Page 13 of Mistletoe Bargain with the Billionaire

“So…” she says back, awkwardly fiddling with the strap of her bag.

“I’m just across the hall if you need me.”Or want me.

“Okay. See you at seven for coffee and bagels downstairs and then we’re hitting the road, right?”

“Right. Long drive to Cedar Rapids tomorrow.” With that, I shuffle towards the door with her following me. I’m bone tired but I don’t want to say goodnight. I had fun tonight. Some of the most fun I’ve had in a long time.

Maybe Carol doesn’t want to say goodnight either. “Nick?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think we should…” I turn and there’s that beautiful blush staining her cheeks. I’m no mind reader but IthinkI know what that’s about. At least, IhopeI do.

I step back into her doorway, placing a hand on her waist before I can overthink it. “A good boyfriend would kiss his girlfriend goodnight, wouldn’t he?”

She nods, telling me I guessed correctly. I give her hip a tug, pulling her closer, and cup her cheek with my other hand, tilting her chin up as I lower my mouth to hers. I draw in a breath just before I reach her lips. Carol Wilder smells like tart, fresh apples… and the rental we’re driving. Just trust me, it’s an intoxicating mix.

Earlier today, she chastely kissed my cheek at the pet supply store. That little peck had felt like a pleasant electric jolt all through my body. You would’ve thought I’d never been kissed the way it got to me.

Now, when our lips touch for the first time in years, it’s like a power surge coursing through my blood, singing in my soul, that could light this entire town throughout the darkest winter night. Maybe it could power all of Denver. Hell, the whole of Manhattan. It’s galvanizing, phenomenal, spectacular.

Her hands rest against my chest, fingers curling into the fabric of my t-shirt as we kiss. A long, hot day of driving has left me worn and probably borderline smelly but she doesn’t seem to care. She kisses me like it’s our first kiss all over again, a little hesitant but happy.

She looks dreamy-eyed and on the verge of giggling when we pull back to take a breath. I love that look on her. “You’re a better kisser than you were at sixteen,” she tells me.

“I can do better than that. We just need more practice, I think,” I murmur before diving in for another, deeper kiss.

This time, I wrap her fully in my arms and slot my mouth over hers with more confidence, ready to taste her, ready to claim her. Tangy dill from the diner pickles and cinnamon gum flavor her tongue and you know what? I simply love it.

One hand cards through messy blonde curls while the other holds Carol’s waist. My heart beats wildly as I kiss her in the doorway of her hotel room until I know her lips will be as pink as her cheeks and nicely swollen.

A little moan escapes Carol’s mouth and I kiss her harder, wanting another one of those and another. Finally, I’m forced to pull away lest she realize I’m getting hard.From just kissing, for fuck’s sake.

When I end the kiss this time, that dreamy-eyed look is still there but she’s not giggling anymore. She looks almost like a deer caught in the headlights. “That was… good practice,” she says unsteadily.

She still has her hands on my chest and I wonder if she might pull me further inside. I want that more than anything at this moment. We could close this door, evict one grumpy cat from the mattress and let our bodies make their own kind of music on it instead.

But, with my lips still tingling from her kiss and other parts of me tingling too, she gives me a slight shove towards the door with a coquettish grin. “Goodnight, Nick. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

Accepting my dismissal, I smile and tell her goodnight. I push into my lonely room, bone tired but wide awake. And feeling strangely dissatisfied. Not sure I’ll manage much sleep on my own tonight.

9-Carol

Road Trip Rule #4: Breaks are necessary.

We’re on the border of Colorado and Nebraska the next morning when we take our first kitty rest stop. My eyes weren't even properly open until then. I tossed and turned all night, reliving that kiss I shared with Nick. If that’s his idea of practice, I need more of it.

I’ve heard stories about kisses that make your toes curl. Never really bought it until now. His kiss curled my toes and everything else.

Nick looks exhausted and I offer to take over behind the wheel for a while. Mr. Jinglebell makes some disgruntled noises from the back soon after so Nick climbs over the seats to check on him. I get a nice gander at Nick’s very nice butt in jeans… right before my cat barfs all over him.

“Sorry,” I say, wincing. “I’ll find a place to pull over so we can clean up.”

“Are we sure Mr. Jinglebell wouldn’t have been happier with your friend in Vegas while we took this trip?”

“I don’t really know her well enough to leave my cat with her for that long,” I murmur. She’s nice but a sort-of friend, willing to let me sack out on her couch for a hundred bucks a week. I couldn’t trust her long-term with Mr. Jinglebell. And, I don’t really have people I trust in LA anymore either. Travis made sure of that.

“Hmm,” he says, just like yesterday after Mr. Jinglebell’s Great Utah Escapade.

---