Page 49 of The Jinglebell War
She turns to look at me, her expression one of absolute delight.
She is so fucking beautiful all the time, but when she’s truly happy, her eyes lighting and her shoulders relaxing, she’s breathtaking. She’s the kind of woman any man would be an idiot to walk away from.
I’m drawn to her against my will. I cross the room just to be closer to her, to be encompassed by her joy.
When I’m standing next to her, our shoulders brushing, I look at the painting in front of us. I’m dressed in exact imitation of the lead singer of the boy band Below Fahrenheit, even down to my hairstyle and the eyeliner on my lids. “I was six and easily influenced.”
“Uh-huh,” she says. “You don’t look six. And Below Fahrenheit’s first album came out in two thousand and three. Unless you’re a year younger than me, you weren’t six in this picture.” She narrows her eyes. “And according to your driver’s license, you’re a yearolderthan me.”
I sigh. “Fine. I was ten. This was my Halloween costume.”
She snorts. “Try again.”
I face her to distract her from the painting, or maybe just because I want to be closer to her. “I was a fan for a few months. It was a tactic to pick up girls.”
She rolls her eyes and shifts to face me. “At ten?”
“I was advanced for my age. All the girls loved that guy.”
She shrugs. “Okay.” She moves along to the next painting, which is of my sister Maisey in the gown she wore to win the local beauty pageant for tweens.
Under her breath, Blue sings softly. The tune is familiar and, before I realize what I’m doing, I’m singing along.
She spins on me. “Ha! Not a fan?”
Shit. That was a Below Fahrenheit song. I’d like to claim I was distracted by Blue being so close to me, but the truth is I’m probably the band’s biggest fan ever. “So I know a couple of their songs. Everyone does.”
“That wasn’t even a song that got regular radio play. You’d have to own the album to know that one.”
“I dated a girl who had the album. We made out to the songs.” I don’t care anymore if Blue finds out I’m a fan. I’m just having fun with this game. We’re standing so close now I’d only have to tilt my head the slightest bit to catch her lips with my own.
Blue frowns exaggeratedly. “That must have been torture. Their music is the worst.”
That I can’t let stand. “Their music is hugely underrated. Especially their later stuff. Holding Hands in the Lilies should have been a classic, but everyone had stopped taking them seriously by the time it came out.”
Blue pops onto her toes and pokes me in the chest with one perfectly manicured finger. “Ha! I knew it! You’re a huge fan. Probably the biggest fan they ever had.” She shakes her head. “A fan of paranormal romance and Below Fahrenheit? What would people in Yuletide say if they knew?”
I grab her finger and lean in closer. Her eyes go wide and her breath catches. “You’re a fan, too,” I say. “Only a fan would know Rocking Cradle Baby Bye.”
Her top lip curls. “Is that actually the title of that song?”
I put a hand on her waist and, when she doesn’t twist away, I pull her against me. “You know it is.”
When she opens her mouth to argue, I bend and kiss her.
She hesitates long enough that I pull away, sure I’ve mistaken the moment. I’m already thinking it’s for the best and I never should have kissed her when she grabs the back of my head and pulls me down to her.
Blue doesn’t mess around with gentle closed-mouth kisses. She dives straight into me and I’m right there with her, kissing her back like I’m starving for her.
I feel like I am. Like I’ve been wanting her for months instead of minutes.
And then my brain turns off and I’m just feeling. My hands exploring her perfect curves, sliding under her sweater to feel her smooth skin.
I may have been wild in my younger years, but I’m beyond careful as an adult. I don’t lose myself to anyone, not even the one-night stand tourists.
But I want to get lost in Blue.
She leaps onto me, wrapping her legs around my waist, and keeps kissing me. I’m so hard it’s almost painful and I shift her down just enough to give us both some relief.
