Christmas Kisses (4 page)

I pull my foot back and hiss at him, still blushing madly. “It was nothing.”

“Nothing wouldn’t make your face bu
rn, Connelly.
Come on, spill.” Ryan
’s grinning now and I know he wo
n’t let it go.

I need a lie. I need to come up with something, but I’ve got nothing. His blue eyes are locked on my face. I feel them burning a hole, waiting for me to look up.
Ryan’s
hand reaches across the table and
lays
on top of mine. He rubs his thumb over the back of my hand in slow circles. My heart nearly explodes. Between that devastatingly evil smirk on his face,
and the light touch of his fingers, my entire body is rebelling.

My brain says we should just tell him.

My heart thinks we should just tell him.

My body thinks we should just take the syrup over there, pour it over his
sexy
body, and lick him.

I salivate, and blink at him. God, does he know how crazy I am?
“Nothing, I swear.” I lie. I suck at lying. “The door opened and cold air crept up my legs, okay? I blushed because I was thinking that if I wore tights, that wouldn’t have happened.”

He glances under the table at my boots and then around the edge at my thighs. The dress sits mid
-
t
h
igh when I stand, and it’s a little short when I
sit. I flush again, and kick him
. Ryan grins at me. “Y
ou are wearing tights.”

“They’re thigh highs.
And t
hanks for asking about my
lingerie
.
” I see his expression change and questions fill his eyes.
I head them off by saying, “
Yes,
I’m wearing a garter belt. Yes, they’re attached
, so stop asking.”

His jaw drops. Ryan stares at me like he’s never seen me before. Those blue eyes seem so soft, so seductive. I don’t realize what I’ve done until he starts talking. “Are you trying to kill me? A guy only has so much self
-
control, Holly, and holy shit,” he breathes hard, pushing his hair out of his eyes with both hands, “you’re testing the hell out of mine.” He looks at me like I should take it back, but I don’t know what I’ve done wrong.

We used to talk about anything and everything. Tights
are
not sexy and the top made a tummy roll under this dress. I chose the thigh highs without thinking about it. They always slid
e
down, so I added the ga
r
ters. I realize I’ve gotten to him. I’m not that slow—okay, I am that slow—but wh
y let it go to waste?
Besides, he teased me first.

I rub my foot against his. I lean forward, and the table presses against my breasts. I know he can see down my top. My hair falls forward
, blocking most of my cleavage
by the time his eyes drift there. When I speak,
Ryan
looks up at me like he’s drowning, and wonders if I’m here to rescue him or push him under.

I muster my sultry voice,
the one
I can only do when I’m goofing
aro
und, and say, “They all match—t
he whole
set—
bra, panties, and garters. They’ve even got little holly swags on them with a little bell right here.” I press the spot between my breasts. A little jingle noise catches his ear and his mouth falls open.

He’s playing, flirting with me, and I love it. We’ve always fli
rt
ed like this. Ryan presses his hand to his chest and leans back in the booth. When he sits up, his face is dead serious. “I need a matching pair.”

“Bra?”
I ask, laughing.

He shakes his head, “No, panties. I love me some women’s panties.” He
winks at me
and
his straight face curves into a full smile.

“You only
love panties when they hit
your
floor,” I counter and shake my head. “And somehow, I think if
you had a bell on your
boxers, that
a pack of
reindeers
would follow you around
,
begging for carrots
.”

Ryan had his coffee to his lips and laughed just before taking a sip. He lowers the cup and points at me while wiping his mouth, “That was dangerous, Connelly. You almost ruined that pretty dress.” He grins at me.

“That’s the only way you’ll get it off of me.” The waiter walks by and I flag him down, saying, “No more refills for him.” The waiter nods and keeps walking.
Laughter
is bubbling inside of me, soaring past the sane giggle level.

