Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
EMMA
An explosion of light and color greeted her. Leo’s suite was as big as three of her apartments put together.
“Oh, wow. This is incredible.”
“Sorry about that,” he said. “My dad wanted to talk about the football match.”
Emma didn’t respond and found she could only stare.
Every corner had been decorated. It looked like she had just entered a department store’s Santa setup.
Multicolored lights stretched around the room, and garland was hung from the mantle.
Candles flickered warmly, and Bing Crosby’s soulful voice melted out of the speakers.
“It’s fine. Ruby’s aware that something’s going on though. I had to dive into her room, and she basically threatened to have me extradited if I hurt you.”
He cleared his throat. “She can be protective.”
“Hang on,” she said, striding over to the small kitchen island. She sniffed the concoction simmering in the saucepan. “Is this a Santa’s Revenge?”
“I think so. Hot buttered rum plus M&Ms, right?”
“You’re insane. And amazing. How did you know about all this?”
“I had a lovely chat with your mom yesterday.”
No wonder she had been so inquisitive today.
“You called my mom?” she said softly.
“I hope that’s not weird.”
She bit her lip. No one had ever done anything like this for her before. “It’s not weird. How did you have time to do all of this?” she asked.
“Who needs sleep when there’s Christmas to be had?”
She tapped her chin with a finger. “Didn’t you call it a soulless corporate holiday earlier this week?”
“Maybe somewhere along the way, I lost perspective. And I know you’ve been missing your mom and your traditions.”
“This is wonderful. Thank you. Did you try this?” She handed him a mug of Santa’s Revenge.
They clinked glasses, then sipped.
It was a little bit different than her usual batch—better, if she was being honest—but it still felt warm, familiar, and right. She couldn’t have more than one, or she would be useless at baking and decorating later that evening.
“What do you think?”
“Honestly? Better than I expected,” he said. There was a bit of cream on his lip, and she reached over to wipe it off. The movement brought them very close together, and a wave of heat washed over her.
She had made their perfect date awkward. He would probably be too afraid to cross that bridge with her again. And they only had tonight.
“There’s one more thing,” he added, taking her hand and guiding her into a living room.
She gasped. “Hold the fucking phone. Dance Your Face Off Four?”
He nodded.
“How did you even find this?” she asked.
“I had some time,” he said.
“No, you didn’t. You have a life-changing presentation to prepare for.”
“I’m prepared,” he said, but his eyes suggested otherwise.
Against her wishes, her heart was growing in her chest. This was problematic. This trip was supposed to be career-focused, no nonsense. She wasn’t supposed to meet a man who washed her dishes and drove around all night to recreate a piece of home for her.
He shook his head. “Regardless, it’s here. And I think tradition dictates a dance.”
He handed her a controller, and she took it. It felt good, like being back five years ago when her mom could dance alongside her and, frankly, kick her ass. Even though she was thousands of miles away, this moment felt like home.
“I hope you’re warmed up,” she said, dropping her Liza Manelli wig on a chair.
“You didn’t strike me as the competitive type.”
“I’m not. Except for this game.”
She pulled her phone out and took some pictures. Just so she could remember it always, exactly as it had been. She caught Leo in the last frame, eyes glimmering with Christmas lights and hands shoved into his boot-cut jeans.
She sent a couple pictures to her mom, who responded almost immediately.
Mom: Don’t have too many Santa’s Revenges or your gingerbread house will look like an abandoned asylum. Love you xoxo
Leo had basically already met her mom. How strange.
“Shall we?” she asked in an attempt to ignore whatever emotional warfare was going on inside.
“I’m ready,” Leo said. There was a peculiar expression on his face. Wistfulness, maybe? She might be imagining things. The Santa’s Revenge was coursing through her veins after one measly sip.
She expertly flicked through the video game menu to the traditional songs and picked the first one.
“Santa’s Sleighin’” blasted through the intimidating-looking soundbar, and Leo and Emma began to dance side by side, following the instructions that whizzed by at lightning speed.
Leo followed along beside her, better at it than he had any right to be. Had he practiced? She couldn’t stop watching him out of the corner of her eye, and she nearly missed a couple of moves even though she knew all these songs by heart.
When the song ended, they were both out of breath.
“That used to be easier,” she said. Not to mention she wasn’t wearing the right bra for it.
