Page 34 of Once Upon a Holidate
“For us, too.”
They both stood. He reached for her empty glass at the same second she reached for his. Their hands bumped and their arms tangled. They both pulled back, and he looked at her.
She was beautiful, he thought absently. High cheekbones and a full mouth, the soft glow of her light brown skin. Plus all that long, curly hair.
Without considering he might be crossing a line, he reached out and fingered one of the curls. Her hair was as soft as he’d imagined. Her gaze met his, and he read interest in her brown eyes. The kind of interest that got a man’s attention and turned any day into a very good one. Awareness crackled between them.
He released the curl and drew her close, then slowly, deliberately settled his mouth on hers.
Her lips were soft and warm, igniting heat in his body. She put her hands on his shoulders and leaned into him. He felt the imprint of her breasts on his chest, the brush of her thighs against his. When he touched his tongue to her bottom lip, she parted and he eased inside.
It was a great kiss. All sexy and hot as they discovered the rhythm of the dance. He teased her tongue, liking the heat flaring and the way she hung on.
He wanted to pull back just enough to kiss his way along her jaw, then down her neck. He wanted to lift her up on the table so he could move between her thighs and start to explore her incredible body. He wanted to move her toward the bedroom and figure out at least fifteen ways to make her come before burying himself inside her and finding his own release.
And none of that was going to happen.
They broke apart at the same time. Her eyes were slightly glazed, which was gratifying considering his massive erection.
“If only we didn’t have kids in the next room,” she said, then cleared her throat. “Why is life all about timing?”
“Rain check?” he asked.
“Absolutely.”
***
Joylyn carefully applied a thin layer of glue on the tiny black hat, then set it on top of the snowman’s head. She held it in place for a count of ten before moving her fingers and studying the finished snowman.
The work wasn’t very interesting. She’d taken the morning to plan out the best way to put the pieces together. Once she was familiar with the components and the process, she quickly figured out how to attack the project using a kind of assembly line approach. It took more work upfront but allowed her to complete more snowmen per hour.
The money she earned would be helpful once the baby came. Just paying for diapers was going to be a challenge.
She moved the completed snowman to the box next to her, then glanced at the clock by the bed. She had a call scheduled with Chandler in a few minutes and didn’t want to be late. They only got to FaceTime a couple of times a week, so those calls were important to her.
She got up and stretched, feeling the pull in her back. She was so gross, she thought, waddling to the kitchen where she got herself another glass of water. Staying hydrated was important.
Once her glass was full, she opened the refrigerator and stared at the contents. She’d gone to the grocery store earlier to buy what she needed to fix dinner. Her dad had told her he wanted her to be responsible for dinner twice a week—not a surprise after her conversation with Wynn. She’d thoughtabout telling him no, but it had seemed like too much energy. Plus she supposed she knew that Wynn wasn’t wrong about all the things she said. Joylyn might not feel like she had it easy, but the truth was she did. The fact that she was away from her friends was her own fault. She should have stayed on base when she had the chance.
Feeling her mood spiral, she headed back to the bedroom and tried to distract herself with the snowmen construction.
Right on time, her laptop came to life, indicating an incoming call. She pushed the button to accept the call, then felt her heart jump when Chandler’s face filled the screen.
“Hey, beautiful girl,” her husband said with a smile. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine,” she said, even as tears filled her eyes. “I miss you.”
“I miss you, too. It’s just over a month until we’re together. You need to hang in there.”
“I’m trying. Tell me what’s happening with you.”
As he told her about his days and what he was doing, she stared into his eyes and longed to feel his arms around her. Being apart was so hard and unfair.
“How are things with your dad?” he asked. “You getting along better?”
“I guess. I hate being here.”
“I know you do, baby, but you and your dad used to be tight. Maybe that can happen again.”