Ryan
chortles
and grabs hold of my hands, pulling me into the table
, like literally plastering me against the side
. My bre
asts strain against my
neckline because of the way he pulls my arms. I’m momentarily mortified,
but he doesn’t look.
His crystal clear eyes lock with mine and dance with mirth.
I
grin, while I honk-laugh (which is the most god-awful sound e
ver
)
and pull back. Ryan’s wicked smile becomes incredibly sexy. I have no idea what I’m doing or where I want things to end, but it feels right.
I don’t know what comes next, but I don’t want to let go of his hands. I feel his grip on my arms lo
o
sen, but I don’t sit back. I don’t let go. Where his fingers
touch my
bare
arms, I feel pin
pricks of electricity tingling warmly
beneath my skin. It’s like
magic.

Everything about him is captivating, beyond rea
son, beyond comprehension. If Ryan
knew how he mak
e
s
me feel, he could use that
power whenever he wanted. There’s no way to refuse him when he’s like this. It’s like he’s the sun, and although I know I’ll never survive, I want
to dive straight into him
. I want to feel his touch, see his smile, and hear his voice. It doesn’t matter that I’ll burn up in the process. There’s no one else like him.

I know. I’ve looked.

The waiter clears his throat and we release each other. Grinning, I sink back into the booth, smiling at Ryan.

“Your order.”
The waiter puts the
plates in front of us and ask
s, “Will there be anything else?” Ryan shakes his head and the waiter leaves. When I pop a fry in my mouth, Ryan looks up at me.

“I missed having you around, Holly.”

CHAPTER

4

HOLLY

His words slice through me like little blades. I smile at him and nod. I suck at receiving compliments, but that really wasn’t one. Was it? I mean, Ryan says things like that and then
keeps going. He acts like it does
n’t mean anything, so I never assume it does. The thing is, those little words stick with me. He’s said things like that before, words that pierced through all my armor and sunk into my heart.
But
w
hen I expect him to
act, to do something more, Ryan doesn’t. He shirks it off like he didn’t mean anything by it. He could say that he
wants to have sex with me and then make it sound like an off the cuff comment.

Maybe I
’
m mental? Maybe I make
too much out of nothing, but Ry
an’s words always sound charged. It
’
s like static electricity is building between us and one day we’ll touch
,
and both combust into a
pile of ashes—or lust-
induced insanity. The latter sounds preferable. I could be down with that
,
as long as Ryan was the other
nutjob
that I got to get down with.

My mind is wandering, having crazy conversations by itself. Ryan says something. When I don’t answer he leans forward and his dark brows lift into his hairline. “Well?”

“Hmmm?
Well, what?”

“Do you ever pay attention?” He stabs his chicken with his fork and eats it like he’s starving.

My gaze strays to his lips and I tear it away, trying to use what little common sense I have left. “No.” I smile.

He laughs. “At least you’re honest. I could tell you that I zone out every four seconds
,
because I’m thinking about sex, but I’ll be damned if I ever figure out what has you so distracted.”

I snort, and stab a fry with my fork. I wave it in the air as I speak. “That, my friend, will be a secret that I take with me to my cold, dark grave.” I emphasize the grave part by pointing my fork at him, and the fry
falls off the end and plops down, into his drink.

His eyes lift slowly to meet mine. “You ruined my soda.”

“That wasn’t me.” I
lie and
don’t look at him. A laugh bubbles up inside of me. This feels like old times, the way things were before I left.

“What
wasn’t
you?” I cock my head at him, confused.
Did he seriously forget what we were talking about? Then he grins at me,
“Sorry, that was the four second point. What were you saying?”

I laugh and want to shove his hand, but I don’t reach for him. Instead, I
smile
, saying, “Take a drink and try to remember.”

“Ah, the French fry incident of ’12. Yeah…” he dips his fingers into his glass and lifts the fry out. It’s
soggy and dripping with Coke. “To make it up to me, I think you should either…” he pauses considering his options. His blue gaze flicks between his wet fry and my face. “Wear this as a
monobrow
for the rest of the night, or eat it.”