God, it was hot in here. Especially with the fireplace on.
Without stopping to think, she stripped her sweater off and stood there in her bra and jeans.
Leo’s gaze zeroed in on her chest, then snapped back to the TV. It looked like his grip tightened on his controller, and he cleared his throat.
“Another?” he asked, looking very determinedly at the screen.
“Aren’t you hot?” she asked.
“A little,” he admitted.
“I’ll feel more comfortable if you’re shirtless too. Your Highness,” she added cheekily.
He considered for a moment, then stripped his sweater off. The candlelight contouring his abs was extremely distracting. Desire bloomed in her, hot and fast, like the evening primrose that opened at night in their garden back home.
“Loser of the next song loses their pants,” she announced. The Santa’s Revenge was making her bold. She raised an eyebrow, daring him to refute her.
“Deal. I hope you’re not attached to yours because you’re going to lose,” he said.
“We’ll see,” she said.
They danced to the next song. He lost, and his pants slid down over muscular thighs and dropped to the floor.
“Again?” he asked, looking awfully cocky for someone who was down to a pair of silk boxers.
“Again.”
They paused for another sip. Her guard had dropped so low it was probably somewhere in the basement.
They danced again, and her movements were getting less sharp. Her ass was sweating. At least he was sweating too.
The song ended, and Leo won.
Emma made a show of unbuttoning her jeans and sliding them off.
If Lola knew about this, her scream would be audible from Antarctica.
He was standing closer to her now. There was a hunger in his eyes.
“One more?” he asked, trailing his fingertips down the back of her arm.
Goosebumps developed despite the heat in the air.
“One more.”
Time was running short. She needed to knock this song out of the park and figure out what was happening next.
The kitchen awaited, and she really needed to get to work.
Her entire future hung in the balance. But for some reason, she could only focus on Leo and the beads of sweat forming on his lower back.
His biceps bulged, and his deltoids rippled with strength as he followed the TV. Halfway through, the controller slipped through Emma’s sweaty hand and bounced onto the rug. She bent to pick it up, and Leo’s hand grazed her ass.
It was all she could do to not throw everything to the side and leap on him. She stopped trying so hard, flailing her arms at the wrong time and watching Leo even more intently.
“Don’t throw the game, Emma,” he said, nodding at the screen.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The song ended, and the score tallied on-screen. Leo won.
Emma let her controller fall again, and she slowly and deliberately unclasped her bra. The straps skated down her arms, and it fell to the rug with a muffled thump.
There was a response in Leo’s boxers.
She stepped closer to him, trailing a hand down his arm.
It didn’t matter that it didn’t make sense. It didn’t matter that she was setting herself up for heartbreak, or that they might never see each other again after tomorrow night. For now, this was enough.
They looked at each other, and time stretched and slowed like they were passing through some kind of personal wormhole. Every heartbeat was audible, and every part of her body screamed at her.
Now.
She wound her arms around his neck and pressed her mouth to his. He pulled her tightly against his chest and fisted a hand in her hair, kissing her deeply.
It stole the breath from her. All she could feel was Leo and heat. The slide of his damp skin along her nipples, the soft bite on her bottom lip that tore a moan from her throat. Even this was too far apart.
She shifted, and he pulled back.
“Are you sure this is okay?” His eyes searched hers.
“Yes,” she said, then dove back in.
Christmas music still played in the background. Her body physically ached for his, delighting in the feel of strength and power and being held.
It had been so long since someone held her.
He reached around and grabbed her ass, lifting her until she wrapped her legs around his waist. The friction of his silk boxers against her underwear was too much. His erection was rock-hard and pressing into her belly button.
He carried her across the room and muscled a door open. She caught a glimpse of a regal-looking bed frame before he tossed her back onto a pile of pillows.
He took a second to look at her, and she automatically moved to cover herself.
“Don’t,” he commanded. “I want to see you.”
Her hands fell helplessly to her sides, and he took in every bit of her frame before he came back to her mouth, kissing her tenderly.
His mouth was soft, his tongue warm and gentle as they explored each other.
She was probably sweating all over his comforter. Maybe she even smelled. But for once, she didn’t care.
His hand glided down her torso and stopped at her underwear. He teased her through the cotton, stroking with strong and capable fingers.