Page 22 of Holiday Hoax

“I pride myself on being better than any battery-operated device.”

She turns her face into the leather to hide the way her cheeks flush at the innuendo. “That was dirty.”

Her foot brushes my half-hard cock as we round the corner to her building. I muster all my self-control to battle back the swelling desire I feel for her. She tries to pull her feet from my lap as the car pulls up to the lobby doors.

I grab her shoes and drop them on the front seat. “Dispose of these while I take Miss Mattia up to her apartment, please.”

“What?” She yanks her feet from my lap, and I let them drop. “Those are new shoes.”

“I’ll buy you new ones.”

She rolls her eyes. “I need them to get up to my apartment. I’m not going to walk across a Chicago sidewalk barefoot.”

“I know.” I slide out of the car and grab her hand.

“What are you doing–”

Her question is cut off when I sweep her up into my arms and begin walking toward the doors. Her arms move around my neck as her jaw drops.

“You can’t be serious. Put me down, Ian.”

“On a nasty city sidewalk?” I arch a brow in challenge.

“Yes.”

“Out of the question.”

I carry her through the door. The doorman looks up to greet us and then pales.

“Miss Mattia, are you injured? Should I call an ambulance?” he asks.

“No. I’m fine, Charles.” She reassures him with a smile. “My friend is just being ridiculous.”

“Charles, hit the elevator please?” I ask, gesturing with my head.

“Of course, sir.”

He hovers nearby, fretting. The elevator doors slide open, and I step through, turning to make eye contact with him. “Would you mind hitting the number?” I ask.

“Yes, sir.”

“Thank you, Charles,” I say as the doors slide closed.

“You can put me down now.” She wiggles against me, trying to escape my hold. “I’m probably getting heavy.”

“Not even remotely. Stop moving.”

A mental image of pressing her against the wall, my hands cupping her ass while her legs wrap around my waist enters my mind unbidden. Lust rides a wave through my veins until I feel my cock swell against my trousers. I smile down at the sight of her scowling at me.

“This is embarrassing.”

“This is chivalry,” I correct her.

She scoffs but finally relaxes in my arms.

“You’re lucky we didn’t get the slow elevator.”

“I could hold you in my arms for as long as I need to.” That statement punches me in the gut with the truth behind it.

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