A Little Christmas Romance (4 page)

Wriggling beneath him, I try to get away, but can’t. “I have not! You’re the one who went all pervert on me. I was just stating a fact.” I laugh and try to twist, but I can’t roll over and I sure can’t push him up. His legs are pressing against mine, holding them in place, and he’s got one hand next to my head and the other is holding the cup of cocoa.

“Yes, I heard you say it—
I have a big package. Come on, let’s hear you say it again.” In a falsetto voice, he continues, “Chris, I like your package better than anything UPS could ever bring me.” He’s grinning hard, showing a dimple on his cheek that I haven’t seen in forever.

“No, I’m not saying that!”

“Oh, I think you are.” He tilts the mug to the side and I wiggle like a hooked worm beneath him, making the contents slosh. A drop of cocoa jumps out and spills on my throat. It’s tepid, not hot, and not cold. I feel it streak across my throat and puddle behind my ear.

His eyes trace the drop of chocolate around my neck and then flick up to my face, before dipping down to the deep V of my neckline. “I bet you don’t have a change of clothes
, either. A wet chocolate elf sounds kind of kinky.” He winks and tips the cup.

I screech
, thinking that he’s going to pour it on me, but he doesn’t. He rights the mug and laughs. But it takes me too long to notice. Thinking I’d be covered in chocolate, I reached for the other cup. My fingers grab the handle and before he can look up, I dump the beverage on his shoulder.

Yeah,
I didn’t really think about the gravity thing. A waterfall of cocoa spills off of him and into my face. I wriggle and try to get free, but it’s too late. There’s a look in his eyes, and there’s no way in hell that Chris is letting me up without dumping his drink over my head.

His blue eyes glitter with
mirth. “You are an evil elf.” He takes his mug and tips it, spilling the contents down the center of my throat and then lower. He makes a line of cocoa from my collarbone and empties the rest of the cup between my breasts. I’m sopping wet, and sucking in air like I’m drowning, but it’s not because of what he did. It was the way he did it. His eyes traced the movement of the dark liquid across my pale skin.

I can barely breathe
as his gaze dips to my chest and lingers before returning to my face. He watches my lips and it seems like an eternity passes before he lowers his head and leans in close. His warm breath washes over my skin, and the urge to feel his lips on mine shoots through me. Neither of us is smiling, and we’re both breathing hard.

B
linking slowly, Chris looks at me from under those dark lashes. His gaze flicks between my lips and my eyes before he inches closer. His chest is pressed against mine and we’re both soaking wet. He hesitates. “You smell like Swiss Miss.”

“So do you.” I re
ach for him and tangle my fingers in his hair, which pulls him closer. His skin feels so warm against my palm and I can feel his heart racing. Fear surges through me as we linger, nearly lip to lip. I want to kiss him, but I don’t. I want to mean something to him and I’m not sure if I do. Sucking in a shaky breath, I look away. Everything feels stuck in the moment and time doesn’t move. The weight of his body against mine feels so wonderful, so warm. I wish things were different, but they’re not. Chris doesn’t have relationships, and nothing he’s said makes me believe that he’s changed.

The moment shatters and he moves to the side, sitting up on the floor next to me. Pulling his knees
into his chest, Chris looks over at me. I feel his gaze on the side of my face as I sit up and offer him an awkward smile and pull my soaked shirt off my skin, and sniff. “They should make this stuff into perfume.”

Chris extends his long legs and laughs. “Do you know what that would do to the world
’s population if women smelled like candy?”

A grin crosses my lips and I nod. “World domination. Oh yeah. I can see it now.” We both laugh with the
awkward tension of infatuated middle school kids. We sit facing one another, but neither of us looks up.

The fire crackles and Chris sucks in a breath and pushes up off the floor. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I’d like to be warm and dry. Come on. I’ll see if I have a slutty elf costume in my closet.” A wry smile
appears and he looks down at me and wiggles his fingers. Why does he have the ability to shock me over and over again? I sit there with my jaw springing up and down and let out a huff of air, mainly because I don’t know if he’s joking or not. “Suck it up Brooke.”

“Wow.” I put my hand in his and he yanks me up. As he pulls, I say, “Is that what you say to all the girls?”

The words do something to him. The smile slips off his face and his grip tightens on my hand as he pulls too hard. I slam into his chest and blink, surprised by his action. His arms clamp around my waist for half a second before he releases me. Those beautiful eyes meet mine and my stomach sinks. He’s mad.

“Who do you think I am? You keep saying stuff like that, like you have me all figured out, but you don’t. You’re the one who
walked away from me after your mom died. You’re the one who never looked twice at me. Is that the reason? Do you think so little of me? Do you really think that I’d be so calloused that I’d throw you away?” He’s in my face, saying things that I don’t want to hear. Tension lines his arms and shoulders like he wants to strangle something, but he doesn’t. Chris just stands there, close enough to kiss, and madder than I’ve ever seen him.

