Never you.
But even my guilt isn’t pulling me away.
Ella goes to tap her temple, forgetting she’s holding a s’more, and slaps chocolate spread all over her cheek.
My laugh is quiet at first, and she gapes at me before her lips curl into a smile. Then, I can’t stop. She flushes, still smiling, as I laugh and pick up a kitchen towel, running it under water.
“You’re always such a fucking mess,” I say as I wipe away the chocolate. With every glide of the cloth against her skin, our gazes remain locked, and my skin heats. My heart claws at my rib cage to get out.
She swallows, a slow dip of her throat, and whispers, “Did you get it all?”
“I think so.”
Another heavy swallow. “Maybe you should check.”
“Check?” I ask, knowing what she means, and wishing one of us had the courage to just fucking say it.
But maybe it’s good that we don’t. Maybe that will bring us hurtling back to reality, and I don’t want that.
Not yet.
So, I cup her cheek and tilt her head up.
Her eyes flutter closed as I kiss her cheek softly.
The contact is so fucking electric that for a moment I stop breathing. It’s a rush unlike anything I’ve felt, and all I’m doing is kissing the cheek of a woman I totally fucking despise.
I kiss the same spot again, my tongue gently pressing against her skin, and she draws in a breath. She tastes likechocolate, like the worst fucking decision I’ve ever made, but I can’t stop.
My lips move to her jaw—soft, small, delicate kisses that I fool myself into thinking don’t count as anything intimate. As long as I don’t kiss her mouth. As long as our lips don’t meet, it’s fine, right?
Then I’m nibbling her ear. Soft skin between my teeth. Her hair smells like vanilla. And her hands are on my chest, breathy sighs warming my skin as she pulls me closer.
“Gable?”
I blink, snapping back to the moment, to Ella staring at me, looking puzzled, the marshmallow still on her lip. “Yeah?”
“I’ve been talking for like, five minutes.”
Yes, and I’ve been fantasizing, apparently.
I clear my throat and take out two mugs before pouring us both coffees. “You know I never listen to you.”
She rolls her eyes. “Do you want s’mores or not?” I nod, and when she turns her back, I bite my knuckles and try to rewire my fucking brain.
The woman is in Big Bird pajamas, for fuck’s sake.
And I’ve never wanted anyone more.
“Oh.” She taps my chest. “Merry Christmas, by the way.”
I grunt my response and gulp down coffee, ignoring the tingling skin where she touched me.
“I was thinking we should’ve got a tree,” she says, sipping her coffee and staring at the empty living room.
“Bit late, Gibson.”
She sighs. “I know, but it was bugging me last night. We don’t really have an excuse, do we? It’s not like we’re busy.” She gestures at the empty space where a tree would look perfect. “We’re being miserable on our own time.” Sheshrugs. “Anyway, I’m gonna go catch up on writing. I went to bed early last night and now my brain is buzzing.” She bumps her hip against mine and heads up the stairs.
