The Christmas Virgin: A Filthy Dirty Christmas - Page 11

“Thanks,” she says as I hand it to her. She watches me the entire time I step into my sweats, and I mourn the loss of seeing Halo’s body lush and naked as she covers it with the cotton fabric.

“Not sure I like you in clothes at all, but until we eat, it’ll do.” This causes her to smile, big and bright.

“There should be a spare toothbrush in the bathroom drawer.” Her eyebrows arch, and I explain, “From the dentist, Halo, but I’m liking this side of you, too, sweetness.” I kiss her lips once more and then say, “I’ll start breakfast and then trade you places in the bathroom.”

“Alright.” She rolls her eyes, but not before I see the playfulness in the way she does it.

CHAPTER 13

Halo

These moments have been nothing short of amazing, even if the twinge of pain between my legs is smarting more than I thought it would. Though I guess multiple orgasms throughout the night will do that to you even if you’re not a virgin. I look at myself in the mirror—hair a tousled mess, lips plump and chapped from kissing, and my throat has been abraded by Warren’s whiskers. After thoroughly looking myself over, I open drawers until I hit the jackpot with the spare toothbrush and toothpaste.

“Get it together, Halo,” I say to myself between spitting the excess toothpaste out, trying to get myself out of la-la land. My eyes take in the chic yet masculine vibe he has around his place—soft beige walls, dark mahogany furniture with touches of hunter green and lighter browns. I browse around looking for a hairbrush and come up with nothing, so I run my fingers through my hair, attempting to tame the wild locks. Once that’s done, I turn around, turn the light off, and walk back into the bedroom. My thoughts are on getting into the kitchen to calm my rumbling stomach, but when I step on something, I bend down to pick up the business card.

I read the card, realizing it must be Warren’s business card since it holds his first and last name. What it says behind his name is where this is the kicker—he’s the damn Vice President of Get Hooked. I am so damn screwed. I inadvertently slept with my boss, and everyone at the Christmas party saw me walk in with the boss and leave with him.

My hand envelops the card. I could be so pissed at Warren, but I’m more upset with myself. I should have asked who he was. Now I’m left with the repercussions. The business card is still in my hand as I walk towards the chair where my clothes are, sifting through them with the thought of needing to leave this place as soon as humanly possible, grabbing my shoes and making my way into the kitchen.

I’d like to say seeing Warren standing at the kitchen island shirtless, a kitchen towel draped over his shoulder, the sizzling of bacon in the background.

“Uh, Warren, I have to go.” This is not how I wanted things to end, but right now, I’m a frazzled freaking mess and see no way out of it.

“What are you talking about, Halo?” he replies, turning off the stove, moving the pan to the back burner, and marching towards me.

“I should have asked. This is all my fault. I was so stupid. Sure, there was a possibility you were at the Christmas party because you were an employee, but this is ten times worse. You’re the Vice President. I’m in the marketing department.” I get the words out, somehow without stammering.

“Well, yeah, but what does this have to do with anything?” He really doesn’t get it.

“You’re the freaking Vice President. Everyone saw us there together. Do you know the rumors that are going to circulate? I’ve been at Get Hooked for a whopping three months. Now Rita, who, by the way, is the queen of gossip, will make a mockery of every single thing at the water cooler.” Yes, I use air quotes with one hand as I continue on. “I’m so screwed. I have to get home, pack my things, and move back to No Man’s Land, Utah,” I end my rant. Warren has somehow managed to take my clothes, shoes, and his business card out of my hands, discarding them on the couch while I was on a rampage.

“You done now?” he asks. One of his hands grips my hip, the other cups my cheek.

“No, I’m just winding up.” I blow out a puff of air.

“Well, sit on this before you go dashing out of here with six foot of snow on the ground in nothing but my tee, meaning you’ll likely freeze to death.” I close my eyes, because fuck my life. One night of passion is turning my world upside down, and now I know I’m stuck here with Warren and can’t lick my wounds while I’m packing when I’ll not likely be able to find an Uber crazy enough to drive in this shit.

Tags: Tory Baker Romance
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