Page 14 of Mistle-Ho

Now it’s my home. A space I’ve spent countless hours making into mine.

And he’s looking over every inch of the one-bedroom corner unit I snapped up the second it was available, his amber eyestaking in each nook and cranny like it’s the most interesting place he’s ever seen.

“So?” I try redirecting him, because I’m starting to accidentally notice a lot of nooks and crannies myself. Like the ones sculpted into his arms. The shadowed divot cutting down the center of his T-shirt, hinting at the definition of his pecs. The thick bands of thigh muscle fighting the denim of his jeans.

He pulls a familiar box from behind his back, redirecting my attention. “You forgot your scarf the other night.” Gavin takes a deep breath, the broad line of his shoulders lifting with the action. “And I want to apologize.” His gaze darkens and his voice lowers. “For what happened at the party.”

Oh.

I didn’t know how smug I felt over our little rendezvous until he ripped the rug out from under me. Thinking maybe he’d been unable to control himself around me boosted my ego and vindicated the inner dejected teenager still holding onto the past with both hands.

Lifting my chin, I try to look unbothered. “It’s fine. I figured you regretted it, so—”

“I didn’t say I regretted it.” Gavin steps closer. His voice is lower, rougher, when he says, “The only thing I regret is that you left before I could return the favor.”

I stare at him for a few seconds, trying to process exactly what’s going on here. “So, you didn’t come to apologize and tell me it was a mistake?”

“Itwasa mistake, Al.” His eyes drop to my lips. “I just don’t regret it.” Gavin continues coming my way, each step slow and methodical as his bulky body towers over me. “I came here to figure out a way to make things right between us.”

I almost always wear heels. People love to make stupid comments when you’re short, and adding on a few inches usually keeps that shit to a minimum. It also keeps me fromfeeling like I’m staring at everybody’s belly button. Which is exactly how I feel right now. While it’s annoying, it also has me wondering what Gavin’s belly button looks like. I should have taken a closer look when he whipped his shirt off the other night, instead of nearly breaking my neck running away.

Tipping my head back, I force my thoughts back in line. “Does that mean you think things are wrong between us?”

He gives me a slow nod. “It does.”

I wait for a few seconds, expecting him to elaborate. Gavin is normally very talkative. He’s the kind of guy who charms his way through every interaction with smooth words and a smile. I could use a few more of those words in this moment, because his closeness and the intensity of his gaze is making me want to think all sorts of things that I’m sure aren’t actually true. The same things I’ve been working hard not to wonder about since racing from the treehouse in his T-shirt. I’ve read too much into his actions before and felt like a freaking idiot. I’m not doing that again.

“Okay.” I swallow hard as he moves in a little more, continuing to close the tiny space that remains between us. “How do you plan to make things right?”

His body is almost brushing mine now, and every cell in my front is on edge. Bracing for contact.

“I want a do-over.” Gavin leans down, bringing his face closer to mine so our eyes align. “I’m better than what happened at the party, and I want you to know it.”

Is he offering to... Does he mean…

No. Definitely not. I’m just still that stupid girl who…

“I want to touch you again, Al.” Gavin leans closer, but this time I step back, overwhelmed at what he’s put on the table. The way it’s left no room for misunderstanding.

A second ago, his body touching mine was something thatmighthappen. Would have been nothing more than the result of an accidental shift or single step too far.

What he’s offering nowguaranteesphysical contact, and all those cells have gone from being on edge to fully engulfed in flames.

But that doesn’t seem to be enough for him. Like he doesn’t care I’m about to pass out, Gavin keeps going, laying out a plan of action I assumed would only happen in my dreams.

“I want to taste you.” Another step for him, and another step for me. “I want to feel you come on my tongue and around my fingers.”

This time when he steps forward, I run out of space. The backs of my legs hit the sofa, and I’m so distracted, I drop right down to my butt, bouncing against the cushions.

And Gavin just keeps coming. Leaning down, hands bracing against the back of the sofa on one side and the arm of it on the other, blocking me in. “What do you think, Al? Wanna give me a do-over?”

Do I? Hell yes, I do.

Is it a good idea? Probably not.

However…

“I’m going to be pissed if you make a mess on my couch the way you did on my dress.” It’s sort of a lie, because imagining Gavin being so hot for me he loses control again practically has me panting like a dog. “I’ll make you clean it up yourself.”

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