Page 54 of Pining for Christmas

Noelle

Reid is losing his mind. I put on a movie to give him a distraction, something to fixate on instead of freaking out, but I forget that Die Hard is one hundred percent a Christmas movie. Ho ho ho, motherfuckers.

“This is treason,” Reid says, his tone mild as he watches gunfire spray across the screen. “Kiss your bonus goodbye, Noelle.”

Yeah, right. “I don’t believe you.”

My boss’s mouth twitches, like he’s pleased I’ve finally seen through his threats.

When our food arrives, we eat wedged together against the headboard, bowls of chana masala and rice held up by our chests. It’s delicious—hot and spicy andgah, so perfect—and even Reid hums with approval as he chews, eyes on the movie.

That pleased little rumble, reverberating around his chest… itdoessomething to me.

I want to cause sounds like that from Reid Merryweather. Want to make him hum and moan and groan. Would he ever let me?

“You’re not going to shower?” I ask once we’re both finished eating, placing our plates on a tray by the door. My pajama pants swish as I cross back to the bed, hopping back up onto the mattress. “Seriously, the hot water feels so good after that drive. And you can’t spend all night in a necktie.”

Wordlessly, still watching the movie, Reid tugs his tie off and drops it on the rug beside the bed. My low belly tingles.

“That shirt can’t be comfortable, either.”

Reid flicks open the top two buttons, still not looking my way. My cheeks glow. And he’s shown the tiniest strip of bare skin, the merest sliver of his toned chest, but somehow it’s more erotic than if someone else paraded around buck-nude.

Reid Merryweather isalwaysbuttoned up. Always stiff and reserved, snapping and snarling when people try to get past his barriers.

But not me.

With me, he’ll stretch out on this patchwork quilt and watch a holiday movie; he’ll eat room service food and take off his tie.

What else would he do? What else does hewantto do?

“So, those PJs,” I try again, but Reid shakes his head and pats the bed next to him.

“Come here, Noelle.”

Oookay. Wriggling back into place so I’m propped next to Reid against the headboard, I try to focus on the movie. Try to follow the plot.

It’s impossible. This close to my grumpy boss, so close I can smell the faint scent of his aftershave and feel the heat of his body, I can’t think straight. Can’t focus at all. Can’t do anything except lie here, body humming beneath my borrowed pajamas, nerve endings singing out with how badly I want to be touched.

Touched byhim.Reid.

Would he like that? Or would he roll his eyes and go sleep in the car?

Oh god, he’s so handsome. Every time I steal a glimpse of him out of the corner of my eye, my belly swoops. His jaw is hard, shadowed with the day’s stubble, and his forehead is creased with a frown. That thick, dark hair would be so great to tug. Reid gusts out a strained sigh.

“Are you going to watch me or this infernal Christmas movie, Noelle?”

My heart races under my pajama shirt. “You.”

Reid’s mouth twitches again. He raises an eyebrow, still watching Bruce Willis pick off bad guys. “And after breaking the rules, too. Such a waste of your December bonus.”

“Well, since I’ve lost my bonus anyway…” My hands are damp with nerves as I turn away and dig in the nightstand, pulling out the one decoration I saved from Reid’s earlier purge. Tucked it in the drawer when he wasn’t looking: a crumpled sprig of mistletoe, with pearly white berries nestled among dark leaves.

It lands on Reid’s lap with the softest of thumps.

My boss blinks down at the mistletoe. Icy blue eyes turn and pin me in place.

Is it always this hard to breathe? My lungs have stopped working.

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