Christmas Kisses (Winter Kisses #1)(4)
Author: H.M. Ward

Ryan blinks slowly and nods. “Yeah, friends. From now on, after you break up with a total dick, would you mind telling me where you run off to?”

The corner of my mouth pulls up. “I don’t plan on dating more dicks.”

He laughs and his beautiful face lights up. “If that were only possible.”

“Shut up,” I push his wrist and he shakes his head.

“So, when do you go back?”

“Beginning of January, New Year’s Day actually. I signed up for a short course.”

He nods slowly, sipping his coffee. I watch him press the mug to his lips, taking in how he holds the mug in his hands. I wonder if he holds his lovers like that, so gently, and those lips… A shiver runs through me. He notices. “You cold?” I shake my head. He grins at me and leans forward. “You were thinking something naughty.” My cheeks flame red as my eyes go wide. Fricken! How does he do that! His foot rubs against mine under the table. “It must have been good for you to turn cherry red. So, come on. Share.”

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

“Nothing wouldn’t make your face burn, Connelly. Come on, spill.” Ryan’s grinning now and I know he won’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-thigh when I stand, and it’s a little short when I sit. I flush again, and kick him. Ryan grins at me. “You are wearing tights.”

“They’re thigh highs. And thanks 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 slide down, so I added the garters. I realize I’ve gotten to him. I’m not that slow—okay, I am that slow—but why 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 br**sts. I know he can see down my top. My hair falls forward, blocking most of my cl**vage 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 around, and say, “They all match—the 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 br**sts. 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 flirted 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 br**sts 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 ever) 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 loosen, but I don’t sit back. I don’t let go. Where his fingers touch my bare arms, I feel pinpricks of electricity tingling warmly beneath my skin. It’s like magic.

Everything about him is captivating, beyond reason, beyond comprehension. If Ryan knew how he makes 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 asks, “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 doesn’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 when 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 Ryan’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 c*ck 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 some reason this feels 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.”