Page 48 of A Very Merry Enemy
“Holiday,” he says, his voice a growl.
“Yeah?”
“Don’t.”
I look up at him, studying those green eyes that have haunted me since we were kids. And I close the distance between our mouths. Slowly, I move in, our lips just inches apart. My eyes close as I gently slide my lips against his.
He goes completely still, but I feel his sharp intake of breath. His lips are soft against mine, but frozen, not moving, not responding, not kissing me back. Lucas’s whole body tenses like every muscle is locked. His fingers press harder into the counter behind me. Then I feel him lean forward, his body betraying what his lips won’t admit. His breathing changes, becoming ragged and heavy. I feel the exhale against my mouth, warm and shaky. But his lips stay still. A wall I can’t break through.
I pull back, and his eyes open.
He gives me a shit-eating grin.
“What exactly did you think would happen?” He sounds amused.
My face burns hotter.
“Go ahead. Tell me.” He’s still close, and he rests his hand on my hip. “You thought you’d kiss me and I’d what? Just fall at your feet and worship you?”
“Hoped,” I say, not giving a fuck.
His eyes drag down to my mouth and focus on it. “You want me so badly you can barely stand it.”
My breath catches because he’s right, and we both know it.
“And you know what’s really funny?” He leans in closer, his lips almost touching mine. “Part of me wanted to kiss you back just to fuck with you. But I’m not playing games.” He gestures between us. “This can’t happen.”
“I need to go.” I take a step away, needing distance, feeling stupid as hell.
“Yeah. Probably a good idea.” He steps back, finally giving me space. “Where are your keys?”
I pull them out of my pocket to show him and he snatches them from my hand.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he says.
“Give me my keys, Lucas.”
“Fuck no.”
“I’m fine?—”
“You’ve had four glasses of whiskey. You’renotfine.” He heads for the stairs. “Come on.”
“I can call Sammy?—”
“At nine? So he can drive over here and ask why you’re trashed at my house? No fuckin’ thanks.” He looks back at me. “You’re staying. Now, you can follow me, or I’m throwing you over my shoulder and carrying you.”
“Please. You wouldn?—”
A second later, Lucas is lifting me just as he said, like I weigh nothing. “You can’t just dothat!”
“Stop me,” he says, basically slinging me over his shoulder, holding my thighs. My face is still burning from the non-kiss, his smirk, from all of it.
Once we’re in his bedroom, he sets me down on the edge of the mattress, then clicks on the lamp. “I’ll be downstairs sleeping on the couch.”
He’s almost to the door when I blurt it out. “Stay.”
He stops, but he doesn’t turn around.
