He addressed her in a rumble that came from deep in his chest. “Tell me, Rosie Gonzalez. What do you want from Santa?”
She licked her lips, tasting cinnamon sugar from one of the cookies. She could have said she wanted a raise at work. A new car. A winning lottery ticket. But instead, she spoke with her heart. “I…I want you to kiss me.”
His eyes widened. He pushed a stray wisp of hair behind her ear. “Are you sure about that?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“First, I want to see you with your hair down,” he said.
With shaky hands, she undid the elastic and bobby pins holding her bun in place and let it cascade to her shoulders.
He cupped her face gently, smoothing his calloused palms over her cheeks. The first brush of his lips was whisper-soft, like the touch of a butterfly’s wings. Wanting more, she whimpered in protest. He deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping against hers, and she tasted hot chocolate and peppermint, which was exactly how Santa should taste. With a groan, she wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing him closer. Every inch of her body was alight, heat and desire flooding through her. For all the times she’d pined for Drew, she’d never imagined kissing him would feel this glorious.
He tangled his hands in her hair, making her whimper again as the friction sent a bolt of need straight to her core. She arched her neck, allowing him to place soft kisses on the curve of her throat. And then he was claiming her lips again, with such passion she almost forgot to breathe. She was so lost in his touch and taste that she didn’t hear the door open until it was too late. She pulled away hastily, only to see Charlie standing in the doorway, holding a pizza box and a two-liter bottle of Diet Coke.
“Um…I didn’t mean to interrupt, but your pizza arrived.” Charlie made no attempt to hide her shit-eating grin. She set their order on one of the tables. “I’ll leave you to it.”
Hoping to regain a little self-control, Rosie tucked her hair behind her ears. By now, her cheeks were so warm they probably matched the red in Drew’s suit.
“Thanks, Charlie,” she said.
“No problem. But just FYI, the boss man’s still around. He stopped by the front desk ten minutes ago to tell me a few business associates would be arriving later tonight. He wanted to make sure they got the VIP treatment.”
Rosie expelled a ragged breath. Preston would never approve of her sitting on Santa’s lap and making out with him like a teenager. “Thanks for the heads-up.”
“Sure. Have a nice night.”
After Charlie left, a wave of regret washed over Rosie. No matter how much she’d enjoyed kissing Drew, she shouldn’t have done it. Not if she wanted to maintain their boundaries. “Um…maybe we should eat? Before the pizza gets cold?”
“Yeah…sorry if I got carried away.”
“Don’t be. I’m the one who suggested it.”
He gave her a wry smile. “It was the suit, wasn’t it?”
No. It was you.But she couldn’t admit it. If she told him how much she desired him, she might scare him away. This whole fake-dating scheme was based on the notion they could keep things platonic.
She eased off his lap. “Definitely the suit. I blame Selena for recommending those steamy romances.”
His smile vanished so quickly that she feared she’d hurt his feelings. Should she have told him how she really felt?
But then he gave a quick chuckle. “It’s okay. I do make a damn good Santa. But we probably shouldn’t blur the lines, not when this relationship has a definite end date.”
“Right. We both have too much to deal with.”
Thank God they were in agreement. This way, no one would get hurt.
So why did her heart feel like it was already breaking?
Twelve
While Rosie wentto get paper plates, cups, and napkins, Drew took off his Santa coat and hung it on the back of a chair. Since it was dry-clean only, he couldn’t risk getting tomato sauce on it. And for both their sakes, it was time he stopped being Santa and went back to being plain old Drew.
It was the suit, wasn’t it?
He’d asked it as a joke, but when Rosie confirmed it, her words were like a shot of ice water through his veins. Her bold request for a kiss had been spurred on by the fantasy of kissing a sexy Santa. Nothing more.
As he opened the pizza box, the savory smells made his mouth water. He’d ordered his favorite kind, laden with mushrooms, roasted red peppers, artichoke hearts, eggplant, and black olives. They each loaded a couple of slices onto their plates and began eating, only to lapse into a painful silence. Gone was the easy camaraderie they’d shared over the past month.
