Page 79 of Holiday Hostilities

His words make my entire core feel like it’s unspooling, unraveling, and all I can do is croak his name—a shaky, desperate “Aaron”—before I grab his face again. Like I solely exist right now to have his lips on mine.

He laughs softly, the sound deep and throaty. “The answer is too many times to count.”

And then he kisses me again.

And again.

And again.

Until there’s no here and now, or me or him. But just us, in this moment, soaked clothes sliding over our skin, and our mouths exploring and learning each other as we trace the lines of each other’s bodies.

30

AARON

The morning after the gala, I don’t go to the arena.

Instead, I lie in bed, eyes closed, replaying every moment of last night on repeat.

Because I kissed Olivia Griswold, and instead of punching me in the face, shekissed me back.With an intensity that told me she was as into it as I was.

I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of that sassy, pouty, perfect mouth of hers. I can still taste her. Still feel how soft her skin was under my hands. And I think I’ll forever be undone by the sounds she made while I kissed her neck and explored, learning what she liked, what made her back arch, what made her whimper, what made her say my name like that.

My name has never, ever sounded so good.

When I asked Olivia to come to the gala with me to outbid Brandi, I would have never in my wildest dreams imagined that the night could end likethat.

“Focus, Aaron,” I mutter to myself, shaking off my lust-drenched thoughts and finally slipping out of bed.

I pad downstairs and pick up bottles and take-out pizza boxes, cleaning up until all remnants of last night’s party have been squared away.

Well, almost all remnants…

I still can’t stop thinking about her. Can’t wait to see her when she wakes up.

I want to do something nice for her.

Which brings me to my next task: make Olivia a breakfast burrito. She’s viewing some apartments this morning before she does a round-trip flight to Miami.

My culinary experience is pretty much nil, with the exception of my soup extravaganza last week, but I’m feeling confident enough. I have no idea how Olivia is feeling after last night, but I do know that she can’t feel worse in the face of her favorite breakfast.

I can’t believe that, for years, she thought thatIthought she wasn’t good enough for me. The very notion is absurd. Although it explains so much, and I’m glad to have set the record straight. I wish I could have done so a long time ago. Saved us years of unresolved tension.

But the past is in the past. All I can do now is move forward with whatever this is, or could be, between Olivia and me.

Telling Lieberman we were together last night feltgood.And while I was relieved to see that the GM wasn’t too displeased with me, I was more focused on how Olivia blushed when I declared that I only want to date her from now on.

Which is actually very true.

Because whatever this is between us, I’m here for it.

As I crack eggs into a bowl, my phone buzzes with a FaceTime call from my mom.

“Morning,” I answer, propping my phone up on the counter.

“Good morning.” Mom blinks. “Why are you at home?”

“Well, I do live here.” I start to add some twists of black pepper to my bowl of eggs.

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