His pupils dilate, dark eating away at the blue. "Holly." It comes out rough, almost a growl.
Oh.
Oh wow.
That's... that's a sound I'd like to hear again. Preferably on repeat. Maybe as my new ringtone.
"Yes?" I aim for innocent, but it's hard to pull off when you're straddling a wild animal. Or Chance.
His free hand slides into my hair, tilting my head back. "Last chance to tap out."
I actually laugh at that, though it comes out breathier than intended. "Seriously? After all this time, you think I'm backing down now? I literally wrote Christmas porn about your candy cane, Chance. I think we're a little past?—"
His mouth crashes into mine, swallowing whatever brilliant thing I was about to say. Probably for the best. I'm pretty sure I was about to make another North Pole joke and?—
Oh.
OH.
Never mind. Not thinking anymore. Not doing anything except feeling his lips on mine, his hands in my hair, and they way he’s thrusting his hips into me.
Starting slow, almost careful, he maps my mouth with his. But when I arch into him, fingers curling into his shirt, something snaps.
Harder this time, his mouth devours, like he's trying to memorize my taste. Like he knows what he's about to say. His hands span my ribcage, thumbs brushing just beneath the underwire of my bra, and I shiver.
"When we leave here..." he manages between kisses, and something in his voice makes my heart stutter. His hands frame my face, thumbs brushing my cheekbones like I'm something precious. "We can't..."
"Don't." I roll my hips again, swallowing his groan. "Don't ruin this."
He pulls back, resting his forehead against mine. His breathing is as ragged as mine, but there's something else in his eyes. Something that looks terrifyingly like tenderness.
"If I touch you, if I look at you the way I want to look at you..." He shakes his head. His hands tighten on my waist. "I won't let anything jeopardize what you're building.”
The fierce protectiveness in his voice steals my breath more than any kiss. Because this isn't just about keeping our cover, this is about him putting me first. Putting my dreams first.
"So we'll be professional." I hate how thick my voice sounds, how he can see right through me. "Hands-off policy."
The fierce protectiveness in his voice steals my breath more than any kiss. Because this isn't just about keeping our cover, this is about him putting me first.
Putting my dreams first.
"Hands off," he agrees, though his thumbs are still tracing maddening patterns on my skin like he can't quite make himself stop touching me yet. Like he's trying to memorize how I feel under his hands. "Starting the second we walk out that door. Because you deserve to win this, Holly. You deserve everything."
The way he says it—like it's the simplest truth, like he'd move mountains just to see me succeed—makes my chest ache. Because no one's ever believed in me like this. No one's ever looked at me the way he is right now, like I'm simultaneously the strongest and most precious thing he's ever seen.
"Everything?" I whisper, and hate how vulnerable I sound.
"Everything." He catches my chin, making sure I meet his eyes. "And I'll spend however long it takes proving that to you. Starting with watching you crush this presentation."
I lean in, pressing my forehead to his. "Even if it means pretending you hate me?"
"Even then." His voice roughens. "Though for the record? Hardest damn act I've ever had to pull off."
‘Thank you.” The word is barely a whisper. Probably the quietest I’ve ever been in my life.
“You’re welcome.” He punctuates the word with a gentle kiss to the corner of my mouth, just like the one that devastated me in all the best ways, only on the opposite side.
“Let me ask you something?" His thumb traces my bottom lip again. Like he can’t stop going back to continue that barest touch—his touch so gentle it makes my chest ache.
