Page 66 of The Bratva's Christmas Bump
“You have a brother?” A red and gold streamer follows.
“I did.”
Hollie pauses and her hands lower. “Oh, shit… I’m not desecrating some kind of memory, am I?”
“Not at all. This was his penthouse about ten years ago. We used to decorate it together because my father often put me to work because he was the baby. After he died… I lost the desire.”
“How did he die?”
I can’t answer her and instead return the meal. The silence drags on long enough that Hollie accepts it, but when I next look up, she’s started taking all the decorations out of the box. A small Christmas tree rests on the coffee table, a Santa figurine balances against the wall, the streamers are draped over the couch, and she’s using tape to stick them to the walls.
It’s… amusing. And somewhat painful. In ten minutes, she transforms my lounge from the empty, bland pages of the catalog the furniture came from to a room full of color and life.
My heart hurts.
I don’t deserve such treatment, not even in the slightest. Maybe it’s her way of making herself feel at home.
“There,” she declares with her hands on her hips. “Now your place looks like someone actually lives here and not like we’re in a show home. Which, no offense, if minimalist is where your heart lies, then you should have expected this after we were at my parents’ house.
“Ahh, so I’m the fool,” I reply, spooning the pasta into two dishes and one Tupperware container.
“It’s true.”
Hollie moves around the lounge and adds a few more decorations. There’s a rug with snow-covered boot prints which she unfurls in front of the window (because apparently, Santa would use the balcony to save his back), some white glittering boots to be hung on the wall, a sprig of holly set on the mantel and then mistletoe that she hangs above the door without missing a beat.
Mistletoe.
I turn down the grill and approach Hollie while her back is turned. I’m a foot away when she seemingly senses my presence and her shoulders raise as she turns.
I don’t hesitate.
Under the sprig of mistletoe dangling precariously from the doorframe, I grasp her wrist in one hand and pull her forward. As soon as she’s close, my other arm glides around her waist, and I pull her close and kiss her.
Hollie freezes up against me and squeaks in alarm just long enough for me to realize I’ve made the wrong call. But as I jerk away, heat flushes through my body at the wide, surprised look on her face when our eyes meet.
“Maxim, what are you doing?”
“If you have to ask me that, then I’ve read this situation very wrong indeed. I’m so?—”
My words melt into a smothered groan as her lips crash back against my own. Her hand that’s not in my grasp cups my cheek, and she pulls me down to her level while arching her body into mine with a soft, needy whine.
So I didn’t misread things?
Confusion clashes with lust in my gut. She kissed me in the car because she wanted to, because perhaps she shares the same simmering feelings I felt since that night in the bar. And this crazy situation that’s brought us crashing together makes a little more sense when we’re together.
“You’re not mad,” I murmur when the kiss breaks and she gasps for air.
“No,” she whispers, leaning heavily into me.
“You’re…?”
“I don’t know, but if you talk for too long, then I might change my mind ,so…?” She arches one brow.
I don’t need her to tell me twice.
Lowering my haunches, I release Hollie’s wrist in favor of grabbing her by the thighs just under the swell of her ass and sweeping her up into my arms. She squeals in delight, looping both arms around my neck for balance and winding her legs around my waist once she’s high enough. Keeping her secure with one hand, my other reaches for the oven on the way past to turn it off as Hollie kisses me deeply.
She grinds so hard into me that the heat from her core presses against my abdomen and another spike of lust shoots south to my cock. Her hands graze through my hair, stroke through my beard, and clasp the sides of my neck, all while she kisses me repeatedly. I barely make it to my bedroom before my jeans have become too tight and the silky fabric of her sleepwear irritates me.
