Page 78 of Booked for the Holidays
I think I love every second of it.
The last guest leaves with a satisfied sigh and a tote bag of signed books tucked under her arm. When the door swings shut behind her, the little bell above it jingles one final time before the shop settles into a hush.
Before I even glance up, I quickly open my laptop and type out a message toPourChoices.
JuniReads:The event was a success! We actually needed more prosecco at the end, but my once-annoying houseguest turned prosecco supplier saved the day.
I hit send and almost immediately, a reply pops up.
PourChoices:Knew it would be a success. And I have to say your houseguest seems to have been more helpful than expected. Glad he’s on your team.
I smirk at the screen, feeling a flicker of warmth at his words, and close the laptop. Somehow, it’s oddly satisfying to share the event triumph with him, even anonymously.
I glance up and freeze. Liam is leaning against a bookshelf across the store, phone in hand, sleeves pushed to his elbows, watching me with that look that turns my insides to syrup. My chest tightens. He doesn’t move when I flick off the twinkle lights or start stacking stray champagne flutes by the register. He just tracks me, like he’s memorizing every place my hands touch.
After the prosecco crisis was averted, Liam had made an exhausted Charlotte leave early, insisting he’d help me finish the event.
“You really didn’t have to help,” I say, tossing stray napkins into the trash.
“I know,” he says, one corner of his mouth lifting. “But I like watching you work.”
I laugh, but my pulse flutters. Because I know exactly how he likes watching me.
When I reach for the extra garland still half-pinned to the side of the big window, he pushes off the shelf and crosses the room in three easy strides.
“Leave it,” he murmurs, brushing a knuckle down the back of my arm. Goosebumps erupt under my sweater.
“I can finish—” I start, but his fingers circle my wrist, firm but careful.
“Juniper.” My name is a command and a promise all at once. He plucks the garland from my hand and tosses it on a nearby chair. Then he nudges me backward until my hips bump the base of the big rolling ladder attached to the floor-to-ceiling shelves.
“You’ve been up and down this thing all night,” he murmurs, eyes flicking to my mouth, then lower. “And all I could think about was you on it for me.”
Heat blooms low in my belly. “The ladder?”
His eyes flash, dark and hungry. “Mmhm.” He nods upward to the height of the ladder. “You, up there—spread for me.”
I bite my lip, my whole body buzzing. “Someone might see?—”
He smirks, hands sliding under the hem of my sweater, thumbs grazing bare skin. “Store’s locked. Lights are off. It’s just you and me.”
And just like that, I’m gone. Every good intention I had about keeping things under control goes up in flames.
His hands settle on my waist, thumbs brushing the sliver of skin where my sweater’s ridden up. He leans in, nose brushing mine. “Climb for me, Firefly.”
My knees go weak, but I do it. Step by shaky step until I’m perched on the fifth rung, just high enough that his face is level with my belly. His palms glide up my thighs as he leans in and presses a slow, teasing kiss just above my knee.
His fingers slide under the hem of my skirt, then he hooks a finger in the side of my underwear, tugging the soft lace down just enough to expose me to the cool air, and his warm breath.
He drags the fabric down my thighs, slow enough to make me shiver. My underwear falls to my ankles, and he pulls them over my heeled booties, tossing them onto the shelf behind him like they’re nothing.
“Fuck, look at you,” he whispers. He presses his mouth to the inside of my knee, teeth scraping just enough to make my hips jerk forward. “Already wet for me.”
I grip the ladder’s wooden rails tighter when his broad shoulders nudge between my thighs, spreading me open. He kisses up, up, up. A firm trail of heat that makes me squirm against the rung.
“Hold on for me, baby,” he breathes against my skin. His hands slide under my thighs, palms bracing my hips as he lifts me just enough to tilt me forward. “I’m going to make a mess of you right here.”
Then, his mouth is on me. Tongue stroking slow and firm. Teasing me with circles that make my vision blur.