I laugh at him. He’s not serious. Ryan’s never serious. I call his bluff, mostly to see what he’ll do. “I’ll eat it.”

He blinks at me like he heard me wrong, “What? You will?”

I nod and lean forward opening my mouth, thinking that there’s no way he’ll actually feed my a soda filled fry. Yeah, I was wrong. A wicked grin slips across Ryan’s lips as he leans closer, extending his hand toward my mouth. I think about slapping my mouth shut and jerking away, but
with
my luck I’ll have the soda-
fry down my top.

This is
meant to be silly. It’s meant to be disgusting, to make me cringe and squeal, but I don’t. For som
e reason this feel
s
seductive. Ryan’
s fingers brush my bottom lip as he places the fry on my
tongue
. It’s cold and salty sweet. His fingers linger,
and
his thumb slips across my bottom lip. Ryan’s gaze is on my mouth. He doesn’t notice anything else. I shiver
as he touches me, even though his touch
sends a jolt of heat coursing through my veins. I close my mouth on his finger, licking the salt and soda
from
the tip. Ryan sucks in a breath and
pulls away slowly
.

I’m completely lost in his gaze, totally ignoring the nasty fry in my mouth. Somehow, Ryan made it
sexual. How does he do that? It’s like every touch, every time
,
ends this way. I can’t stand it and I break the gaze, munching the fry.

I say between chomps, “This is really gross. You should try one.” I joke, but to my surprise, he does.

Ryan takes a fry from my plate, dunks it in my soda, and then eats it. I feel my nose crinkle.
“You’re right. It’s totally disgusting.” He takes a huge swallow of soda to wash it down. He glances up at me, clearing his throat.
“Fun times.”

“You know it.”

Things are getting awkward again. Why does that happen? We can sit together for hours, and then he does this. I don’t know what happens, but it’s like he disconnects and wants to run. But he doesn’t. He stays with me,
even though he’d clearly rather
be
somewhere else. I take this as our cue to leave. I wave for the check. “Come
on,
let’s get out of here before it’s midnight. Although I have my own life 2,000 miles away, my parents still think I need a curfew when I’m home.”

“Curfew?
” he asks, wrinkling his nose and laughing.
“
What are you, sixteen?”

“Apparently.”
I throw my part of the bill down on the table and start to walk out.

Ryan grabs my arm.
“Hey cowgirl, slow down.
‘
Round these parts pe
ople pay at the cash register.”
I forgot. People throw money on the table and leave in Texas. My face reddens and I curse myself for looking so stupid, but Ryan just smiles. His
gaze flicks between my face and the cashier. “Come on, little lady.”

“Oh, my God.
Stop with
the John Wayne voice. You sound
like
Homer Simpson doing a cowboy impression.” I cut my gaze to his
.

Ryan
reaches for my hand and knits our fingers together, and then twists me toward h
im. “Which accent do you prefer?
Tell me truly. New York or that Texas
twang
?” He’s standing above me, despite my heels.

My heart thumps against my ribs. That look could make me—well, never
mind what it could do—
the point is that this wasn’t the best place to be for that kind of thing. I answer quickly, pulling my hands away as I do so, “New York. There’s something more possessive about it.”

We pay the cashier. Actually, Ryan pays the cashier and shoves my money back toward me. “I’ll pay. You’re giving me a ride in that tank. God knows
,
I’ll owe you $120 bucks
in gas
by the time we get home.”

“Fine,” I huff, but I don’t like it.

The cashier is a middle-aged woman. She grins at me, but averts her eyes quickly, like she knows something I don’t. I march outside with my
bare
arms and tiny dress. Ryan comes up behind me and puts his jacket over my shoulders. “
Ry
, it’s too cold. Really, I’m fine. Keep it.” I turn to give it to him, but he walks past me, ignoring my outstretched arm. “Don’t make me drop it,” I warn.

