Page 49 of A Very Merry Enemy
“Holiday—”
“Please. I don’t want to sleep in this big room and house by myself.”
He’s quiet for a long moment.
“Promise you’ll keep your ass on your side of the mattress,” he says. “If you cross it once, I’m out.”
“Okay.”
“I mean it.”
“I’ll behave!” I promise.
He moves to the opposite side of the bed. We lie down fully clothed with plenty of distance between us.
The silence stretches on, and I can hear him breathing.
Several minutes pass, and the world is spinning from the whiskey.
I feel the bed shift. His strong arm wraps around my waist, pulling me back against his chest. His face buries in my hair, and I feel him inhale deeply. It’s a long, slow breath like he’s trying to memorize the scent of me.
My hand finds his where it rests against my stomach, and our fingers tangle together. He pulls me closer, his leg hooking over mine. His thumb traces small circles on my stomach, and my fingers tighten around his. Neither of us speaks or says a single word.
Lucas Jolly’s arms wrap around me, holding me, and when I close my eyes to go to sleep, I let myself believe that maybe everything will be okay.
CHAPTER 10
LUCAS
Iwake up at four, holding Holiday Patterson like she’s going to slip through my fingers.
Her face is buried in my chest; her arm is slung across my ribs. Her breath is warm against my collarbone. I stay perfectly still, feeling every spot where our bodies connect. Her other hand rests on my stomach, and I memorize all of it like a fucking idiot because this is the closest I’ll ever get to having her again.
I am so fucked.
My head pounds from the whiskey. My mouth tastes like ass. My body aches from sleeping in jeans. Not to mention, the memory of her kissing me keeps playing on repeat. Her lips were soft and desperate. I didn’t kiss her back even though every cell in my body screamed at me to give in.
I have to get out of this bed before I do something stupid.
I slowly slide away from her. She makes a small whimper but doesn’t wake, just curls into the warm spot I left behind. That contented sigh nearly breaks me.
When I’m finally free, I watch her sleep. She’s curled up, her brown hair spread across the candy cane striped pillowcase like she belongs here.
She looks peaceful. Soft. Mine.
Except she’s not. She never was and never will be.
I quietly change my clothes and place her keys on the bedside table next to the lamp, then get the hell out before I talk myself into climbing back in bed with her.
My truck is freezing; the windshield is covered in ice. I crank the engine and blast the heat, shivering while it warms up.
I drive to the farm even though my shift doesn’t start until six, taking the curves slowly through the mist. Fog rolls over the gravel road.
I park near the barn and squeeze my eyes tight.
Holiday kissed me, and I felt it everywhere. All I wanted was to grab her face and kiss her back until neither of us could breathe.
I didn’t because I can’t open the door I spent over a decade nailing shut. It leads to hoping and wanting and getting destroyed when she gets bored. When she misses Paris. When she moves to New York. When her celebrity chef ex decides he wants her back.
