Page 10 of His for Christmas
I nod, stepping slightly aside but not far enough. He leans in, his shoulder brushing mine, to examine the delicate tableau of antique books and crystal. His scent envelops me—sandalwood and something darker, uniquely him. I find myself breathing deeper to capture more of it.
"The crystal represents ice?" he asks, though I sense he already knows the answer.
"Yes. I wanted to evoke the feeling of a frost-covered morning, the kind that features in so many Christmas stories. When everything is silent and transformed."
His fingers brush against mine as he reaches for one of the crystal drops. The contact is brief but electric, sending a shock wave up my arm.
"Transformed," he repeats, his voice dropping lower. "I understand that concept intimately."
He's standing so close now that I can see the varied shades of blue in his irises, the slight shadow of stubble along his jaw despite his immaculate appearance. I should step back, maintain professional distance. Instead, I find myself swaying slightly toward him, drawn by some invisible force I can't resist.
"Holly," he says my name like he's tasting it, "do you remember what we discussed yesterday about restraint?"
I nod, not trusting my voice.
"I find myself testing the limits of mine when I'm near you." His gaze drops to my lips, then returns to my eyes. "A novel experience for me."
"Mr. Sterling?—"
"Dominic," he corrects, his voice firm.
"Dominic," I whisper. "This is—I'm here to work for you."
"Is that all you're here for?" He reaches up, his fingers hovering near my cheek without quite touching. "Because I think we both know there's something else happening here."
The air between us feels charged, like the moment before lightning strikes. I should deny it, should reestablish professional boundaries. Instead, I hear myself say, "I don't usually mix business with…personal matters."
"Usually," he echoes, a hint of satisfaction in his tone. "But nothing about this situation is usual, is it?"
He's right. Nothing about my reaction to Dominic Sterling falls within the realm of normal client relations. I've never been drawn to someone with this intensity, this immediate and overwhelming pull.
His hand finally makes contact with my face, his thumb tracing my cheekbone in a feather-light touch that nonetheless burns like a brand. I can't help but lean into it slightly, my eyes fluttering closed for just a moment.
"Do you know what I thought when I first saw you in my collection room?" he asks, his voice a low rumble that I feel as much as hear.
I shake my head slightly, careful not to dislodge his touch.
"I thought: finally. Something I didn't know I was looking for until I found it."
The words send a tremor through me. He's describing exactly how I feel—this unexpected recognition, this sense of finding something I never knew I was missing.
He leans closer, his breath warm against my lips. I'm certain he's going to kiss me, and every cell in my body leans toward that possibility. But at the last moment, he pulls back slightly.
"But I won't rush this," he says, his eyes still fixed on mine. "When I take what I want from you, Holly, I want your complete surrender. Not just a moment of weakness in the library."
The word "take" should offend me. I should step back, remind him that I'm not his to take. But the possessiveness in his tone ignites something primal within me—a desire to be wanted with such intensity, to be the focus of such single-minded attention.
"What if I don't surrender?" I challenge, surprising myself with my boldness.
A slow smile spreads across his face, transforming his features from merely handsome to devastating. "You will." His confidence should be arrogant, but somehow it's not. It's a simple statement of what he believes to be inevitable. "But I'm willing to let you come to that realization in your own time."
His hand drops from my face, leaving my skin feeling bereft. He steps back, restoring a modicum of professional distance between us.
"Continue with your work," he says, his tone shifting back toward the professional though his eyes remain dark with promise. "I'll check your progress later."
As he turns to leave, I find my voice again. "Dominic?"
He looks back, one eyebrow raised in question.
