Page 7 of Their Christmas Miracle

Joshua

Holly is staring at my hand like she really can see something written in those familiar lines. Which she can’t, obviously — otherwise she wouldn’t be touching me. Because trust me, if she knew what I was thinking?

Her father really shouldn’t let her out of the house wearing clothes like that. The fabric is so thin it’s almost translucent. There’s another tattoo on her thigh — something serpentine like a dragon or a fish or something — that shines through the fabric.

This close, her smell permeates the air. That sharp, exotic miasma of before is still there, but something softer — something floral — weaves through it now, as well.

How will that smell change when I push aside that skirt of hers? When I spread her legs and run my thumb over her sex?

She chews on her gum, her lips parting as she exhales. I can feel that breath on my palm, that warm air fluttering over my wrist.

Can smell watermelon gum on her breath.

God, would she taste like watermelon, if I were to push her up against the elevator wall and grab hold of her jaw and just—?

“Four kids? Rock on, dude.”

“What? Four?” I twist my hand, trying to see where this outright lie has been etched onto my skin.

“Two marriages. Your love line is quite twisty. Means you’re a passionate lover.”

Her eyes flicker up. They’re such a dark brown, they almost merge seamlessly with her pupils. Gleaming out between her alabaster skin and that ludicrously multicoloured hair, she seems — in that moment — elflike in her beauty.

Yeah, I read Lord of the Rings. I won’t lie: put a pair of pointy ears on her, you got yourself a very lucky geek.

An elf that chews watermelon gum…

I shift and have to start thinking hard about valuation comps. My eyes flash to the side: fifteen floors to go.

Dear God, what did I do to deserve this punishment?

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