Page 55 of Screwged for Christmas

I finally pull away. “Sorry, Mr. Sterling. Umm, maybe I should move to the front?” I want to cram down the suggestion as soon as it leaves my mouth in a breathless whisper.

His laugh is as warm as his arms and I relax into him despite knowing I should move. If anyone were to see me like this, the tabloids would ignite with New York City’s most eligible bachelor finding young arm candy. Thank God the windows are tinted so black it looks like night has fallen over the city beyond them.

“I'm afraid there's no space up there either,” he answers back his eyes tracing my face. “But I’m sure we can fit here. It's not a great distance to the apartment.”

We could be stuck in his car forever and I wouldn't care.

A strong hand settles on my bare thigh and that’s when I realize in all the commotion, my leg is settled over his, my skirt high enough to bare a good portion of skin between my knee-high boots and the edge of my skirt.

I move my hand to rest on his. Warmth hits my cheeks as I turn my eyes up. It’s the way he’s looking down at me that has me breathing heavier. I am not imagining the banked heat or the way my heart is racing either.

My gaze drops to his lips and I briefly wonder what his beard would feel like if he were to kiss me. I nearly groan so I pull my lower lip between my teeth to keep from letting it slip out. Talk about awkward.

I laugh a little to try and hide my nervousness. I go to pull my misbehaving leg to my own side of the car and then retract my hand from his chest. Okay, so I let my hand slip down over the bulge of his pecs a little while I’m there.

What? Stop judging.

You know what?

That's my inner good angel mentally smacking my inner bad girl. My hand is already there so I might as well enjoy all those muscles, right? We’re both lucky I have enough self-control and that I don’t slide myself over his lap and do what I really wanted and kiss the hell out of him.

The hand on my thigh tightens and his expression turns serious. His other stops me before I can pull away entirely and the pounding of my heart in my chest is almost too overwhelming. He slides his hand into mine, twining our fingers together.

“Mr. Sterling?” My voice is low and I can feel the steady rhythm of his heart beneath my palm. His finger curls around mine. What I really want to be asking is how fast can we get to his place, a hotel room...anywhere. I think he can read my mind because those dark eyes of his shift with a hunger I’m not imagining.

I’m not sure which of us moved first but the second his lips brush against mine the world falls away and I’m moaning into his mouth. The shock is instant. Alive. And running through me, head to toe.

Fuck, this is happening.

He digs his hands into the long, loose locks of my hair and I do the same to his sweater. I let out a little gasp into his mouth when he tightens his hold. A delicious friction I want more of. He pulls me into him and takes the kiss deeper. Stroking his hot tongue over mine like a starved man.

“Fuck, you even taste like heaven,” he growls against my lips before diving in for another taste. He takes full control and I find my hands pushing his sweater up, my fingers walking over the dips and planes of his abs as we memorize each other’s tastes.

A hand slips from my hair and wraps around the back of my neck where he strokes a thumb over my pulse point soothingly.

I don’t know who started it but he ends the kiss just as quickly, pressing his forehead against mine. “So soft and sweet.” I take a little comfort in knowing he’s as shocked and wrapped up in our kiss as I am.

“Ms. Kendall, Gracie, I have a proposal for you.” He sits up and the hand on my thigh tightens again, his thumb stroking a very distracting circle over my smooth skin to match the one on my neck. But as good as it feels even that can’t distract me from what my boss says next.

“Will you be my fiancée for Christmas? Starting now?”

CHAPTER 2

GRACIE

He said nothing about sleeping with him. But two hours later I'm standing in Logan's, bedroom overlooking Rockefeller as the lights twinkle below in a blanket made of a billion Christmas lights thinking about nothing else.

My eyes can't focus on the beauty. All I see is my blonde hair spilled over the black silk of his pillows and him commanding my body like he does a room full of people. Effortlessly and with great skill.

“Gwacie! You look beautiful in wed.”

Kaylee’s three-year-old enthusiasm is infectious and my worries fade away when she bounds into the room wearing a cute little snow-white dress her uncle bought when he picked out mine for the evening. He’d gone all out and picked an emerald cape and gloves to match for ‘a perfect Christmas angel’he’d said when the little girl had opened her present.

I pick Kaylee up and hold her close. In the past year we’ve seen a lot together and I’d grown close to her mother as well. A strong woman who weathered a cheating husband and now dealing with single parenthood with grace.

I tap Kaylee on the nose. “Me? Look at you! All the little elves are going to love taking pictures with you. Do you have your list ready?”

“Huh-huh and I’m going to sit on Santa’s lap and ask for something special.” The twinkle in her eyes makes up for all the crappy Christmases I had almost instantly and I marvel at how fast a little one can heal a wounded heart.

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