Page 17 of One Christmas Eve
As his mouth devoured hers, his hands skimmed over her back and pressed her even closer before he went back to the delicious curve of her hips. She tasted like sweet apple pie and he dipped his tongue between her lips, needing more.
Her hand cupped the back of his neck, and he kissed her until she was on her toes, her body arched against his. Her breasts against his chest. His knee sliding between her legs. But as he shifted one hand up her side toward the curve of her breast, the kiss ended.
He wasn’t sure which of them had remembered where they were and broken it off, but he knew he was damn sorry they weren’t alone right now. And judging by the way Zoe rested her forehead against his shoulder and sighed, he thought she agreed.
“I feel kind of weird kissing you in my grandparents’ kitchen,” she whispered.
“Probably not my smoothest move,” he agreed, and she chuckled against his shoulder.
Then she backed away and he felt the loss of her body against his so strongly, he had to exert all of his willpower not to pull her back to him. He wanted her in his arms and he wanted to kiss her again, until everything disappeared except the two of them.
She was a vibrant, exciting woman. And one day, when the fun of flirting and stolen kisses wore off, she was going to realize he wasnotexciting and move on to more thrilling pastures.
“What are you thinking right now?” Zoe asked, derailing his very depressing train of thoughts. “Your face changed and I get the impression you’re having some serious regrets about kissing me right now.”
“No,” he said sharply. “I like kissing you.”
“But...”
He really didn’t want to ruin this moment. It was a kiss. They could get past that. But if it went further, it was going to be a lot harder when the inevitable end came and he didn’t want that for either of them.
He’d felt that way once before. He’d fallen hard and fast, and he’d thought she had, too. And maybe she had, but when that initial rush that came with a new relationship had faded, the spark that was left hadn’t been enough for her. She’d moved on and he’d been left with a broken heart.
Imagining falling for Zoe—more than he already was—and then having that spark fizzle out for her would wreck him. And his office was next to her bookstore, so she wouldn’t simply be gone. He’d see her. He’d see her window displays and think of her.
“You and I are...not compatible,” he said in a low voice.
“Yes, I know. I’m entirely unsuitable.”
He sighed. “You are notentirelyunsuitable.”
“But a little unsuitable.”
“For me, yes.” Before she could say anything—or even think of a response—he frowned and held up his hand. “That’s not right. I’m the one who’s unsuitable. For you.”
She cocked her head, running his words through her head and trying to make sense of them.
“It’s like this,” he said, running his hand over his hair. “If we were art, I’d be a pen and ink drawing and you’d be that larger-than-life canvas with blobs of colorful paint flung all over it with joy and abandon.”
She laughed. “You’re precision and I’m a mess?”
“No!That’s not...no.”
He looked so distressed, she put her hand on his arm. “I was kidding. I know what you mean—I think—and it’s actually very flattering.”
“You’ve seen my office. You’ve seen my car. The color palette of my life is neutral, mostly gray. Boring, really. I’m boring, Zoe, and while we obviously have some sexual chemistry—and by some, I mean explosive—you’re a woman who deserves a lot more than boring.”
“What if I don’t think you’re boring?”
He managed a half smile and shrugged one shoulder. “Trust me. Eventually, you will.”
“You seem pretty convinced of that.”
“Zoe. I’m reasonably good looking. I’m well educated. I have a good job and make good money. Mothers love me. And yet, I’ve never even gotten close to marriage. Or engagement, even.” He shrugged casually, not showing the lingering pain of being left for men who were more exciting. “It’s because I’m just not that exciting and you aresoexciting and I don’t know if I can stand to hear ‘you’re just so boring, Preston’ from you before you walk out the door.”
It was more than he meant to say. He didn’t generally expose old wounds for other people to see, but she wasn’t just any person. He’d kissed her and then pulled back, and she deserved an explanation for that.
“I wasn’t looking for a ring,” she said quietly. “But, since this is clearly a bad idea, I’m going to get another slice of pie with a whole lot of whipped cream. Want one?”
