“Shit,” he breathed, his voice rough in a way that sent heat pooling in my stomach.
“What?” I asked, though I was having trouble forming coherent thoughts with him standing so close. He smelled like winter air and something distinctly masculine that made me want to bury my face in his neck.
“I never made another reservation for tonight.”
The admission made me giggle, partly from nerves and partly because the practical concern seemed so mundane after the kiss we’d just shared. “The room is still yours. You never actually checked out, remember? I had Stacy charge your card—the normal rate.”
“But it’s all the way over there,” he said in a husky tone. There was something in his voice that made it clear he wasn’t really talking about the inconvenience of walking to his room.
The implication hung in the air between us. I felt my cheeks warm despite the cold. For a moment, I was seriously tempted to invite him into my apartment. The evening had been magical, he’d been wonderful with me during my emotional moment, and the kiss had been…
Well, the kiss had been the kind that made a woman forget about practical considerations and responsible decision-making.
But even as every nerve ending in my body was urging me to throw caution to the wind, some small voice of reason in the back of my mind was reminding me that I barely knew this man. Yes, he was charming and gorgeous. But he was also a wealthy stranger who’d shown up out of nowhere and would probably disappear just as suddenly.
I wasn’t the kind of woman who made impulsive decisions about men, no matter how good they were at kissing. And I had a feeling he was exactly the kind of man that made those kinds of decisions. He was a player. The realization was actually freeing. I didn’t have to worry about a girlfriend back home.
Instead of stepping aside to let him into my apartment, I kissed him again—just once, quick and soft—then stepped back and shook my head.
“I’m a country girl, Mr. Bancroft,” I said, trying to keep my voice light even though my heart was racing. “It’s going to take a lot more than one good kiss to trick me into letting you into my bed.”
“Bed?” he asked with mock innocence, though his eyes were dancing with mischief. “I just wanted a nightcap.”
“Uh-huh,” I said, not buying his innocent act for a second. “Sure, you did. Goodnight, Kent. Thank you for protecting my body on the treacherous journey across the driveway.”
I stepped through my doorway and closed the door gently but firmly, leaving him standing on my little porch. Then I leaned back against the door, pressing my hand to my racing heart and grinning like an absolute idiot.
I was in trouble. Big, serious, heart-stopping trouble.
Because that kiss had been everything I hoped it would be and more. And the way Kent had looked at me, the way he’d held me earlier in the gazebo, and the way he’d made me feel like I mattered was all adding up to feelings that were far more complicated than they should be for someone I’d known for less than two days.
Through the door, I could hear his footsteps walking downstairs. Part of me wanted to open the door and call him back. I wanted to throw my usual caution to the wind and see where the evening might lead.
I touched my lips, still tingling from his kiss, and wondered what I was getting myself into.
Whatever it was, I had a feeling there was no going back now.
CHAPTER 18
KENT
Iwas in trouble.
I walked back up to the lodge with my hands shoved deep in my pockets to ward off the cold, but my chest was warm, and my lips were still tingling from Sylvie’s kiss. Damn. What even was that? I’d kissed plenty of women before, but nothing had ever felt quite like that moment under the mistletoe—soft and electric and significant in a way I couldn’t begin to process.
There wasn’t even any tongue. It was just good. Really good. Like it left me semi-hard. I wasn’t used to being told no, but I was kind of glad she didn’t let me in her room. If she had, we would have had sex. I knew it would be amazing sex, but then what? One and done? I didn’t think I could do that. And if I stayed the week on the property, was I just not supposed to touch her?
“Fuck that.”
And that meant I would be fucking her more than once. And that was the problem. That was where things got tricky because that would be edging into relationship territory and I was definitely not going to do that. So yes, I wanted to fuck her, but I was glad we didn’t.
Good on her.
I would thank her in the morning. She saved me from myself.
I was so lost in replaying every second of the encounter that I nearly jumped out of my skin when a figure emerged from Santa’s cabin. My first thought was bear. Shit. I pretended to be all big and bad, but could I really take on a bear?
Fuck!
