The second she leans in, everything changes.
For half a second, I forget where I am.
Forget whosheis.
All I can feel is the heat of her body pressing up against mine.
I pull her closer instinctively, my thumb brushing the edge of her jaw because I can’t help wanting to touch her more.
She makes this tiny sound, a half-surprised grunt that can almost be mistaken as hungry, and it damn near undoes me.
What the hell am I doing?
This is Richard’s kid.
The girl we’ve all heard about in stories since she was knee-high.
The girl who shouldn’t be pressed flushed against me, tempting me to turn her around and pin her to the wall right next to us and show her what I’dreallylike to do to her.
The room is silent around us except for the crackling fireplace and Grant’s old timey Christmas tunes softly playing.
I feel his stare like a physical thing between my shoulder blades, sharp and burning even though I can’t even see it.
Finally, it’s Cal’s voice that cuts through, his tone calm and grounding. “Alright. Break it up, Romeo. Think you’ve shown her enough holiday spirit for today.”
I pull back, my chest heaving a little.
Noelle looks up at me with those plush lips of hers, her hazel eyes wide, looking at me in surprise, maybe?
Or confusion.
Maybe even a little bit of lust, too.
Hell, maybe all three.
Her breathing mirrors mine, uneven and soft.
I open my mouth to say something to her or crack a joke to break up the tension, but the words won’t come.
Every version ofsorryI can think of feels wrong, cheap even, because I’m not sorry at all.
Not even a little bit. Which is probably the most fucked up thing out of all of this.
I take a step back instead, rubbing the back of my neck while trying to find solid ground again.
“Guess I…got a little carried away,” I say, forcing a half-smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes.
The silence that follows weighs heavy over all of us.
Noelle looks between all three of us, her hand brushing her dark curls off her shoulder, fingers twisting around the ends of it in an unconscious, nervous habit.
When I glance over, I catch Cal’s gaze flicking between us, his expression weirdly calm and, more predictably, unreadable.
That’s how it always is with him.
He’s never been one to show exactly what he’s feeling, even if you ask him.
He doesn’t look upset though.
