Unexpectedly Yours (Page 10)

The kiss gets hotter. Stronger. Deeper. Fuck, I could drown in this, the sensual pleasure of her eager mouth, the blazing heat that pumps through my veins.

There’s a sharp whistle, and then laughter nearby. “Atta boy!” someone yells. “Show her how it’s done.”

I pull away. Sophie is staring at me, wide-eyed. Her hair is rumpled, her lips flushed red from the kiss.

She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

She blinks, coming back into focus again. “I didn’t…what did…?”

“It’s called kissing, sweetheart,” I murmur, smiling. I reach out and gently smooth her hair back into place. “And if you don’t like it, you better tell me now, because I’m planning on doing a lot more of it.”

Sophie gulps for air. “The jury’s still out,” she manages at last.

I laugh. She’s still trying to play it cool, but I know from the way she melted in my arms that she felt that just as much as I did.

“Sure, you keep telling yourself that,” I tell her, “but those lips don’t lie.”

I help her into her coat, then offer her my arm. She takes it with a smile. I steer us across the empty street, and we start strolling back to the hotel through the darkness, under the bright glow of the streetlamps.

“It snowed!” she exclaims suddenly, looking around. Sure enough, there’s a dusting of white coating the streets and parked cars we pass. “I can’t believe I missed it.”

“That’s OK, you had other things on your mind.” I shoot her a suggestive grin.

She giggles. “You know, you’re awfully sure of yourself,” Sophie comments, walking beside me. “Some people would even say you’re bordering on a narcissistic personality disorder.”

“What now?” I blink.

She catches my expression and laughs. “Psych grad student,” she explains. “I’ve always been fascinated by the way people think.”

“So what does your whole Christmas thing say about you?” I ask, only part teasing. “I mean, it’s just a big racket to make people spend money and try to pretend like they’re happy. I haven’t had a single holiday where my mom doesn’t start stressing over dinner, and my dad picks a fight with my uncle, and Grandpa George sits bitching by the TV all day.” I chuckle at the memories, but when I look over, Sophie has a wistful expression on her face.

“You have a big family?” she asks.

“Big enough.” I reply, steering us down another street. “There’s just my baby sister and me, but my parents have eight siblings between them, so things can get pretty out of control.”

“I’m an only child,” Sophie says quietly. “And my parents divorced when I was young. Christmas was always fight between them,” she sighs. “Another way to score points. They would split it up,” she explains. “Christmas Eve with my mom, Christmas Day with dad. But they always found a way to interrupt, so I would feel guilty for going, or worse for staying home.”

There’s a flash of sadness in her eyes. I find her hand and squeeze it.

“I always dreamed about the day I could make Christmas into the holiday I wanted. Start my own traditions, and leave the past behind,” she says.

“Like singing show tunes in a gay bar?” I try to make her smile. “You can tick that one off the list.”

It works. She cracks a smile, “No, just…Real holiday things. Like ice skating, and hot cocoa, and toys wrapped up under the tree. And a house that smells like cookies on Christmas morning, with Frank Sinatra singing holiday songs…”

She gets a dreamy look in her eyes. For a moment, I wish that one day she gets that same look thinking about me.

Where did that come from?

I make split-second a decision. I need to get her back to my hotel room, and show her everything I couldn’t do out on the street corner—naked and panting, surging hot against her body, tangled up in the sheets of that penthouse suite until she’s moaning so loud the neighbors call to complain.

I want to make her scream my name, clench around me, come out of her mind.

But I want to make her smile even more.

“Change of plans,” I tell her, veering left. The hotel is just ahead, but there’s someplace else I need to take her first.

“Where are we going?” Sophie blinks.

“It’s a surprise.”

“They told me never to wander off with strange men,” she teases me, laughing as she follows down the street. We cut through a shopping district, the boutique windows all lit up and glittering with their holiday displays.

“I’m not strange,” I grin back.

“Just a little.” she corrects me. “But that’s OK. We all are. The only normal people are the ones trying really, really hard to hide their weirdness. ”

“So now I’m weird?” I protest. “Gee, thanks darlin’.”

“I never said I didn’t like it.” Sophie suddenly stops, tugging me back to her. She reaches up on her tip-toes, and kisses me on the cheek.

Her breath is hot, her lips are cool. I feel off balance for a moment, and have to think real hard so we both don’t go sprawling in the slush. “What was that for?”

She gives me a shy smile. “This. Taking me out, making me laugh. You’re a nice guy.”