Page 45 of All I Want For Christmas

When Blue opened the bathroom door, Christian had already downed half his drink, feeling very hot and thirsty. Partially from the overly warm room, but mostly from anticipation. He totally dug Blue and if he was reading the signs right—please God, let him be right—she was on board with a little horizontal shuffle.

Not exactly how he had pictured his day going when he’d left the office today, but when Blue strolled back into the room, he almost fell to the ground in gratitude. Holy shit, she was smoking hot. As all the blood rushed from his brain south and his erection swelled to unmistakable proportions, Christian just stared at Blue. Her body was exactly as he’d pictured it, small, perky breasts and a flat stomach above lean, long legs. Legs he could perfectly picture wrapped around him.

She had a towel over her ass and she wrapped it over her front, knotting the fabric so that he could no longer see her thighs, which was damn disappointing.

“I have your drink ready for you,” he told her. “Like a good pool boy.”

“Excellent.” She pulled a pretentious pose then sat on the edge of the bed, crossing her legs.

He handed her the plastic mug and said, “Do I have permission to sit next to you?”

“I don’t know if that’s appropriate,” she said breezily. “But fine. It’s your job on the line.”

“I’m willing to risk it. Besides, my boss is on break.” Christian sat down next to her and there was a moment of silence between them. He’d swear he could practically hear their sexual energy crackling in the air between them. “This isn’t so bad, huh? We have all the important things.”

“We need music though,” she said. “And I don’t mean Christmas carols.”

Christian glanced around but there didn’t seem to be a radio or anything. “I have my phone but I left the charger in the car. I’m at seven percent.” And he’d be damned if he’d let her plug into it and tune him out. He wanted to talk to her, among other things.

“That’s okay. I guess I shouldn’t bitch. This is about as good as it gets under the circumstances.”

Hmm. That wasn’t exactly a glowing review on time with him. Not that he should blame her. This wasn’t how she’d planned her Christmas to go down.

“Hey. I’m really sorry about your cruise,” he said in a soft voice.

“Thanks.” She shrugged, but her smile was a little forced. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be a downer, but it suddenly hit me that I just spent a thousand dollars, which took me an entire year to save, on a trip I won’t be taking. That sucks. A lot.”

“That does suck. And I won’t give you a pep talk, I know how annoying that is.”

“You’re a smart man.”

“But I really think I should sing for you.” He nudged her arm, very much aware of how little she was wearing and how close they were sitting.

Blue turned and gave him an incredulous look. “What about that is a good idea? Can you even sing?”

“No. But that’s not the point. You want music.” He stood up and cleared his throat. “And I shall provide it.” He had to admit, this was a gamble. She might just get totally annoyed, but he thought that he was just awful enough that he’d get a laugh out of her, which was his goal.

“You’re a nut, you know that, don’t you?” Beneath her towel, she adjusted herself until she was sitting on the bed cross-legged. “And you’re scaring me.”

Christian grinned. “You so don’t look scared.”

“I am. I’m terrified of what is going to come out of your mouth.”

“The King, baby.” He stuck his hip and his hand out. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“No.” She tucked her hair behind her ear and frowned in confusion.

“Blue Christmas,” he sang in an off-key, warbly attempt at Elvis. “I’m having a?—”

“Oh, my God.” Blue held her hand out, her lips twitching. “Stop. That’s not going to happen.”

“Why not? It’s the perfect song because your name is Blue, obviously as you know, and it’s Christmas, which again you know, and you’re well, blue, as in feeling blue, so see, isn’t that a great irony?” He gave her a cheesy Cheshire grin.

“I was thinking more like it’s awful, but really isn’t irony just another word for awful?”

“Basically. Well, if you don’t like my Elvis, there’s always the Porky Pig version. B-b-b-b-blue C-c-c-christmas. ”

Blue burst out laughing. “You’re insane.”

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