Page 33 of Holiday Tides

“Can we talk for a second?”

Her lips firm into a line as I pull her aside, behind the empty hostess stand.

“I— I don’t know what I did to upset you tonight, but whatever it was, I wasn’t trying to make you mad. I don’t want to be your villain anymore, Summer.”

“Oh, yeah?” she asks with so much sass that even a preteen would be impressed. “What do you want?”

“What I’ve always wanted.” The words leave my mouth before I can censor them.

“And that is?”

Her lifted brows should be irritating, her snarky tone should grate on my nerves, but I can already feel my pulse thick in my neck, my chest rising and falling too quickly. It’s not because I’m annoyed.

Far from it.

I want to gently brush away the stray eyelash that’s fallen onto her cheek. I want to cup my palm around the back of herneck. I want to slide my arm around her waist until there isn’t a millimeter of space between our bodies. Most of all, I want to bring her lips to mine.

“Decent show, you two,” Carol interrupts our stare-down on her way out, wrapped in what looks like four coats. “Much better than what you could’ve done with that ex-boyfriend of yours, Summer. A tip from me: stay single as long as you can. Men only drain the years from you.”

A gust of wind ruffles my hair as my focus snaps back to Summer. “You broke up with your boyfriend?”

She huffs. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Summer, I—” My eyes close with a nasally exhale. “I would very much like to make that my business.”

“What are you talking about?”

I almost rake my hands through my hair with frustration, but then I spot the mistletoe a few feet away. There are two very distinct outcomes to the idea hitting my brain like a sledgehammer—one with an irreparable consequence. The old me would have spent way too long weighing each option, trying to pick the best route. But my life for the last decade has been run by trial and error, by instinct. The gruff words leave my mouth a second before my hands grip Summer’s upper arms.

“Screw it.”

twenty

Summer

Istumble back a few steps. Before I can berate Nick for manhandling me, one of his hands slides behind my neck, his thumb heavy on my jaw, as the other fists the back of my dress at the base of my spine. Then his lips are on mine, hot and insistent and more delicious than I could have expected.

My body presses forward as a needy sound escapes my throat. That’s all the permission Nick needs to deepen the kiss. Tiny beams of light splinter behind my closed eyelids. The room spins even though I’m pretty sure my feet are still on the floor. I don’t remember the last time someone kissed me like this—wholly, thoroughly, soul-satiatingly. Have I ever been kissed like this?

The thought breaks off as Nick sets hungry kisses along my jaw, beside my ear, down my neck. My eyes catch the mistletoe above us before they blink closed again, drunk though I only had a single glass of bubbly hours ago.

“Nick.”

He stalls, pressing his forehead into my shoulder as if to gather strength. An openmouthed exhale leaves him as he raises his face to meet my puzzled gaze.

“That’s always how I’ve wanted you to say my name.”

A startled inhale slips into my parted lips, drawing his attention. This time, Nick is focused, controlled. His thumb skirts over my mouth before he leans in torturously slow. A delicate kiss brushes my lips before he pulls back a fraction. Our erratic breaths mingle for several heartbeats. When I tip forward, needing to demolish the space between us, a possessive grip on my hip backs me into the closed door of Bayside Table’s private meeting room. Our eyes remained locked, his green irises almost nonexistent until I reach for the handle.

Then it’s a flurry of motion again. Nick slamming the door shut, lifting me atop the eight-person dining table. My hands making an absolute mess of his hair, savoring the scratch of his beard scruff over my palm.

“Why do you smell so good?” I ask while setting a kiss against his neck.

“I— I don’t—” A wicked smile lifts my lips at his incoherence before I nip at his earlobe.

A curse leaves his mouth on a broken sigh before his lips are exploring mine again. Undoubtedly, I’ve never been kissed in the desperate, all-consuming way Nick seems incapable of tempering.

All of a sudden, Nick grips my shoulders, separating us. “Wait.” He sucks in a ragged breath. “We should—”

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