Page 8 of Once Upon A Christmas Kiss
I raise my hand, in a stopping gesture, staring at him.
“Baby, it’s about time your happy ass gets here. Where have you been,” I say, resting my hands on my waist, tilting my head.
I know that he’s busy, but sometimes, he disappears, and I need to know what the fuck he’s doing.
Right.
I look at his fucking beautiful glowing eyes; our eyes dance back and forth as we gaze at each other.
I feel and see his love, his soul.
Yeah, the man is mine.
“Baby, I’ve been busy working, finishing my assignments, and training.
“Yeah, yeah, that’s right. I forgot, but what the fuck happened to you,” I ask, looking at the fucking bruise below his eye and the split lip.
“Nothing, it was some assholes that were being stupid,” Nicola says, his lips turning up, lowering his eyelids to hide something from me.
I know him, and he’s not telling everything. But, hell, I’m going to have to make him tell me what in the hell happened.
“Right, you know that you’re going to have to tell me what happened,” I say, resting my hands on my waist.
“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go get some food because I’m starving,” Nicola says, taking a step closer to me.
“Okay,” I say, sliding my hands up his arms, wrapping my arms around his shoulders.
“Fuck yes,” Nicola says, leaning in, kissing me with all he has.
Nicola kisses make me melt, a delicious chill race up my spine as he tangles his tongue with my mind.
This man drives me crazy, makes me forget everything.
Nicola pulls back, cups my cheek; his lips turn up as he gazes into my eyes.
“Baby, I’m starving; let’s get some dinner.”
“Yes, I’m ready,” I say, nodding.
Nicola takes my hand, lacing our fingers; we walk out of the house to his truck. We have a nice dinner, he tells me everything that happened, but I still feel like he’s leaving something out.
We walk out of the Italian restaurant to his truck. Nicola helps me into the truck since it’s high and I’m wearing heels. He gets into the driver seat, turns on the truck; the mufflers roar in the night as he pulls out of the parking lot and onto the street.
I turn on the stereo, looking out the window, thinking about what he said at dinner, but my gut feels that there is more than what he’s telling me.
I look at him; he glances at me, lowers one eyelid, reaches for my hand.
I inhale deeply, slowly exhaling, looking out the window, chewing my lower lip.
Nicola drives to his home, pulling into his parking space. His Mamma is usually at the church bible study, and I know that he wants some.
Nic gets out of the truck, walks around to open my door, and helps me out, pulling me into his arms. We walk into his apartment, stopping in the living room. He looks at me, moving his hand, cupping my face gazing into my eyes.
“Baby, what’s on your mind.”
“Nic, is there something that you’re not telling me?”
“Baby, that’s it, I’m going to be training,” Nicola says, taking my hand, kissing my wrist, closing his eyes.
