janie…” he whispers. “I won’t kiss you unless you want me to. I don’t want you running away from me like you did from Peterson.”
I shake my head, placing my palm over his. “I could never feel the same way about you as I do about David.”
He searches my face. “Then do you want me to kiss you?”
I nod slowly, my heart hammering in my chest. The fact that he asked, that he cares what I want after everything I’ve been through, means more than he could know. “This time, I promise I won’t run.”
I don’t have to say more. His mouth crashes against mine and—wow. Okay. So this is what I’ve been missing.
This isn’t the slow-burn kiss from under the mistletoe, which held the record for best kiss until, oh,right now.
This is fire and heat, raw and desperate, the kind of kiss that makes you forget pretty much everything else.
He cups the back of my neck, and I respond by threading my fingers into his hair. When he trails kisses along my cheekbone, I let out a tiny sigh, and the sound seems to undo him completely. He wraps his arms around my waist and lifts me slightly, backing me against the wall, his body caging me in as his mouth finds mine.
“Janie,” he murmurs against my lips, kissing me between words. “You know what this means?”