Is it possible that I
misjudged him? My voice quivers when it comes out, so much so that I don’t sound like me. “No, don’t try to flip this around. You’re a player. You’ve always wanted—”

“I’ve always wanted what, Brooke? Be very careful
, because the next thing you say could land your ass outside in the snow.” His hands ball at his sides and he looks away, like he can’t stand the sight of me.

Why is he offended? How can he act like this? “I don’t understand.”

“That’s the smartest thing you’ve said all night.” He sighs and runs his hands through his hair after he walks away. Chris grabs a couple of towels from a small closet and tosses them at me. “You can use the shower first.”

The towels smack into me and I keep them from tumbling to the floor. Clutching them to my chest, I walk past him to the little bathroom.
Why does he have to do that? Everything was fine, right up until then, and I’m not going to feel bad for saying it. It’s the image he put out there. Why is it my fault for believing him? Screw that. He can go have PMS by himself. I clean up and wrap myself in a towel. The room is steamy from all the hot water and the thought of hiding in there forever sounds really appealing.

I don’t understand him. How can he be offended? And I have looked twice at him. I have thought about him
, and wished for way more than any sane girl would possibly hope for, because he’s Chris. The idea of dealing with another loss right now is too much and that’s what will happen. I’m not stupid and I don’t want to hear that
Last Christmas
song next year and feel like an idiot. Because that would be the biggest mistake I could make—telling him that I care about him, that I always have. Caving in and letting him kiss me would be so nice, but so far from sane that I can’t comprehend the outcome.

I swipe my hand ac
ross the mirror, but it fogs again almost instantly. This isn’t the way I wanted to spend tonight, resisting attraction until we’re both crazy. I should leave, but the snow has only gotten worse since we got here.

There’s a knock and I hear his voice. “I have sweats for you.”

I open the door a crack and he shoves them through. “Thank you.”

“No problem.”

He hands me a pair of gray sweats and leaves me to change. I hold them to my face and inhale deeply knowing that they smell like him. I stand there like that way too long, wishing for things that I shouldn’t want. When I leave the bathroom, Chris slips into the shower, and I head over to the couch. He’s already mopped up the spilled drinks. I flick through channels, but nothing takes my mind off of Chris and the hurt look on his face.

When he
emerges from the shower, his dark hair is tousled and wet. He’s wearing sweatpants, and nothing else. His toned chest has perfectly defined abs that look totally lickable. The thought shocks me, because I don’t think things like that, but holy hell.

“I’ve got to get to
sleep. Long day. Just let me grab a blanket and pillow. You can take my bed.” He disappears into his bedroom before I can say anything. I pad barefoot, following after him, wanting to fix things, but I don’t know how.

Chris’s bedroom is gray with a queen bed topped with a snowman quilt. It makes me laugh.
He looks over his shoulder at me as he grabs one of the pillows. “The bedspread? Yeah, compliments of my mom.” It seems like he’s going to say more, but he doesn’t. His serious look calms his features, and he reaches for the blanket at the foot of the bed. “Good night, Brooke. Merry Christmas.”

Chris is about to walk past me. I have to do
something. I can’t let tonight end this way. He was so happy and I shot it all to hell. I’m not bold, brave, or anything else, but tonight I manage. Just as he’s about to pass me, I step in front of him. There’s an armful of fluffy crap between us.

My gaze fixates on that because it’s too hard to look into his eyes. “I’m sorry I said that before. The truth is,” why is it so hard to say? I feel the words stuck
at the back of my throat, but I can’t make my mouth move. I glance up at him and try again. “The truth is that something about you scares me.”

His head tips to the side slightly and
his stern features soften. The death grip he has on his blankets loosens and he closes his eyes for half a second before tossing the stuff back onto his bed. “So, then, let’s have it.” He holds up both hands and waves his fingertips toward his chest. “Dish it out, Brooke, and let’s just get this over with.”

“What
?”

Annoyance flashes in his eyes
and drips from his voice. “Just tell me why I’m not good enough for you—why you don’t want—”

I have no idea what he’s going to say, but his words are all wrong and I
don’t have any of my own. I can’t tell him how much he means to me or why. It’s all been bottled up inside me forever, so I step toward him and stop thinking. I don’t think about what will happen next, if he’ll laugh and push me away, or if he cares about me. I care about him. I love him and I want him to know it. The time for hiding is over.

Before he can finish his se
ntence, I press my lips to his. For a heart pounding second, there’s no noise, only his perfect mouth on mine. My heart slams into my ribs as someone sucks all the air from my lungs. Every muscle in my body is filled with tension, fearful of the rejection to come. But in that moment, I finally get to know what it feels like to taste his lips and feel his warmth. Part of me is so content, but the sane part is frightened like a chinchilla skittering across the freeway. The only way to finish this is to go straight through the lanes and if I get hit by a truck, so be it.

I
can visualize the eighteen wheeler that’s going to crush me when he pulls away. The moment breaks because he doesn’t kiss me back. Shaking, I pull away and avert my eyes.  I try to explain, “I do want you. I’m sorry I ever made you feel like I didn’t. I don’t…” Oh shit, my throat is tightening fast and warm wet tears are filling my eyes. “I didn’t mean to…”

He’s not moved or said a word, but I can feel his eyes on me. The apathy, the utter
indifference is harder to stomach than rejection. Fuck it. I’m leaving. I don’t care if I have to room with a snowman on the parkway, I can’t stay here. I dart past him, making a beeline for the door, grabbing my purse as I go.

