Page 30 of Kiss Me

A part of me thinks it’s just a ploy for me to allow him to continue holding onto me. At the same time, though, I don’t really care if it is.

I should, but I don’t mind him holding me this close. And yes, I recognize how absurd that is given that less than five minutes ago, I was just about to tell him to shove it up his ass.

“Let’s go,” he suddenly says.

“What are you doing?” I gasp when he lifts me into his arms and starts carrying me in the opposite direction of my suite.

“Stop squirming unless you want me to drop you and this damn crutch.”

“Unless I … You wouldn’t have to worry about that if you’d put me down,” I counter.

He shakes his head, defiant. “What type of asshole would I look like allowing an obviously drunk woman with a sprained ankle to walk along this icy pathway, unassisted?”

“You’re deranged. Do you know that?”

Laughter is his response to my question. I have to make myself drag my eyes away from the way his Adam’s apple bobs up and down. A crazed urge to run my tongue along his neck strikes me.

That’s when I begin to wonder if one of the cups of hot chocolate I had during the gingerbread house competition was truly spiked. Because there’s no way I can actually be attracted to this man.

“I’ve been called worse,” he replies. “Within the last twenty-four hours, in fact.” The playful twist of his lips tells me he agrees with my assessment of his character, but doesn’t mind one bit.

“Where are we going?” I ask, having resigned myself to letting him carry me.

“My place.” His reply is so casual it almost escapes me.

“I can’t go to your place.”

“That’s obviously not true, as outlined by the fact that it’s exactly where we’re headed. You and me.”

“Are you always this insufferable?” I squirm in his arms, even though my arms are still locked around his neck. While it’s true, a part of me is loath to admit just how damn comfortable I feel in his arms.

“No.” He shakes his head. “Sometimes, I’m worse.”

I snort. “I can believe that.”

Those pink lips of his crack another smile.

“Honey, we’re home,” he says about five minutes later in front of the door of his private cabin for the next few days.

CHAPTER 8

Tania

Home.

My heart squeezes at the mention of the word.

Taehyun places me on my feet in front of the wooden door of his wood cabin.

He carried me for nearly ten minutes, along a somewhat icy road. This resort is massive and has multiple cabins in addition to the main accommodations with its hotel-style suites.

He punches in the code, unlocking the door before wrapping an arm around my waist as if he’s afraid I’ll get away. I allow him to pull me inside of his luxurious cabin.

“Shoes,” he orders, pointing at the boots on my feet. “No shoes inside.”

I glance around as I untie the boots and then heel-toe them off.

I expected nothing less from this place, but the cabin is truly specular. It is two levels. A wooden staircase and banister spiral its way up to the second floor.

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