Page 147 of The Holiday Fakers
“Should I be worried?”
I grin. “Hope not.”
“Okay, what is it?”
As I gaze at her, my heart races. Not just because I’m constantly hot for her, but I’m worried what I say next might scare her off.
But then again, what have I got to lose? And I don’t want to waste any more time.
I swallow. “I was thinking of giving up my apartment. Getting one across the river in Brooklyn.”
Her eyes light up.
“And because I’ll save a bunch of money moving out of Manhattan, I thought I’d get a three-bedroom place. So, there’d be room for family and friends to come stay, and a dedicated studio for you, my favorite artist.”
Now her eyes are glossy. Are these happy or sad tears?
“And I don’t want you to pay any rent,” I say quickly. “Save that money. You don’t know what’s happening with your job, and I’d rather you spend it on yourself.”
“You … want me to move in with you?” Her voice is a whisper.
Shit.“Yes,” I reply firmly. “As soon as you’re ready.”
She gulps in a breath, her lower lip quivering, then lets out a breathless laugh even as a tear streaks down her cheek.
“Is this a good thing?”
Piper throws her arms around my neck, peppering my face with kisses. “Yes! Oh my God, Brody, it’s averygood thing.”
My shoulders sag with relief. “Thank God.”
She laughs again. “Best. Christmas. Ever.”
Then her mouth slants greedily over mine, and my whole body roarsyes.
I don’t think or care about anyone who might be around us as she shifts to straddle my lap. My blood as well as my brain has rushed south, and my cock is now in the driver’s seat.
Our tongues slick against each other and pleasure fizzes across my skin. It’s like we’re floating on a cloud of lust, the ground no longer stable beneath my feet.
I growl as I thread my fingers through her hair, anchoring her mouth on mine. This incredible woman rocks my world and no other woman has ever made me feel like this. Like I’m flying.
Piper rips her mouth from mine with a gasp, and I realize with a jolt of fear that the Earth is literally moving.
Or rather,we’removing.
Straight down the hill.
“Brody!” Piper screams as I dig my heels into the snow, trying to slow our descent.
Snow and ice arc into the air from my heels like spray from a jet ski. However, gravity is not our friend right now, and the weight of two people on the sled means we’re hurtling faster and faster.
Piper’s clinging to me tighter than a barnacle on the bottom of a lobster boat, screaming so loudly my eardrums scream back. I don’t have a hold of the rope, so I can’t steer, and there are a dozen trees at the bottom that all have our names on them.
Engaging my quads like I’m maxing out on the leg press, I dig my heels in harder, feeling the resistance as we begin to slow.
At the bottom of the slope, people scatter out of our way. We’re not going to glide to a graceful stop anytime soon.
“Hold on tight!” I yell, even though if she clasped my neck any harder, it’d break.
