“You really drink hot chocolate?” I ask. “That’s so…”
He raises a brow. “What? Girlie?”
“I was going to say childish.”
“I prefer the term whimsical myself.”
“I suppose it is officially Christmas Eve.”
“Is that why you left me to carry the whimsy load all by myself?” he says, stirring the whipped cream into his cup withthe candy cane tucked into the edge. He nods at my cup. “Black coffee? You couldn’t even get a peppermint latte?”
“I could have, but then I’d ruin your fun,” I say, bumping his knee with mine under the table. “Whimsy looks so much better on you.”
He takes a sip and sets his cup down, leaving his top lip edged with just a trace of whipped cream. The sip of coffee I was taking becomes a gulp, and I burn the fuck out of my throat. I can’t stop staring at his mouth.
Duke smiles. “What?”
“Nothing,” I say, quickly taking another sip of the scalding, bitter coffee.
“Come on,” he says, pushing my knee with his. “What is it?”
“You—you have—” I want to reach across the table and wipe it off just to touch his soft lips one more time, or better yet, lean across and drag my tongue across them. Instead, I swipe my thumb across upper lip to show him. Now he’s the one staring at my mouth.
Fuck. Why did I want coffee when I could have had that?
“So, what were we talking about?” I ask after he dabs his mouth with a napkin.
Whatever he says, I don’t hear it, because he takes another sip, and my brain short circuits when he runs his tongue along the seam of his lips, skimming off the white foam this time.
I shift in my chair, tugging at the knees of my jeans, which are getting awfully tight again. “I’m going to need a cigarette after watching you drink that.”
“Oh yeah?” he asks, giving me a wicked grin. “Why’s that?”
“I think you know why.”
He loops his finger through the hook on the candy cane, picks it up, and slides the entire straight part into his mouth, then slowly drags it out, his plush lips gripping the shaft and sucking off every trace of whipped cream. Then he gives me his smuggest smile. “What about now?”
“Now you’re just being a dick,” I say when I’m done trying not to choke on my own tongue.
“Don’t you mean a candy cane?” He blinks at me with those big puppy dog eyes, a picture of innocence.
“Okay, that’s it,” I say, and push away from the table and go back to the counter. “Can we get those bagels to go?”
When they hand them out, we step out into the cold morning.
“We’re going to my hotel now,” I say. “And I’m going to fuck you.”
“No,” Duke says, his dark eyes flecked with gold like sparks in a night sky. “We’re going to my apartment.”
He looks at me like he’s waiting for me to argue. But I’m done playing this little game. I’m going with my gut—or my dick—and whatever happens after that, happens.
I gesture for him to go ahead. “Lead the way, Candy Cane.”
six
Duke Dolce
We walk back to my place, eating our bagel sandwiches on the way. We talk a little, laugh a little, but there’s a dark undercurrent of lust in all of it, heat radiating through our words, our laughter, our looks and the seemingly casual touches that aren’t casual at all. He was definitely flirting with me all night, though I couldn’t believe it. Now that he’s made his intentions clear, there’s no more questions left. We’re really doing this.
