I was almost afraid to look at him, but he tilted my face up to meet his with two fingers under my chin. Then he swept back my hair in a sudden, tender gesture and both of us froze.
“I wasn’t either.”
He kissed me, long and hard.
The hot chocolate mugs were forgotten as he pulled off my robe and the two of us stretched out on the fur blanket, tangling around each other in sweet, unrestrained delight.
The entire next day, I’d be surprised if I wore even a stitch of clothes. No matter what we did, it was like Tom and I couldn’t get enough of each other. If he had any sentimental feelings about the house, they didn’t stretch so far as to declare any part of it an ‘off-limits zone.’ We had sex on the counter tops, on the floor, on the porch (that was very cold), on the sofa. Even one time half-crushed inside a little linen closet as I went to get some pillows for us to sleep. No matter where we went or what we were doing, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other.
I was horribly surprised, then, to find him packing up the car when I wandered down the stairs Sunday night.
“Hey,” I mumbled sleepily, still in a sex coma. “What are you doing?”
He rushed in to meet me, flushed pink with the cold. “We’ve got to hit the road, kiddo.”
I glanced at the clock. “Now? I thought—”
“Tomorrow’s Christmas, Jenna.” He said this as if it answered everything.
And in a way, I guessed it did. Of course, he would have plans on Christmas. Probably doing the whole family dinner/gift-exchange thing. I was silly not to have realized...
“Of course,” I said softly. “Let me just throw on some clothes and I’m good to go.”
“Well not so fast,” he grabbed my hips mischievously, bending me over slightly as he anchored himself behind, “I think we can spare another few minutes.”
But for the first time all weekend, I wasn’t in the mood. I gave a forced laugh and straightened up, trying to hide the tension on my face as I slipped past him into the cottage.
“No you’re right, we should probably hit the road.”
Just a few minutes later, we were sailing out of the trees and heading back to the city. The air in the car seemed to get colder the closer we got back home. There were no suicidal geese this time, no distractions. We made it back in just a little over an hour, and before I knew it, I was standing back on my curb, suitcase in hand.
“So,” he asked with a small grin, “did I convince you? Do you love Christmas?”
I forced myself to smile, unwilling to let it all come to an end. “Not quite yet...but I think it’s safe to say I’m definitely getting there.”
“Is that so?” He climbed back into his car and revved the engine, flashing me the most peculiar look as he did. “Then I guess I still have some more work to do...”
Chapter 11
I woke up to sleigh bells.
Yes, you heard me correctly.
Sleigh bells.
The night had only gone downhill after Tom dropped me off. Rose, surprised to see me back so soon, was literally in the throes with some guy from marketing on the couch. She graciously kicked him out when it became clear that I needed help, and sat up with me instead, drinking vodka on the floor (I decided to avoid the couch).
Strangely enough, it wasn’t the sudden promise that I was going back to work, never to kiss Tom Larchwood again, that had me so upset. It wasn’t the fact that my beautiful weekend had come to an end—banished forever into the deepest recesses of my mind.
It was that look he had given me before he drove away.
I had no idea what that look meant. No idea if he was as torn up as me, or if he was glad to be rid of the sexual tension so he could finally get back to work.
The answer was no clearer to me looking at it from the bad side of a bottle of vodka.
And then...sleigh bells.
What the fuck?
I pulled open my window and leaned outside, only to crawl back into bed a second later. I was dreaming. There was no other explanation.
A snowball hit my window, and I pulled the covers over my head with a grimace. Didn’t pranksters have anything better to do on Christmas?
The next second, my phone buzzed.
I groped around on my bedside table, groggy with the after effects of the booze, and held it up to my face.