Page 22 of One Christmas Eve
“I can go get it,” he said, turning so abruptly she stopped so he wouldn’t run into her.
“Let’s save it for another night,” she said, knowing there was only a fifty-fifty chance he’d remember this tomorrow.
“Good lord, I want you, Zoe.” Okay, maybe seventy-thirty. “I need to know what’s so disgusting any sane man wouldn’t want to do it to you.”
Heat flamed across her face and chest before spreading throughout her entire body. She’d almost managed to forget he heard her say that when they were at the Dock. Almost. Her lips curved into a smile as she tilted her head. “Youneedto know?”
“Yes.Need.Trying to imagine what it could be is cutting into my working time. And my sleeping time. Pretty muchallof my awake time. My productivity is suffering, Zoe.”
Did those imaginings also include him in the role of costar? “What kind of things have you been imagining?”
He didn’t answer, but her skin prickled in reaction to the way his mouth curved into a naughty grin and his gaze bored into hers.
She wanted that. She didn’t even know what he was picturing doing to her, but if it made him look at her like that, she wanted it.
“Actually, tell me what he wouldn’t do later,” he said in a husky voice. “Because I want to kiss you right now and you can’t talk while I’m kissing you.”
“If you kiss me, I’m not going to want you to stop.”
“Then I won’t stop.”
“But here’s the thing. You’re very drunk.”
“I’m notthatdrunk. Trust me.”
“I’m not talking about whiskey dick,” she said, and then she had to pause while he laughed at the phrase. “I want you to want me when you’re sober.”
“I want you all the time.”
“Yeah, but when you’re sober, something holds you back and maybe whatever that is doesn’t matter right this minute, but it might tomorrow and I don’t want you to wake up with regrets. Remember that whole pen and ink sketch versus abstract color blobs discussion?”
“That was stupid. I say stupid things all the time and you should definitely ignore me.”
She laughed, and he leaned closer. “Just one kiss, Zoe. I really need to kiss you.”
She really needed to kiss him, too. “One kiss and then you go to bed. Alone.”
He struggled to make an almost straight face and raised his hand as if to swear an oath. “I promise.”
“That’s your left hand.”
The way the corners of his mouth twitched made her suspect it had been deliberate, but he switched hands. “One kiss and then bed.”
He moved closer, but she laughed and stopped his forward motion with her palm against his chest. “Oh no you don’t, lawyer guy. No loopholes. Say it right.”
Holding up his hand again, he cleared his throat. “I, Preston Phillip Wheeler, do solemnly swear that I will give you one kiss—and only one kiss—and then I will go to bed by myself and sleep alone.”
One kiss couldn’t hurt, she told herself. Just one kiss. Even if he had regrets when he sobered up, a single kiss was pretty easy to put behind you. “Okay. One kiss.”
Before she could move closer, or maybe stand up on her tiptoes so he could kiss her and go, he had one hand on her hip and one behind her neck. But he didn’t haul her in. Instead he backed her up against the wall and, excruciatingly slowly, lowered his mouth to hers.
She expected him to grind his lips against hers for a few seconds and then stagger off to bed, but his tongue traced her bottom lip before dipping into her mouth. She relaxed against his body as he kissed her, his mouth never totally losing contact with hers.
When his hand slid up her neck until his fingers were buried in her hair, she moaned and rocked her hips against his. She wasn’t sure, since he was kissing her very thoroughly, but it felt as if he smiled.
His hand slid up her side and then cupped her breast, making her jump when his thumb brushed over her taut nipple. She didn’t think this was in the rules, but he was such a very good kisser and the way his fingers tightened in her hair felt so good she wasn’t sure she had the strength to break off the kiss.
One kiss.
