Page 31 of Wrapped Up

“Can I get you a drink?” he asks, his voice low and inviting.

I clear my throat, trying to regain my composure. “Actually, I brought you something.” I hold out the gift bag, my fingers trembling slightly as I pass it to him.

His eyes sparkle with curiosity as he takes it from me.

“Hmm, let me guess. A fruitcake? A reindeer sweater?” he teases.

Suddenly feeling exposed, I whisper, my cheeks flushing with heat. “It's my, um, my favorite drink.”

He pulls out the bottle of Jack Daniels, barking out a laugh that reverberates through the room. But then he pulls out the red silk tie, and the air between us charges with electricity. His eyes meet mine, dark and questioning. “And this?”

I take a deep breath, gathering every ounce of courage I possess and diving headfirst into the deep end, my heart pounding so loudly I'm sure he can hear it.

“Well,” I say, my voice huskier than I intended, “being tied up on Boxing day is on my Christmas wish list. I'm looking for someone to make those wishes come true.”

He sets the bottle down with care on the nearby table, then stalks towards me, the tie dangling from his fingers like a promise of things to come. He stops mere inches away, close enough that I can feel the heat emanating from his body and smell the faint scent of cologne.

“Truth or dare, Jennifer?”

I meet his gaze, unflinching. “Truth.”

“Do you trust me?”

The question hangs between us, loaded with meaning.

I take a shaky breath. “I do.”

His eyes soften, and he nods. “Good.”

“Last question,” he murmurs. “Are you going to run away from me again?”

A small smile tugs at my lips. I shake my head, holding his gaze. “I'm not a runner, Jack. Besides,” I lean in, dropping my voice to a playful whisper, “where else on Christmas can I find this level of... satisfaction?”

His pupils dilate, and a soft groan escapes his lips. “Nowhere, you've come to the right address.”

I smile. “Truth or dare, Jack?”

He smirks, not missing a beat. “Truth.”

“What's on top of your naughty Christmas list?”

His eyes darken, and he leans in, his voice a husky growl. “You. All of you. Naked, except for those fucking heels you’re wearing.”

Every nerve ending in my body tingles, and all my worries and all my fears dissolve into nothing, like mist in the morning sun. I step closer, pressing myself onto my toes before kissing him with a hunger I didn’t know I possessed. His lips are soft yet firm, a perfect contradiction, and I melt into him, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him closer. God, I’ve missed the intoxicating taste of him, the solid feel of his body against mine, the way his muscles tense and relax in response to my touch.

He groans, a primal sound that reverberates through me, and as he deepens the kiss, his tongue explores my mouth with an intensity that makes my body sing and my toes curl.

Suddenly, an idea sparks in my mind, wild and daring. I break the kiss, breathless and dizzy with desire, and grab the silken tie from his hands.

“Trust me?” I ask, my voice husky with want.

His eyes darken, and he smirks that devastatingly sexy smirk of his. “Always, Princess.”

That nickname again—it sends a thrill through me every time he says it. I love it more than I care to admit. With trembling fingers, I guide his hands behind his back and wrap the silk tie around his wrists, the smooth material sliding against his skin.

“I'm not a pro at this,” I murmur, my fingers fumbling with the material, a mix of nervousness and excitement coursing through me. “But I want you to feel what you made me feel that night. I want to drive you wild.”

When his hands are secured behind his back, I step back, admiring my handiwork. And I must say that I like the sight of him, powerful yet vulnerable, completely at my mercy.

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