Page 48 of Candy Canes & Peppermint Kisses

I laughed softly, probably awkwardly, but the weirdness I’d caused from tensing up at his words dissipated the longer he stared at me and the more I felt that pleasure settle deep in my body.

“I didn’t mean to make things weird or uncomfortable. I just…” He cleared his throat and ran a hand over the back of his head. “I was just speaking the truth,” he murmured.

I licked my lips and willed my face to not be as red as a cherry tomato. I brought my beer up, finished it off, and found myself looking down at the empty bottle before looking at Tristan again. I shouldn’t have said what I was thinking, but the words tumbled out of me.

“Got anything stronger?” His grin was answer enough.

8

Tristan

An hour after dinner had ended, the kitchen cleaned, and both of us now sitting in the living room, I could say with certainty that we were drunk—not shitfaced, not totally trashed that we didn't know what the hell was going on, but drunk enough that we laughed too much and too long at the stupidest things, buzzed enough that I wasn’t even trying not to find reasons to touch her.

I wanted to push a strand of her blond hair away from her cheek, let my fingers linger on her smooth skin. I didn’t stop myself from laying on the charm hella thick, flirting shamelessly, throwing out the compliments until I should have felt embarrassed as hell for being so damn obvious, but at that moment not even caring.

“Oh my gosh, you have to stop,” she gasped out in between laughing. Dolly wiped a few stray tears that slipped down her cheeks as she tried to compose herself.

“I swear, it’s the entire truth.” I leaned back on the couch and shifted on the cushion so I could really stare at her. One of my legs was bent and resting on the cushion, my knee brushing against hers. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t purposefully sit like this so a part of me was touching her.

“You're telling me—” she finally said after composing herself, and the way her grin was spread across her face, her straight, white teeth flashing in pure happiness and amusement, had my heart beating a funny rhythm. “That you literally got into a fight over a loaf of bread?”

I couldn’t help my own smile from spreading. “Hey now. The asshole tried to overcharge me for some plain as hell white bread like it was imported. I barely had two nickels to rub together at the time, so I wasn’t gonna let him try and trick me into giving him any more when it was already day-old bread. So I said, ‘Give me the bread for what it’s worth, or I’ll give you a knuckle sandwich.’”

She tipped her head back and started laughing, and I was transfixed by the graceful arch of her neck. “Oh my God,” she wheezed out. “You did not say ‘knuckle sandwich.’”

I chuckled deeply. “I was fifteen and thought I was tough. What can I say?”

Her laugh had my cock twitching. The fucker had been hard this entire time, but I’d been able to hide it with strategically placed hands, an arm, even one of the throw pillows on the couch at one point.

We laughed for a few more minutes, and then we both started to sober slightly, not because the alcohol was fading, but because the atmosphere got a little bit more serious, the thickness between us accelerating. Or at least that’s how it felt to me the longer I stared at Dolly and the way I let my gaze shamelessly move along every single inch of her.

I knew the moment she realized I was staring at her a little too hard, a little too intensely; her shoulders went back slightly, and her spine straightened. I saw the prettiest blush tint her high cheekbones, watched as she lifted her hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, her fingers shaking slightly.

“I’m sorry,” I found myself saying and blindly reached for one of the throw pillows that I’d kicked off the couch, placing it over my lap strategically, hoping she wouldn’t see the obvious reason why I needed to do that.

“What for?” she said softly as she looked at me with an almost shy expression on her face.

She started picking at the edge of her shirt, and I could tell she was nervous. I hated that I’d made her feel that way but hoped it was a reaction because she was feeling the same kind of intense arousal and chemistry for me as I felt for her.

“For blatantly staring.” She snapped her head up after I spoke those words, and our gazes locked.

“I didn’t notice,” she whispered.

I smirked and braced my arm over the back of the couch, leaning forward an inch, keeping my focus trained right on her. “Yes, you have,” I said so softly that I would’ve wondered if she’d even heard me if not for the fact her eyes flared slightly. “I haven’t made it a secret, Dolly. I’ve been staring at you so much tonight there’s no way you can’t feel it.” I blamed the alcohol for the way I ran my mouth, but the truth was I didn’t think I would’ve been able to wait very long to keep my feelings from her, not with her now living with me.

This moment was bound to happen sooner rather than later, and it seemed the alcohol accelerated the process. “You can feel it, can’t you?” I wasn’t only talking about my gaze constantly being on her tonight. I was talking about the electricity and intense chemistry that moved between us like a living entity.

And then I noticed the subtle changes in her. Her pupils dilating, her lips parting as she sucked in a shallow breath, her chest starting to rise and fall fast with her increased breathing.

I shouldn’t have let my gaze lower to her chest, but I couldn’t stop myself. I wanted to see how much her body was affected by me like mine was by her. And as I saw her hard little nipples poking through her shirt, I nearly groaned at how good all of this felt.

“Yeah,” she whispered, and I lifted my gaze to her face. “I’ve noticed.” Her voice was soft… breathless. She started biting her bottom lip again, and I wondered if it was a nervous habit. Regardless, my cock jerked in response.

“Come here.” My voice was deep, husky, and those two words spilled from me before I could stop them.

“Tristan?” Although she said my name like a question, she moved closer, this needful quality to her tone.

When she was close enough to me that the only thing I smelled was the scent of vanilla that clung to her, I lifted my hand and cupped her cheek. I felt bold, high on her. I couldn’t think straight with her around, not with the sight of her, her very scent, and the feel of Dolly’s silky skin against my fingers. My brain was short circuiting until I didn’t know what I was doing.

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