“You think she’s quitting after the holidays?”
“Why didn’t she tell us first?”
I ignored the whispers and made my way down the hall to where a small forest of fir trees stood, out of everyone’s sight.
Nicholas rounded the corner seconds later, glaring at me.
“This is good enough,” I said, waving my hand. “Tell the photographer to snap us here and tell Mr. Reaves to mind his business.”
“Your engagement is literally my business.” Mr. Reaves stepped in front of us, biting into a cookie. “Why wouldn’t you want the picture in front of the biggest display here, Mrs. Saint?”
Stop calling me that.
“We’re really low-key about ‘us,’” I said, refusing to look at Nicholas. “We don’t do public displays of affection.”
“Yeah, I was marking that down in my file earlier,” he said. “I understand why you two have kept this under wraps for so long, given the work situation, but I find it a bit odd that I received thousands of proof photos of you at various conferences and on trips and such… but no affection. Not so much as a hug.”
“Are you here to direct a Hallmark movie or do your job?” Nicholas asked.
“I’m just saying…” He tapped his chin. “Seems kind of calculated, in a way. You could easily be faking this entire thing—which I’d have to report. And even if it wasn’t true, it would delay the inheritance from being doled out, so?—”
Nicholas grabbed my hand and pulled me down the hall, back to the lobby.
“Can you give us a second to take this picture, please?” He spoke to someone in the crowd I couldn’t see, and the company photographer held up his fingers.
“Okay,” he said. “Merry Christmas to Mr. Saint on the count of one, two?—”
On three, his mouth covered mine.
Not giving me a chance to pull away, he wrapped his arms around my waist—letting his tongue dance with mine as the cameras flashed.
I bit back a moan as his fingers caressed my back, as he bit down hard on my bottom lip, whispering, “You have no idea how thoroughly I would fuck you if you were ever in my bed…”
He dropped one hand from my hips and threaded his fingers through my hair, pulling my head closer, teasing me with his tongue, silently demanding that I open my mouth wider.
I obliged—completely forgetting we had an audience.
He slid his tongue against mine for what felt like forever, making my breath hitch with every slow, teasing stroke.
Ahhhh…My knees began to buckle.
When he finally let me go, my heart thundered so loudly it was the only thing I could hear.
The lobby was silent. Every face stared at us in stunned disbelief.
Somewhere behind us, someone coughed, then whispered, “They’ve definitely been fucking long before this…”
“Mr. Reaves.” Nicholas looked straight at him. “Was that a good enough angle for you?”
“Um, yes, sir…” His cheeks were as red as mine. “I’ll, um… see you at the airport this weekend.”
“See you then.”
Nicholas grabbed my hand, pulling me away from the watching eyes and into the hallway.
“I hope you’re about to apologize,” I said.
“For almost making you come with a kiss?” He smirked. “I don’t think so. I’ll see you at the airport tomorrow—be on time or else.”
