“Merry Christmas,” I whisper, looking at Dad and Uncle Chris. I turn away, the familiar wave of sadness hitting me.
Not now. Humming a song, I head to the lounge. Looking at the Christmas tree as I walk over to it, I drop to my knees and begin moving the presents Mama placed there. I put the larger boxes down first and balance the smaller ones on top. I usually get Heaven and Allie different things because their tastes are so different.
“You’ll never see me, even though you’re all I see. No matter how crowded the room is. I’ll find you. When will you see that I need you? That I want you?”I continue humming as I place the final little one on top, satisfied, and pick up a few of Mama’s boxes, only for my hand to knock my smallest one and send it tumbling down behind the tree. “Oh no!”
Sighing softly, I crouch down, trying to find it, pushing aside a few stray branches of the tree.
There are too many presents. I move back and instead crawl around the tree. I’ll grab it from behind. I see a glint of silver and smile. There it is!
I reach out when suddenly I see grey boots.
Timberlands…
My breath catches, and my eyes travel up the boots that are crossed at the ankles, dark jeans, broad thighs, a muscular chest that strains against the T-shirt, barely moving.
Jayce…
My heart hammers as my gaze flicks up to the man whose head is leaning against the wall in the corner of the room, and he’s watching me through hooded eyes. Still sharp and terrifying.
The soft glow of the Christmas lights cast a shadow across his sharp jaw, the shadows of his cheekbones so sharp they could cut glass.
He’s even more gorgeous up close…
My heart pounds.
“I just…” Gods help me!
“Can you do anything right?” His voice is cold, deep, and cutting, and I glance down, realising how inappropriate this is, and quickly sit back, trying to discreetly tug my top over my breasts.
The scent of cedarwood, leather, and dark spice clings to the air around us, wrapping around me like a dangerous claw.
My breath hitches.
Why is he in here?
I can hear the sounds and laughter of everyone else. I’m notalone. I swallow.
“I just dropped a present. May I get it?” I ask, avoiding looking into those piercing eyes. All I can feel is him. His presence is strong, his aura intense and dark, overpowering me.
I see the slight flex of his hand against his knee, and my gaze flitters to the small present. I reach for it bravely.
“Careful.” His cold tone makes me freeze. I hear it then, the small scoff of contempt. “What’s the matter? Too scared to look at me?”
I press my lips together. I’ll get the present later.
“No,” I reply, looking him in the eyes, but if that was supposed to impress him, it doesn’t. His eyes just trail over me as if I’m something the cat dragged in. “Excuse me.”
Turning, I flee from the room, not able to be alone in his presence for another second longer.
And I hate how my heart hammers every time he’s near me.
I hate the effect Jayce Westwood has on me.
He terrifies me and yet... he consumes me.
Mugs of Hot Chocolate
Sienna
