Page 58 of Booked for the Holidays
Holy hell.
I want to kiss her.
Not just kiss, butpossess.
Consume and care for.
With a hungry, aching need. A pulsing desire. A yearning to touch more and more. I want to cover every inch of her body and learn my way as I go. I’d draw a map so I never get lost, highlighting my favorite parts and revisiting them again and again.
I lick my lips greedily. Her eyes dart to my mouth, fixating on my tongue and aware of my every move. Feeling bold and reckless, drunk off her and in no rush to sober up, I take a step closer. My hands land on either side of her face, bracketing her head and caging her in.
Tell me to run, Bridget.
Tell me to get out of your space.
Tell me where to kiss you first.
The column of your throat? The shell of your ear? The spot above your chest that’s a constellation of freckles?
Tell me this makes you happy.
“Theo,” she whispers. My name sounds like a ragged pant. A shaky plea. An arduous ask.
It’s an offering. A dare. A challenge. One I almost,almost, accept.
“Bridget,” I repeat. I cup her slick cheek, palm fusing to her skin. I allow myself two seconds to pretend. Two seconds of believing I’m going to pull her close, put my lips on hers, and drown under the storm clouds, forever fused to her body and soul.
Another shiver racks her body. Her teeth chatter, and I crash down to reality. The pink is rapidly fading from her cheeks, replaced with pale alabaster that makes her look fragile. Breakable. So far from the badass, world-avenging woman I know.
“You’re going to get sick standing out here.”
“I’m f-fine,” she says.
I should shut this down. Tossing her a towel and walking away is an option. Thesafeoption.
I’ve never been fond of being safe, I guess, because I utter the five dumbest words in the history of the universe.
“You’re coming to my house.”
TWENTY-THREE
THEO
Waves of watercascade down her cheek, then her neck, disappearing under the hem of her dress like shooting stars.
“What does that mean?” she asks.
“You can use my shower while I dry your clothes. It’s less than a ten minute walk up the road.”
And I’ll do my best not to think about you naked,I want to add,and probably fail miserably.
“I can run home and grab something. Or turn the heat on in the store.”
“Have you ever turned the heat on?”
Her lip quirks up and she shakes her head. “No. I just don’t want to impose or anything. It sounded like the better answer.”
“Impose on what, exactly? All the things I do in my house midday?”
