Page 25 of All I Want For Christmas Is You

Oh, Lordy, this man got her hot and bothered.

You better stop this right now.

It’s not like you’re going to sleep with him.

The shock that hit her body had her hair practically standing on end. Which made her wonder: do you want to sleep with him?

She needed to change the subject. Fast. “Have you tried one yet?” She offered him the half-eaten cookie in her hand.

But he didn’t take it. Wrapping his hand around her wrist, he brought the cookie back to her mouth. “I’d rather watch you indulge.”

Watch.

Me.

Indulge.

Even though he hadn’t budged, it felt like he was crowding her, overwhelming her.

She tried to lighten the mood by gobbling up the rest of the cookie. “Mm. Yum.” She chewed the spicy, crunchy cookie, then swallowed.

“So, what, exactly, are we celebrating right now?”

“Our friendship.” She licked her lips.

He followed the path of her tongue, and he shoved a hand into his pocket. “Is that what this is?”

Holy crap. Was he… She glanced down to see an erection tenting his jeans. Excitement sped through her. No, no, no. Shut it down. “That’s all it can be.”

He swallowed. “It doesn’t feel like friendship.” His voice sounded gravelly.

“No, it doesn’t.” As they held each other’s gazes, a bud of sensuality blossomed in the very core of her, and an image dropped into her mind of them in bed. His big, strong hands roaming her body, caressing, stroking, gripping. His tongue licking a trail across her breasts, down her belly, and right into her slick, hot cove.

She jolted, as if he’d actually stroked her clit.

What in the world is going on with me? She’d never been this attracted to a man.

Ever.

And it made her feel feminine. Sexual. Alive. She hadn’t felt any of those things in ages. While she’d been in survival mode, she’d neglected a whole other side of herself. The part that made her feel like a woman. A desirable woman.

Oh, God, yes. She needed to be wanted. Maybe she could—

No. She knew herself. If she had sex with him, she’d feel terrible the next morning. And she couldn’t afford any more emotional lows. “So.” She forced herself to shut it all down and went back to her work. “You made cookies for your kids?”

He didn’t respond right away, and she guessed they both needed a moment to settle down. “Cookies. Yes. We made them every year for Santa. In the beginning, it was just basic sugar cookies for Jessa to decorate. But the older she got, the more she wanted to experiment. We did just about everything.”

“Except Moravian.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, too bad, because I think she’d like these.”

“Well, take some to her when you pick her up for dinner.”

“Good idea. Actually, it’s perfect, because I also used to make them for her when she was having a hard time.”

“And spending Christmas alone is a gut punch.”

He cringed, and she knew he was imagining his daughter waking up alone in her dorm room.

---