Page 53 of The Crush of Christmas Past
“I want—” My body leans in, begging me to cut the distance. Even my heart races forward. It’s my mind that protests:Not like this. Not with years of silence and unspoken words still poisoning the air. “I need to get dressed.”
Before I do something irreversible.
“And then we should talk,” I add quickly.
“Or you could ask me,” Isla counters.
I blink. “What?”
“You can get dressed, Theo,” she says, stepping closer, “or you can ask me.” Her eyes lock onto mine. There’s a challenge in their depths. An invitation. Aplea. “We’re on equal footing now, right?”
As the meaning of her words crashes over me, every nerve flares to life.
“So…” She lifts her chin. “Ask.”
She’s tempting me to make good on every unspoken fantasy. Daring me to make it real. Makeusreal.
“Isla—” My throat is so tight nothing passes through. Not even air.
“Just to be clear, this isn’t naive nineteen-year-old Isla’s wish. This is twenty-five-year-old Isla’s want. And she’s not fooling herself about what getting on her knees for you would mean.”
“What would it mean?” I rasp, lungs and heart working overtime.
“Nothing.” Her reply is a startling blow to my expectations.
“Nothing?”
“A one-time thing. You helping me get us out of my system. No strings attached.”
“One-time thing?”
“Are you going to keep repeating everything I say?”
“I’m just trying to make sense of your proposal.” Freeing one hand, I dig my fingers into the back of my neck. Every tendon is coiled tight, ready to snap. “I have to know where your head is at before…” My mouth is so dry, the words crack on my tongue.
“Before I give you head?” she supplies.
My brain flatlines. But not before tossing a few images my way first.
Isla on her knees. My fist in her hair. Her plump, pink lips wrapped around my cock.
I forget how to breathe. How to stand. How tohuman.
“Fuck.” I drag my palm over my jaw. “Look, I need a second to grab some clothes. I’m at a disadvantage here.” I nod toward her cropped sweater and jeans.
It hardly helps that my nudity is a blatant reminder of where all the blood in my body is currently congregating.
She frowns. “Won’t that defeat the purpose?”
“We’re not…” I take a swift step back. “I’m not…” I groan. “I can’t…won’task you to—”
“Oh.” Isla scoffs, cutting me off. “Okay. Crap.Wow. I’m an idiot.” Her eyes squeeze shut, fingers digging into the furrow between her brows. “Damn déjà vu.” She lets out a sharp, bitter laugh. “Apparently, I’m still that stupid. I should’ve known better than to let myself believe I—”
“Isla—”
“No.” She takes a step back, arms folding around herself as if to shield her heart. The way her shoulders curl in makes me want to tug her close and hold her hostage against my chest. “I get it.”
“Isla—wait.” Ireach for her. “Let me explain.”
