“That’s not better.”
“I don’t care.” And I didn’t. For the first time in my carefully controlled, parent-approved, anxiety-managed life, I didn’t care about the rules or the consequences or what I should do.
I only cared about what I wanted. And I wanted Eli Shepard to kiss me.
“Kiss me,” I said, my voice steady and sure. “Please.”
His jaw tightened. His hands flexed on the armrests. I watched him wage one final battle with himself—professionalism, propriety, all the reasons this was wrong.
Then something in him snapped.
He stood in one fluid motion, the chair rolling backward. Suddenly he was right there, inches away, towering over me. Close enough that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. Close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off his body.
“You’re sure?” His voice was rough, strained.
“Yes.”
His hand came up slowly—so slowly I could’ve stopped him if I wanted to. But I didn’t want to. I’d never wanted anything less than I wanted to stop this.
His palm cupped my jaw, thumb brushing across my cheekbone. The touch was gentle, reverent, nothing like the aggressive grab from my one and only kiss.
“Gabriella,” he breathed.
And then he lowered his head toward mine.
4
ELI
Iwas going to hell for this.
That was my last coherent thought before my lips touched hers, and then there was nothing. Nothing but the soft gasp Gabriella made, the way her body swayed toward mine, and the taste of her—sweet and spicy from the Thai food, with something underneath that was justher.
I’d meant to start slow. Gentle. Show her what I’d described—the testing, the learning, the careful exploration. But the second our mouths met, slow became impossible.
She made a sound low in her throat, and something primal in me responded. My hand slid from her jaw into her hair—tinsel and all—and I angled her head, deepening the kiss. She opened for me immediately—no hesitation, no uncertainty. Just pure, unfiltered response.
This was nothing like I’d expected.
I’d kissed plenty of women. Some I’d cared about, some I hadn’t. Some had been good, some forgettable. But this—this—was something else entirely. Something that made my chest tight and my pulse roar in my ears and my entire world narrow to the point where our bodies connected.
She tasted like coming home.
The thought should’ve terrified me. Instead, I pulled her closer, my other hand finding her waist, fingers splaying across the soft fabric of her sweater.
She was all curves and warmth against me, and I wanted more. Wanted everything.
Her hands had been hanging at her sides, tentative, like she wasn’t sure what to do with them. But now—god, now—they came up to rest on my chest, palms flat against the knit of my sweater. I could feel the heat of them even through the fabric, could feel the slight tremor in her fingers.
I gentled the kiss, remembering what I’d told her.A conversation.I needed to slow down, needed to give her space to?—
Gabriella’s fingers curled into my sweater, bunching the fabric in her fists. Okay then.
I walked her backward until her hips hit the edge of the conference table, and she gasped against my mouth. Not in protest—in surprise. Inwant. I could feel it in the way she arched into me, in the way her grip tightened.
“Eli.”
My name on her lips was the best sound I’d ever heard. I broke the kiss long enough to look at her—really look. Her eyes were dark and glazed, her lips swollen and pink. The tinsel in her hair caught the light, making her look like some kind of Christmas gift I’d never known I wanted.
