Page 64 of My Favorite Holidate

“Wilder?”

“Yes?”

I shake my head. “It’s nothing.” I’m not certain what I was going to say, even though I’m sure my tone was breathy, feathery even.

He grabs my hand again, linking his fingers through mine. I gasp from the touch, the desperation in it. “Are you sure it’s nothing?”

“Yes,” I say, but I don’t sound convincing.

He doesn’t let it go. “Is this about the kiss yesterday?”

And the way I’m thinking of you now too.“Maybe. Okay. Yes,” I admit.

“What about it?” he asks, seeming impatient.

“Was it believable?”

“Yes,” he says, wasting no time. “It was believable to me.”

There goes my stomach once more, cartwheeling this time. “Me too.”

He’s quiet again for a beat, then says, “We’ll probably have to be affectionate again at the party on Thursday.”

I wish it were Thursday now.

This fluttering in my chest isn’t going away. This pull in my belly isn’t disappearing. And this ache between my thighs is only intensifying. Feeling bold, I throw caution out the window. “Should we…practice again?”

The answer flies out of his mouth. “Yes.”

In no time, he’s up and striding across the plush carpet to the door and flicking the lock closed. I stand, my pulse skyrocketing. Then, because I can’t stop thinking of his desk, I move toward it, and he’s right behind me. When I reach it, he crowds me, his arm stretching along my side to grab the phone on the smooth wooden surface.

Why is he grabbing his phone? “Do you have a call?—”

But the question dies when he hits play on Spotify. The sultry sounds of the Tinashe Christmas cover float past my ears as his actions register fully. He’s turned on a song to drown out the sounds of our kissing practice.

With my heart speeding wildly, I spin around, and Wilder’s looming over me. “Just in case,” he says, answering my unfinished question.

“In case…I’m loud?”

His jaw ticks. He presses his lips together. Squeezes his eyes shut like he’s at war with himself, then he opens them. “Yes. But I need to know for sure. Are you okay with this?” He gestures from him to me, then all around us.

Yes, I’m keenly aware of the situation. He owns the company I work for, and direct report or not, this fake romance could be messy. But he disclosed this romance from day one. HR knows, and if we were to break up, he’s the kind of normal human who wouldn’t fire me for a made-up sin. For all intents and purposes, we’re having a relationship. Besides, this job isn’t my end game. I’ve got a side hustle, one I want to make into my future.

Right now, though, I’m only thinking about the present.

I grab the collar of his burgundy shirt. “Shut up and practice kissing me.”

21

ONCE UPON A DESK

Fable

As the music pulses, he drops the snowman ornament onto the desk, then covers my mouth with his with zero hesitation. This isn’t a three-second practice run. This is not a mistletoe moment. This is a stolen office kiss. I clutch the fabric of his expensive shirt, clinging for dear life as his lips crush mine. I back up against the edge of the wood, my ass barely above the lights I strung last week.

It’s a hard, deep kiss from my billionaire boss. I grip his shirt harder, tugging him closer. My blood rushes to the beat of the sultry song.

It’s a full-body kiss, and I can’t get close enough to him. I yank him nearer, and he grunts—a carnal noise against my mouth. A low, dirty groan. His right hand grasps one hip, then his left hand comes down on the other. He’s bending over me, my back bowing on his desk.

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