Then when that dickhead of a fiancé she had left her, I fucking threw a party.
I hated him. He was a tool who never deserved her.
Then after he left her, she needed time. Her pain was evident as she struggled.
There were times I tried to make her laugh, smile, forget about him, and over the last few months . . . she did.
We started working on a pitch for a new vitamin type drink. Long nights with takeout in the office made it impossible not to fall harder for her.
I spent so long pretending that it was just lust, but I can’t do that anymore. Now that I’ve had her, I don’t ever want to let her go again.
“I don’t understand . . .”
My hand lifts, gently touching her cheek. “What don’t you understand?”
She tries to step back farther, but there’s nowhere to go. “This! Us. Why would you say all this when you’re going to California and aren’t sure if you’ll find another job or come back? Do you want to give me another reason to hate Christmas?”
The last thing I want to do is hurt her more. I tried to get out of going home. I planned to talk to her this week, see her and explain that I don’t think the other night was a mistake. My whole goal was to make her Christmas something special. Take her out on a real date, show her that it isn’t the holidays that are shit—it is the dickhead she was with.
“No. That definitely is not my intention.”
Her hand presses at my chest, but I don’t move. I can’t let her get away before she knows how I feel. “Then what are you trying to do?”
“I’m trying to make you see.”
“See what?”
Instead of answering her with words, I kiss her. My mouth is hard against hers, and she freezes. Kissing Holly is everything I remember and more. The hand that was trying to push me away is now grasping at my shirt. Her lips go from rigid to soft as she kisses me back.
I feel her fighting herself, though. When we were together last week, she was completely uninhibited. She let go, and God, it was beautiful.
“Stop thinking,” I say. Our lips just brushing. “Stop trying to make these crazy things in your head reality. Stop pulling away.”
“Stop talking,” she counters.
Her hand snakes around the back of my head, and she kisses me this time.
My palms travel down her slender body, wanting to feel her skin but knowing she doesn’t trust me not to hurt her. I need her to see I’m nothing like the guy she believes I am.
She breaks the kiss and tries to calm her breath.
Her blue eyes are filled with passion and confliction.
I run my fingers across her cheek, and she smiles.
“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve imagined kissing you in this elevator?”
“Yeah?”
The most beautiful shade of pink paints her cheeks. “I’ve liked you for a while, but Dean, we work together, and this California thing . . .”
“I’ll come back,” I vow. “If you tell me there’s a chance, I’ll come back.”HollyThe sound of my heart pounding is so loud that I’m sure he can hear it. “There’s more than a chance.”
I can’t believe I just said it, but I’m tired of fighting the feelings I have.
I care about him, and I’ve been fooling myself by saying anything else. He’s sweet, caring, and if he left, I would forever wonder.
Dean is the opposite of anyone I’ve ever been with, and I think that’s a good thing.
“There is?”
He can’t leave without knowing, because I want him to come back. Even if it means I never get another account again. Well, maybe not that much, but still.
My breathing is shallow as I tell him everything that’s in my heart. “I care about you, Dean. I have for a long time. I know what you overheard, but none of it was true. I only said it because bad things happen around this time of year and I wanted to protect myself. I wanted to believe we could be together, but then everything just felt so . . . scary.”
I give him my truth because I trust him with it. He’s never lied to me, and he’s always done anything he could to make me smile.
When I was broken, Dean somehow always made getting up and coming to work a little less painful. He never pushed me, but now there’s no going back.
“I’m going to make you love Christmas again, Holls. I’m going to show you that Santa, snow, the music, and all things are full of joy.”
I shake my head, both telling him no and denying the claim to myself. “How do you plan to do that?”
He presses his lips to mine, and I push my body against his. “By reminding you that it’s how we got together. Because if that stupid snowstorm hadn’t knocked the power out during the time of year when Santa comes and if the music weren’t playing in our office that night, we wouldn’t have joy. We wouldn’t have finally stopped pretending these feelings between us were really happening.”