Page 29 of The Crush of Christmas Past
Felix laughs. “Oh, yeah. She’sveryserious about the job. All about projections before erections. First budget, then booty. Metrics over sex tricks.”
“The woman works hard in the bedroomandthe boardroom,” Asher adds, joining in the teasing.
“None of you know shit about my job.” Theo shakes his head and laughs before addressing his brothers with mock authority. “Also, show some respect for my fictional girlfriend.” He swings his focus back to me. “Heard those are all the rage lately.”
My mind scrambles to decode the meaning of his words, which gives him the perfect window to lunge forward and snatch the shirt from my hands.
“Thanks,” he says, pulling it away with ease.
“Hey!” I exclaim, diving after Naughty Noel.
The next thing I know, I’m on my knees, positioned directly between Theo’s thighs. My body seizes up, every nerve firing as if to signal we’ve crossed into enemy territory.
“Playing dirty, huh?” he teases, lifting the shirt above his head, daring me to make a move.
“You started it!” I press my palm against his chest, steadying myself as I try to stretch higher. His muscles are solid planes of stone beneath my touch. A low growl rumbles from his throat—he’s probably regretting the contact now, but he waged this war by stealing my prize. “Theo!Come on. Just give it to me.”
He shifts slightly, his lips curling into a slow, dark smile. “Isla Greene, begging so prettily. This must really be a special piece of clothing.”
“At this point, it’s about principle,” I say through gritted teeth.
He raises a brow in challenge. “What are you willing to trade for it?”
“What do you want?”
His gaze drops to my mouth, and the rest of the room disappears. I attempt a breath, but my lungs fail to cooperate.
A loud whistle cuts through the tension. “I know the game is called Dirty Santa, but I didn’t expect things to getthisX-rated,” Willow calls out from behind me. “Popcorn, anyone?”
“I call foul!” Asher heckles. “You already sniped the gift, bro. Don’t steal my girl along with it!”
“The woman is exactly where she wants to be,” Theo retorts. “Isn’t that right, Isla?”
My name is a demand, and my pulse answers by kicking into overdrive.
“What are you doing?” I glare up at the shirt still dangling from his fingers. His proximity feels suffocating, yet I can’t bring myself to move away.
“Enjoying the game.” His thumb traces the fabric as if to purposefully taunt me.
The air is so charged a single spark is all it would take to ignite…something.
“Fine,” I relent, because I’m out of options. Ones that don’t end with me blowing Asher’s cover, anyway. “But it’ll be wasted on you. I highly doubt you even like the design.”
“You’re right,” he agrees with a nod. “If you end up collaborating with the company, offer to help proofread future messages to ensure accuracy.”
I purse my lips. “What?”
Theo bends his head, his mouth so close his breath brushes against my ear. His voice dips into a sinfully gravelly tone as he murmurs, “There’s no such thing astoo big.”
As the words trail a blaze of fire across my skin, my gaze flickers to his lap. The movement is so quick that I think I’m in the clear—until his chest vibrates with a quiet laugh.
“I…” I start, but trip over my tongue.
He arches a brow. “Yes?”
The bastard is indulging in my discomfort, and I hate how much his attention pleases me.
“I’ll find you a worthy gift to trade.” My pulse pounds, but I force the sentence out, clamoring for some control over the situation. “Just give me a few rounds.”
