Page 8 of Holiday Temptation

Coming across a bench overlooking a still pond reflecting the city lights, I gesture toward it. We sit, our shoulders brushing.

Breaking the silence, I nudge him playfully, my fingers lingering on his arm a moment longer than necessary. "So, out of ten, how would you rate tonight's festivities?"

His eyes meet mine, a hint of mischief mingling with something deeper. "Well, considering I was dragged into a holiday market, stuffed with damn good food, and then made to pack boxes while exposing some childhood trauma... I'd say a solid 8."

"Only an 8?" I reply, leaning in slightly. "Clearly, the festive spirit hasn't fully taken over."

His gaze travels down to my lips and back up, the pause nearly imperceptible. "Well, the company elevated the experience. You, Emily, are... something unique."

Feeling emboldened, I lean in even closer, our faces inches apart. "I'll take that as a compliment, Mr. Grange."

He nods, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips, "It was meant as one."

The sudden honesty in his voice, so unlike the Dominic I'd grown accustomed to, leaves me momentarily speechless. Before I can even process his words, he leans in, capturing my lips in a kiss. It's unexpected, catching me off guard, but oh, I like it. There's a gentle urgency in the way he kisses, his warmth contrasting with the evening chill.

As the kiss deepens, I find myself losing track of time. The world around us fades away, leaving only the two of us and the soft rustle of leaves. His hands find their way to my waist, pulling me closer. I wrap my arms around his neck, tugging at the hair at the nape of his neck. He growls in response, deepening the kiss even more.

When we break away, we're both a little breathless. Trying to regain some composure, I playfully nudge him. "Does that increase my score at all?”

His smirk widens, "Maybe an 8.5 now?"

I feign shock, holding my hand to my heart, "A whole half point? Why, Mr. Grange, you're too generous."

Dominic chuckles, his stern façade momentarily broken. "Alright, maybe a 9. But don't get too comfortable. You might've momentarily swayed my opinion with your... tactics," he glances meaningfully at my lips, "but I'm not entirely sold on this whole 'magic of the holidays' idea."

"Oh, I have no doubt," I quip back, "It's going to take more than one night to crack that tough exterior of yours. But, you know," I say, leaning closer, my voice dropping to a whisper, "I'm persistent. And I’ve still got two more days."

"You're relentless," he grumbles, though his words have no real heat.

"That's me," I affirm with a sly grin. "And don't you forget it."

He rolls his eyes, but there's a smile playing on his lips. "I could never."

I wink at him, my voice filled with hope and determination, "Just wait until you see what I have planned for tomorrow."

Chapter 5

Dominic

Istepintotheoffice, the unmistakable aroma of freshly brewed coffee cutting through the morning air. As I approach Emily's desk, my eyes instinctively drift to her.

She's donned a red dress today, cinched at the waist with a green belt—reminiscent of a modern-day Mrs. Claus, if Mrs. Claus was undeniably seductive. A delicate silver necklace with a tiny snowflake pendant rests just above her collarbone, drawing attention to the soft curve of her neck. The dress hugs her in all the right places, making it difficult to focus solely on the festive spirit she embodies. The decorations on her desk seem to multiply each day, but it’s her confident posture, the slight parting of her lips, and the confidence she exudes in that outfit that holds my attention.

A small smirk forms on my lips as I place a coffee cup beside her mouse. The steam wafts up, carrying with it the scent of cinnamon and nutmeg, a marked contrast to the stark black coffee I'm used to. She looks up, and for a moment, her green eyes widen in surprise before sparkling with delight.

"It's nothing special," I grumble before she can say anything, attempting to maintain my usual stoic demeanor, but inside, I can't deny the warmth seeing her pleased brings me.

She chuckles, her laughter infectious. "You might be fooling others with the Scrooge act, Mr. Grange, but not me."

I raise an eyebrow, my lips curving slightly, unwilling to give away too much.

Before I can retreat to my office, she leans in slightly, her tone teasing yet firm, "Remember, you're mine after work again today."

“What torture do you have planned this time?” I ask, trying not to show how it affects me to hear her say that I’m hers.

She grins, mischief dancing in her gaze. "Just a hint—it’s good that it snowed last night. Make sure you bring your winter coat and gloves. You're going to need them."

With a grunt of acknowledgment, I continue toward my office. Memories of last night flit through my mind. The festive market lights, the scent of pine and roasted chestnuts, and the touch of Emily's hands as we worked together at the community center. The simple joy in her laughter. It was different, and I'd be lying if I said it wasn't somewhat refreshing.

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