Just when I grab the knob and pull the door open, Chris is there, towering over me. He slap
s the door shut and a blast of snow and freezing air races past my bare feet. I don’t look up. I can’t.

H
is voice fills my ears, but there’s a mental wall in place because I can’t weather what he’s about to say. “Brooke?” The question in his voice catches me by surprise and before I know what I’m doing, I look up at him. “You like me?” It’s such a simple question and there’s so much shock in his voice.

“Of course I like you.”

“You mean, you like me, like me?” His uncertainty is cute.

“I’ve always liked you
, liked you. I kissed you. You didn’t kiss me back. My mistake. Sorry. It won’t happen again.” Because you won’t see me again.

I twist the knob, but Chris throws himself into the door.

He’s looking down at me like he can’t believe it. I might as well be Santa. “You’re not leaving.”

I want to cry. My voice is lost somewhere between a squeaking sound and a hiccup. “I can’t stay. Chris, I’m sorry.”

Gently
, he takes my face in his palms and uses his thumb to wipe away a tear. “Stay with me.” He leans in and presses his lips to mine, softly, lightly.

“I can’t,” I breathe and he does it again. His lips brush against mine and my mind evacuates my skull. My
eyelids become heavy and I find myself watching him through lashes, trying to think of reasons to leave. He’s kissing me. Oh God…

“Stay.” His lips press to
my cheek this time and the sensation is heaven. My hands find his waist and linger at the top of his sweats, right by his beautiful bare skin. I long to feel him under my palms, and slip my hands over his chest, but I don’t. I shouldn’t. Not because I don’t want him. It’s so much more than that.

My voice is a whisper.
“I should go.”

R
emoving his mouth from my cheek, Chris looks me in the eye before offering languishing kisses on the other side. “You should stay.” His breath drifts across my skin and I feel my head tipping to the side.

Raw fear flutters in my stomach. What if I lose him? Can
I tolerate it? Can I survive something that devastating?
No no no
, a small voice whispers at the back of my mind and then it’s snuffed out like a candle in the wind. “But…”

Chris lifts his head to look me in the eye. He strokes my cheek with the back of his hand,
softly caressing me. Watching from under dark lashes, he says, “No buts. No regrets. Not this time. Say you want me. Tell me that I matter to you.” His last sentence lacks the normal confidence he has. How could he not know how I feel about him?

Then it hits me.
I’m the one who left last time. I’m the one who ditched him without a backwards glance, but it wasn’t because I didn’t care about him. I have no words. My mouth hangs open as I try to tell him, but words don’t form.

No regrets. I can’t imagine that life. For once I’m bold, but it’s only on the inside. My eyes stay glued to the floor as I speak. “Of course you matter to me. You matter so much that I’m afraid of what will happen to me if I lose you. I’m a neurotic mess, Chris. I’m not worth your
time or affection. The truth is—I’m crazy about you. I always have been.”

By the time I finish, I can
barely breathe. Did I seriously just say that? I must have, because he scoops me up in his arms and spins in a circle, laughing. When he stops, he puts his forehead against mine. Looking into my eyes, he smiles brighter and more beautiful than I’ve ever seen. “That was the best Christmas present I’ve ever gotten.”

“Really?”

“Yes, by far.” He carries me back to the bed and sets me down on top of the snowman blanket. “Stay. I want you here. I want you so much it hurts.”

I can’t help it. I smile back. “I’ll stay.” When he sits next to me on the bed, I wrap
my arms around his shoulders and pull him back into the pillows.

He wraps his arms around my waist and gives me a slow kiss, the kind that makes your head spin and your heart pound. Every inch of me is electrified, craving his touch. Chris’s hands slide up and down my sides and he pulls me to him. I can feel the warmth from his skin soak through my clothes. The room is much cooler than by the fireplace. We both crawl under the comforter and he pulls me to his chest. My body is plastered against
his seductively smooth skin.

I want to touch his muscles and feel the dips and shapes of his
body, but before I can do that his lips are crashing down on mine. I’m breathless, laying in his arms, kissing him like I can’t stop. And I don’t want to. Chris’s hands move up and down my sides, feeling the curve of my waist and hips. I’m floating, savoring this second, and losing myself in his arms.

His hot mouth tr
ails down my neck, over my shirt, and when he looks up at me, he smiles. “I think you have on too many clothes. They’re detrimental to me kissing you properly.”

“And you intend to kiss me properly?”

“I intend to show you exactly how much I’ve missed you, kiss by kiss. All night long.” His lips curve into a sinful smile.

A girlish giggle, which is t
otally unlike me, slips out. Chris raises his eyebrows and says, “I wonder what other cute noises you make.”

“There’s only one way to find out.”

“All you had to do was ask.” He winks at me and the night continues on like that in whispered tones, and sultry touches until we’re both spent with sleepy smiles on our faces.