Page 69 of The Secret Mistletoe Promise
‘Does it help, though? Having someone you can talk to who’s outside the family?’
‘It does. You’ve been so kind, sogenerous, and I’ve been … a mess.’
‘You think I’m doing it because I pity you?’
She forced herself to look at him, and saw a fierce glintin his eyes that contradicted his gentle smile. ‘I have been my own worst enemy.’
‘It sounds like you didn’t always have a choice. And Imogen?’
‘Yes?’
‘Pity is not something I feel for you. I feel a lot of things, when I look at you and when we talk, and when you’re not here but I can’t stop thinking about you; but none of them get anywhere close to pity.’
She nodded, but what could she say to that?
‘Hey.’ He slid his hand down her arm, until his fingers twined with hers, then he was tugging, and Imogen didn’t know exactly what he was doing, but then he pushed his chair back from the table, and his lap was justthereso she got up and, still holding his hand, stepped around his legs and sat down. Dexter brought his free hand around her waist, pulling her closer.
‘Hey.’ Their faces were only a few inches apart, and she leaned down, pressing her mouth to his. The kiss started slow and soft, gently probing, and she brought her arms around his neck. Dexter was a patient kisser and a confident one, and his certainty bled into her, until she was returning his touch with raw honesty, letting him know how much she wanted it, wantedhim.
‘Imogen,’ he murmured against her lips, his fingers digging deliciously into her waist.
‘Dexter.’ She laughed a little, because she felt like a teenager.
‘How would you feel—’
The doorbell rang, and Imogen sprang away from him so quickly that she almost fell off his lap. Dexter tightened his hold on her, his eyes wide with surprise. ‘I’d better—’
‘That’s Amber and her mum,’ Lucy said loudly, and Imogen realized she was standing behind the sofa, and could have been watching them for any length of time. ‘I’ll go.’
‘I’ll … I’ll come and see you off,’ Dexter said, and Imogen climbed off his lap.
‘Bye Imogen,’ Lucy called. ‘I liked having pizza together.
I hope you have a good time with Dad.’
‘I will,’ she stuttered. ‘I mean, it was lovely to see you, too. Have a great time at football.’
Dexter went with Lucy to the door, and Imogen closed her eyes, listening to their cheery voices, Dexter recovering his composure and chatting with Amber’s mum, saying goodbye to Lucy, wishing her good luck and telling her he’d pick her up tomorrow. Then the door closed, and she could hear Dexter’s socked feet padding towards her. She opened her eyes.
‘I am so sorry.’
‘What are you sorry for?’ Dexter asked. ‘She saw us the other day outside Birdie’s house. She saw us on the ice rink. I’ve already had a lecture from her about how I have to treat you properly.’
‘Youhave?’
He nodded. ‘And I know it’s not straightforward, that I will need to explain things and be careful with her emotions, and that she’ll likely get confused and angry at some point, when …’ he paused, his Adam’s apple bobbing, ‘when you go back to London. But I don’t want to use that as a reason not to be with you.’ He stroked her hair back from her forehead.
‘Me either. But I don’t want to be selfish.’
‘Beselfish,’ Dexter said. ‘If it means kissing me again,spending time with me, spending the night here with me, then do it – let yourself have it, if you want to. That’s me being selfish, and right now I am completely fine with that.’
‘OK, I …’ There were so many things she could say, was already thinking, to contradict his statement, but then she thought of Catherine Morland, the way she made mistakes and then let herself move on – after some internal handwringing and a promise to herself to do better:
Her mind made up on these several points, and her resolution formed, of always judging and acting in future with the greatest good sense, she had nothing to do but to forgive herself and be happier than ever.
Dexter misread her hesitation. ‘But if you don’t want any of that, then of course that’s fine too. Whatever you want, Imogen. You get to choose.’
She looked at him, those last four words so simple and profound, they unlocked something inside her. She launched herself forward, wrapping her arms around his neck as she pressed her lips to his, with none of the care or finesse of a few minutes ago. Dexter kissed her back, his warm hands bracketing her lower back, his thumbs sliding up and down her waist in a way that made her spark to life, a live-wire, breathless and erratic.