He looks back over his shoulder at me holding his leather jacket over a
puddle of icy goop. Black stuff bubbles a
t the surface like it’s a witch’
s brew. “You will sorely regret that. I wouldn’t do it if I were you.”

I laugh, “Or you’ll what?” What could he possibly
do? I shouldn’t have asked.

Wi
t
h
out warning, Ryan turns and snatches
my
wrist. He pulls and I’m about to slam into him, but he bends at the knee
,
and grabs my waist with his other hand. Within seconds, I’m
hoisted
over his shoulder kicking and screaming.

Ryan laughs, and walks us to the car. My hands tangle in his hair, half clinging to him, half trying to climb down. The frigid air is blowing my skirt over my head and the people in the diner are getting a really good show. “Here we are,” he says and
slides me down between him and the car.

I shove the jacket at him, and pound my fists into his chest. “Never do that to me again!” I
continue
to pound his chest and scold him, but when his fingers wrapped around
my wrists, all the venom drains
out
of me.

I like his touch
too much
. I like it when he acts like I’m his to
do
with as he pleases. It makes my skin grow hot and the
pit of my stomach twist
. The proximity of his body is too close. I can feel
the heat coming off of him. H
is scent fills
my head.

I calm down and Ryan
still holds my wrists. He tightens his grip slightly, and leans closer, crushing his jacket between us. His dark lashes lower as he studies my lips, drinking them in like they’re
hypnotic. Parting his lips,
he breathes through his mouth. My heart feels like it’s going to burst. I can’t sta
nd how he lingers so close
, like he could kiss me, but he cho
o
ses not to. I shiver and he presses his body against mine, pinning me.

He finally moves toward my lips and do
d
ges sideways at the last second and whispers in my ear, “Better get going.” Then his hands are gone. His coat is gone. Ryan is gone. He walks to the other side of the car and gets in.

I stand there
with my heart pounding like I’ve
been attacked by a bear. I try to shake it off, but he’s gotten to me
much worse than before.
If I ge
t home without hav
ing sex with him, someone needs to give me a
fricki
n
’ medal.
I suck
in the icy air and held it in my lungs. Exhaling loudly, I
sit down in my car and turn the engine over.

_
____
_

The heater starts slowly and eventually I stop shivering. Ryan doesn’t offer his jacket again. As I head toward the parkway, I notice flashing yellow signs. They illuminate the night, flashing, PKWY CLOSED. It take
s
me a second to realize we have a problem.
While
we were in the diner, the storm worsened. It laid down a sheet of ice, followed by more snow. The streets
are
slick, but as long as a plow
gets
through them, so
can we. The problem seems
to be a general lack of plows.

I say as much to Ryan, “Where are the plows? And why is the parkway closed?” I glance over my
shoulder and slowly move my boat of a car into a parking lot. I’m trying to remember, but I can’t. My maps of Long Island and Texas merged. I can’t remember if 231
merges
with Southern State or if that’s Loop 820 that merges with 30. “I can’t remember how to get out of here. We can get home on the L.I.E. or try to cut across to Sunrise, but the roads suck.”

“You can’t get to Sunrise from here, and the roads that you’d need to connect to
are
going to be closed too. It’s the ice. The plows aren’t out yet,
because they’
re expecting more ice.”

“Don’t they salt and sand?”

“Yeah, but not now.
It’s late and the storm just started. They’ll do it in the morning before commuters take off for work.” Ryan turns in his seat.
“If we go back the way we came, I bet we could get back to the dorms.”

I arch a brow at him.
“Dorms?”

“Yeah.
You have a better idea?”
Ryan attends college here. His dorm is right around the block.

I glance around, wondering if we
can
sleep in the car and rule it out. It’s too cold and I’ll run out of gas. I shake my head
, “No
.
”
My stomach climbs up my throat as I look at him. He’s inviting me to stay with h
im. I want to say no. I feel my emotions shattering like cheap glass. Shards go flying as I stare blankly, wondering how the hell I’m supposed to handle this.