Page 9 of Unwrapped

I knew it would replay in my mind constantly until I saw him on Saturday.

7

December 23rd

8:15 p.m.

The George was packed, unsurprisingly. It was a Saturday night, right before Christmas, snow had fallen yesterday and today, and there was a festive mood in the air. All the tables in the cobbled front courtyard were taken, patio heaters blasting out hot air in an attempt to keep the drinkers warm in the winter chill. I moved past them, entering the pub itself, and immediately felt warmer with the crackling fires and press of bodies filling every available space. Pushing my way through, I spotted a miracle—a tiny, empty table with two chairs tucked away in a corner, and I made a beeline for it. Draping my coat over the free chair, I scanned the QR code to bring up the pub menu so I could order drinks for Sam and me without risking losing our table.

When I’d placed the order, I settled into my chair, scanning the pub for any sign of Sam’s dark hair. I straightened out my hands, realising that I’d been clenching my fists, and I pinched my brow. I needed to get a fucking grip. This was Sam. We’d been friends once andwouldbe friends again. And so what if I couldn’t stop thinking about?—

“Hi.” Sam suddenly appeared in front of me, and I totally lost my train of thought. There was a huge smile on his face, his cheeks were flushed from the cold, and his eyes were sparkling, and fuck, I needed to kiss him more than I’d ever needed to kiss anyone in my life.

“Hi,” I said hoarsely, watching, mesmerised as he unwound his chunky grey scarf and threw it over the back of his chair with his coat on top of my jacket. “I got you a drink.”

“Thanks.” He gave me another smile, a little more bashful, taking a seat at the table. Our knees touched in the cramped space, and I sucked in a breath. Fucking hell, I wasn’t going to last the night at this rate.

“Wanna get some air?”

His brows raised at my sudden question. “Now? I just got here.”

“Yeah. Now. Cramped.”

He studied me for a moment and then shrugged. “If you don’t mind losing the table.”

“I don’t care about the fucking table,” I said gruffly. “I want to talk to you somewhere less crowded.”

“Okay.” Rising from his seat, he grabbed his coat, shrugging it on, and then draped his scarf around his neck. He picked up his pint and cocked his head at me. “After you.”

Right. Yanking on my coat, I grabbed my drink and began pushing my way back through the crowds, trusting that he was following me.

When we reached the beer garden at the back of the pub, I halted. It was much quieter here, away from the warmth of the patio heaters that filled the front space. There was a light dusting of snow sprinkled over a few of the tables and the tops of the stone walls around us, undisturbed in places. Sam placed his drink down on an empty table that had been cleared of snow and then moved to lean against the bench. It took me a second, but then I realised that it was the same bench he’d been against the last time we were here. I had to close my eyes for a second, overwhelmed by a sense of déjà vu.

When I opened my eyes again, he was watching me, his gaze dark, and I was ninety percent sure that I wasn’t imagining the way he was looking at me.

I knew it was up to me. I had to be the one to let him know.

Taking a deep breath, I moved forwards, carefully placing my pint next to his before stepping into his space.

We were close enough that the denim of my jeans brushed against his. Planting my hands on the table on either side of him, I leaned in. “Sam. I need…I have to ask you something.” Picking up my pint and taking a swig to soothe my suddenly dry throat, I forced myself to hold his gaze. As I placed the glass back down, I gathered my courage. Fuck, I had to know either way, and I was over dancing around this. Not talking about things had been what had fucked things up between us before, so I needed proper answers. No more misunderstandings. “Do you…do you just want to be friends again? Nothing more?”

“Wait, what?” Confusion entered his gaze.

“I said, do youjustwant to be friends?” Drawing back slightly, I watched as his already dark eyes darkened even further. He tugged his lip between his teeth as he shook his head slowly.

“I, uh… I don’t want to mess anything up again. I’d rather have you as a fr?—”

I cut off his words with my lips.

He was unresponsive for a second, but before I had time to wonder if I’d totally misjudged everything, he was kissing me back, and all I could think wasyes.

His lips were so fucking soft against mine, the perfect contrast to the abrasiveness of his jaw. Our mistletoe kiss had reinforced my belief that we owed it to each other to explore this insane attraction that I could feel between us, but it had been over far too quickly. This, though.Thiswas everything I’d been missing.

A low noise rumbled in the back of his throat as his hands went to the back of my jeans, pulling me into him before he froze.

“Stop!” He tore his mouth away, breathing hard as he stared at me with wild eyes. “Wait. I don’t understand what’s happening.”

“What should have happened the first time you kissed me.” With an effort, I stepped back, adjusting my dick in my jeans. Sam’s eyes flicked from mine down to my hand, and he hissed through his teeth.

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