I cleared my throat and remembered that I was a pillar. I didn’t remove my hand, but I did say in a very firm voice, “My hand is cold. I’m just letting you warm it up. That’s all.”
A throaty chuckle. “Good to know, Spanks.”
An embarrassed laugh sputtered out of me at the new nickname. I moved to elbow him in the ribs. Before I knew how it happened he had released my hand, draped his arm around my shoulder and drawn me into his body. My head curled into his chest, and my feet (of their own accord) tangled with his on the coffee table. As naturally as if they’d been designed to do it, our fingers clasped together across his stomach.
I remember Kevin not eating the delicious-looking mac and cheese. I remember him blowing out the candles at the table. But the rest was a blur of the senses. The glow of the Christmas lights flickering across the room, the smell of pine and cinnamon, the feel of my feet resting against Miles, and the way his thumb moved softly against mine. And above all, I remember feeling the strong, sturdy beat of his heart pounding through his chest and the way he tucked me tightly against him.
It was 2 am when I awoke to a fuzzy blue screen and hurriedly uncurled myself from his body. Aghast that I had let myself get that comfortable, I shook his arm to wake him and shoo him out the door. This was getting out of hand. Dang you, Christmas tree. And Frank Sinatra. For the most part, Miles obliged, but he took me by surprise when he turned abruptly at the door as I was following him out, causing my body to run smack into his chest. I made the mistake of looking up, and our eyes held for a long moment.
It happened in slow motion. I blame the fact that I had just woken up. My defense system had a minor relapse. I had spent too much time cuddled up to him, and now my body seemed to crave his touch. My body was the problem. This couldn’t actually bemefalling in like with the enemy across the hallway. His hooded eyes fell to my lips, and he swallowed. He leaned down slowly, as if giving me all the time in the world to resist if I wanted to.
I didn’t.
Soft lips touched mine like a breath exhaled. Instead of stepping back to end the kiss, my hands clutched tightly at his coat as I moved forward into his arms. My fingers found their way to his jawline, feeling the motion and the strength there as his mouth worked a kiss over mine that felt so divine I lost all words. His hands were pressed against my back and in my hair, his light touch causing me to tremor in his arms. Our kiss was slow and sensual. Indulgent. While he wasn’t exactly forbidden, he tasted that way. Sweet with a bite of danger. One that left me pulling away in a confused state of quaking hands and uneven breaths.
He brushed at a strand of my hair that had come loose in our tangle.
“Are you going to freak out about this tomorrow?” he whispered, a hint of a smile on his face.
“It’s starting now, actually.”
The smile turned into a grin. “Better throw all my chips on the table, then.” Before I could resist, he balled the sweater at my waist and pulled me to him again. His hands found my face, drawing me close as he kissed me once more. Where the first kiss had been soft, almost achingly so, this kiss was all heat. A heart-pounding passion licked at the air igniting sparks between us. It was disconcerting the way he so quickly rendered me incapable of doing anything but come alive the moment his lips touched mine. Though I couldn’t help but think I would regret my actions in the morning, my arms wound tight around his neck as he did a very thorough job convincing me of the blurring line between us. He drew back, his brown eyes blazing into mine. He pressed one more satisfying kiss to my lips before he turned and bounded down the stairs. The darkness swallowed him up the farther he moved from the soft, yellow glow of the porch light.
“Goodnight, Olive Wilson.”
TWENTY ONE
“Love? I’m not in love. You’re crazy. And if I ever did fall in love, it sure wouldn’t be with a vampire—even if he is rich beyond my wildest dreams, with gleaming white teeth and the most piercing blue eyes that send chills down my spine. Nope. Not me. You’ve got the wrong girl.”
Velda Stark -My Vampire Billionaire Baby’s Daddy
My new plan totreat Miles as though he had an infectious disease was quickly waylaid the next morning by a knock at my door. It was 8 am on Christmas Eve. I had hardly slept a wink the night before because my mind was too busy replaying the kisses—that should never have happened. The early morning hours did wonders for re-strengthening a person’s resolve. I quickly shimmied out of my unattractive flannel pajamas into a pair of black joggers and a sweatshirt before yanking open the door. To my surprise, I found not Miles, but a small basket filled with cereal, a blueberry muffin, a carton of milk, a pack of my favorite coffee blend, and an orange. Leaning against the house was a stack of freshly cut wood.
A note stuck out of the side of the basket. Glancing all around, knowing Miles was most likely watching me, I couldn’t help but pluck the note and read it.
Spanks,
I have to take all the kids in the lodge sledding at 10 this morning. I’d love for you to come with me if you’re interested. (i.e. You HAVE to say yes. It’s for the blackout). I’ll pick you up in a horse-powered sleigh at 9:45. Please dress like you will be going sledding and having fun.
Love,
Your man with the fine pair of hams (as you well know)
I yelledout to the snow-covered forest, “I don’t like sledding!”
The forest yelled back, “Everybody likes sledding!”
“I don’t like being cold!”
“I’ll take care of that!” This time, the forest voice had a flirtatious edge to it, which I didn’t appreciate. However, my traitorous heart still skipped a beat as I picked up the basket and retreated back into the cabin.
Then, I yanked the door back open and yelled, “Thank you!” I slammed the door before the forest could reply.
Once inside, I paced the floors, snacking on bites of cereal and the most delicious blueberry muffin as I tried to find a way to get out of going sledding. The last time I remembered going sledding, I was probably eleven or twelve. I was the youngest child, and we lived in the country. My sister had outgrown sledding, so I quickly followed suit. And I never really missed it much. I remember my gloves always soaking through, leaving my hands red and chapped. My coat never seemed warm enough. And deep down, I just wasn’t a thrill-seeker. Leave the cold and snow to the heroines in my books.
That being said…even if Iwantedto go, I had no clothes to wear. The best I could do was my thermal underwear underneath my black joggers and a sweatshirt underneath my parka. But the joggers would get soaked through. Miles would take one look at me and hopefully have some pity.
Miles did take one look at me when I stepped out onto the porch at the sound of his snowmobile, but I didn’t find any pity. Immediately, he killed the engine, climbed off the machine, and moved toward me, a determined look on his face.