Page 55 of Booked for the Holidays
“You’re so close already, aren’t you?” My hands grip her hips tighter, guiding her movements with just enough pressure to make her whimper. “Don’t hold back now.”
Her body goes taut, breath catching, and then she falls apart against me with a soft, bitten-off cry, still grinding down against me like she never wants the feeling to end.
I hold her through it, chest heaving, my own body so wired I’m half afraid I’ll lose it, too.
But watching her fall apart for me, because of me, is more satisfying than anything else.
When her legs finally stop trembling, I kiss the corner of her mouth and whisper, “You’re mine, Juniper. Whether you’re ready to admit it or not.”
EIGHTEEN
JUNIPER
I’m buzzing this morning.Horny, restless, agitated energy hums under my skin like I plugged myself into a Christmas bulb socket. I can’t even focus on my audiobook while I get ready because every other sentence fades out to make room for him. For last night.
God, last night.
The memory still makes my knees weak. I can’t believe I did that. In my bookstore. Liam’s ridiculously strong thigh between my legs like I’d been starving for him for a decade. Which, apparently, I have been. But the evidence should not have been left all over his pants. Yet, it was.
And his mouth. Those filthy, perfect words.
Grind that sweet cunt on my thigh.
Jesus, I didn’t know I’d like it that much. But then again, I do read about dirty-talking heroes for a living, so maybe it shouldn’t have shocked me that his filthy mouth made me come so damn fast and hard.
And now? Now I’m left standing here, staring at my coffee pot like it holds answers. What the hell is happening between us?
After the thigh incident, and my meltdown of a climax, we just went back to restocking shelves. Like nothing happened. Like we hadn’t just done that. My brain was a blur ofholy shitanddo not get attached.
Because there is no us. Not really.
If his rejection last year gutted me, what’s it going to feel like when he packs up that perfect accent, that orgasm-inducing thigh, and flies back to his perfect New York City life next week?
I’m reading into it too much. It was just a moment. A wild, hot, filthy moment with a man I’ve secretly wanted since the day I met him. Nothing more.
My head clears just in time to stop myself from pouring the pot of coffee into my bowl of oatmeal.
Oh my god, Juniper. Get it together!
I set everything down and breathe. One step at a time. Coffee in the mug. Oatmeal in the bowl. Sanity somewhere in my body.
When I feel more composed, I drift over to my advent calendar. Now that I’m certain it’s Liam who has been sneaking little surprises behind each door, it’s become a ritual I both dread and crave.
At least he’s not here this morning to watch me open it. The relief I felt when he texted to say he’s spending the day snowmobiling with Jasper was almost as satisfying as last night. I need the space. I need a minute to process.
And yet I miss him. His steady presence. His lazy grin. Another reason I can’t let myself fall back under his spell.
I crack open today’s tiny door and find a small firefly brooch tucked inside. Delicate wings, a swirl of green on its tail.
My heart clenches. It’s beautiful. Thoughtful.
Firefly. His nickname for me, whispered like a secret in the dark. His word for how I glow when I’m happy. How he says he’s always seen me—bright and warm and impossible to ignore. And he knows I love to collect little vintage trinkets like this.
It’s too much. Too sweet. Too intimate for my desire to keep him at a casual distance.
But I pin it to my sweater right away. Right over my heart. Like I want him there even if I know better.
I spend the morning alphabetizing a stack of holiday romances I’ve already organized twice. Every time I catch my reflection in the front window, the firefly pin winks back at me, like a dare I’m not ready to take.
