Page 4 of Babies for the Christmas Grump
He’s standing too close, just enough for me to feel his presence. It’s a magnet pulling at me. I can smell the faint trace of his cologne. A woodsy, smoky scent that makes me feel warm in places I shouldn’t.
His voice, smooth as velvet, is still in my ears, and I can’t seem to stop smiling in that way that makes me realize I’m playing with fire.
“So, here we are,” he says, leaning slightly against the elevator door, arms crossed. His gaze doesn’t leave mine, not for a second.
His eyes, those icy blue eyes, seem to burn right through me, and I can’t tell if it’s the alcohol or the fact that he’s just that magnetic.
I try to act casual, as if I’m not about to combust. “Yep. Here we are.”
He steps a fraction closer. “And you’re going up to your room… alone?”
I swallow hard, trying to steady myself, but the floor feels wobbly. “Well, yeah. That’s usually how it works.”
He smirks, the corners of his lips lifting in a way that tells me he’s not buying it. “Are you sure about that?”
The question hits me like a bolt of lightning. The way he says it, with that low, teasing edge, my heart skips a beat. I shouldn’t be entertaining this, but the way his gaze stays on me, the way his voice slides over every word…
God, I want him to keep talking.
“Um…” I pause, not sure if I want to backpedal or just get on the damn elevator and avoid whatever this is. But I’m drunk enough to stop overthinking it. “I think so?”
He watches me for a second, seemingly considering his next move. Then, with a single step forward, he’s close enough that I can feel the heat of his body against mine.
“I don’t think you should be alone,” he murmurs, soft and slow, savoring each word.
My breath catches in my throat, and my skin prickles with the heat of it. Damn, he’s dangerous, and I can’t even figure out why I’m not stepping back.
“Why’s that?” I manage to ask.
His lips curl into a slow, confident smile. “Because I think you’re someone who likes a challenge. And I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t mind if I made it a little more interesting.”
Before I can respond, he steps even closer, close enough that I can feel the faintest brush of his hand on my wrist, a spark of electricity that makes my pulse race.
“I’m coming with you,” he says, his tone final. Clearly, it’s not even a suggestion.
I freeze for a split second, the idea of him coming to my room hitting me with a ton of bricks. The logical part of me screams tostop this madness, to throw up some barrier, but that part of me is quiet now.
Quiet and fuzzy, drowned out by the blood rushing in my ears.
“I… uh, you are?”
“Oh yes, I am,” he says with that same quiet confidence, his hand now resting on the small of my back, guiding me toward the elevator.
I don’t resist. Not even a little.
I can feel the heat radiating from him as he moves with me, and I’m acutely aware of every inch of him. The strong set of his jaw, the way his shirt stretches over his chest, the subtle but undeniable pull of his presence.
The elevator doors slide open with a quiet ding, and I step inside, my legs wobbly as jelly. He follows me in, pressing a button without even asking for a floor, and I glance up at him, breathless.
“You really think this is a good idea?” I ask, even though I know the answer. I’m just stalling, trying to talk myself out of this wild, crazy decision.
“Good idea?” His lips curve into that dangerously seductive grin. “I think it’s the best idea I’ve had all night.”
And just like that, the doors close behind us, and there’s no turning back.
As the elevator ascends, the tension between us grows thick, every inch closer to my floor taking an eternity. I can feel him beside me.
My heart is thudding in my chest, a frantic rhythm that matches the unspoken challenge in the air. When the elevator stops and the doors slide open, I feel a rush of heat in my face.
