I wrinkle my nose and look at the timer in his hand. In the context of it being sold at a Christmas market, itmightbe a partridge. “That makes it more random.”
“No, it makes it perfect. Because you aren’t a chicken.” He twists the timer and sets the bird on the coffee table, where it starts clucking away quietly. Then he catches me by the waist and pulls me on top of him. “And maybe we need a bit of Christmas magic.”
I straddle his hips. He curves one hand around my waist and trails the other up my body before curving his fingers around the back of my neck.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs.
I blush. “This isn’t what I thought we’d do with the chicken.”
“But maybe it’s what we should do with the partridge.” He pulls me in and groans at the first press of his lips to the corner of my mouth. “Missed this. Missed you.”
I kiss him back, both of us breathing harder right away. His lips feel so good, so hungry and warm and firm as he works his way into my mouth.
His tongue strokes over mine in a possessive, claiming lick that makes me shiver.
And I should be all in on the kiss, Iam, but?—
“What is it?” He nuzzles my neck.
See? Observant.
“The clucking is distracting,” I admit.
“I like it.”
“Nothing fazes you.”
He grazes the tendon on the side of my neck with his teeth. “I was fazed as fuck when I thought that doctor was flirtingwith you.”
I suck in a breath. “He wasn’t.”
“My lizard brain didn’t know that.”
“I like him, though.”
Garrett growls and rears up, flipping me onto my back, caging me beneath him.
I laugh and press my hands to his chest. “As a colleague.”
“Colleague?” He notches his head to the side. “Are you thinking of moving back home?”
“No.” I say it as quickly as I said it to Dr. Schmidt, but my pulse starts racing anyway.
“Then what do you mean?” He climbs off me, suddenly all serious.
The partridge chicken clucks ominously. We’re five minutes into a ninety minute window and we’re already done kissing.
“Don’t pull away,” he says, his voice low and steady, his gaze unwavering. “Stay in this moment with me.”
I try to take a deep breath and it hurts.
“Hey, hey…” He comes back, taking my hands in his. “Be brave. You can tell me anything, Roar.”
I shake my head. Just because he’s willing to hear anything doesn’t mean I can say it out loud.
He exhales, frustrated, but he doesn’t let go of my hands.
I sag, my eyes dropping to the chicken clucking away on the coffee table. I can feel him following my gaze.
