Page 16 of The Crush of Christmas Past
That’s why I rush to keep things going.
“Last year’s belted out ‘Jingle Bells,’” I explain. “Jovie kept pressing them and draining the battery. Then they devolved into sounding like Gremlins and scared the shit out of her.” I grin at the memory. “You’ve missed out on some good designs over the years.”
At those words, Theo’s eyes darken, and my smile instantly shrinks.
“So, what’s your excuse for being up at this ungodly hour?” I ask, grasping at straws now.
Why do I care if he keeps talking?
He sets his mug down with a soft clink before pushing off the counter. His features harden as he approaches, all trace of amusement vanishing from his face. When he leans over, the swift, powerful move shifts the air around us.
“Are you and my brother sleeping together?”
It takes a moment for my thoughts to catch up. My limbic system flails as my brain scrambles to kick into action.
“Ash and I are a couple.” I grit my teeth and thrust my voice into the same level of detached cool he so often doles out.
“We have plenty of space," he says. "What's wrong with the room you use all other visits?"
If he’d bothered to show up for any of the holidays, he’d know that washisroom.
Evangeline exorcises it of his presence before I arrive—disinfects, vacuums, changes the sheets—but traces of his scent always linger. Fresh nature and crisp cologne. Light enough to feel like a memory, but sufficiently present to spark one too many fantasies.
I love sleeping in Theo’s room.
Obviously,onlybecause he has the best mattress in the house.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Our height difference forces me to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact, but I refuse to squirm under the weight of his stern stare. “Separate rooms for two consenting adults in a romantic relationship would be wasteful.”
He doesn’t need to know that Asher is currently camped out next to the bed on a couple of old bean bags. The guy has an uncanny ability to pass out anywhere. Floors, cars, bathtubs—he’s tackled them all. He’d probably survive a snowbank in a pinch.
“Sleeping apart would be…inefficient,” I needle. “Don’t you think?”
“No.” Theo’s response is delivered with a deliciously harsh edge that sends a shiver down my spine.
The space between us feels impossibly hot now. The scent of his skin—clean and earthy—entwines with traces of mint and whiskey on his breath. I’m suddenlyveryaware of how close he’s standing.
I ignore the buzz coursing through me, focusing instead on the half-eaten treat in my hand. The white and blue sugar crystals morph into an oddly captivating distraction.
“I don’t get it,” he grits out, irritation lacing each syllable. “The two of you have ne—”
“Is it that hard to believe a Thorne man might find me appealing enough to fuck?”
The cover of the night has loosened my tongue. I should watch my mouth or risk regretting my words in the morning, but the reaction my question draws out of Theo makes the risk worthwhile.
“Isla.” My name spills out like a curse. His eyes dim, forest-green swallowed by dilating pupils, as if the very sight of me hurts.
“Theo.” I curse him right back.
Because…
How dare he—this?
We’re both breathing faster now—when that shift occurred, I have no idea—and the flex of frustration oscillating between us is so palpable it stings.
I savor the discomfort, a small hum of satisfaction vibrating through me. I’m getting a perverse amount of enjoyment from watching his control fray.
“Look…” Theo scrubs a hand over his face, a grimace pulling at his features. “Asher and Sienna have a long history.”
