Chapter 17 #2
My fake boyfriend, who told my niece that he loves me, rests his cheek against the top of my head. Surrounding me, his every motion is sturdy and sure.
Too bad it has red-hot awareness raging through my insides like a vine tightening through my entire nervous system.
Oliver spins me in a circle in one smooth, swift motion, pressing me back into his chest one more time. The corners of his mouth lift.
Mine follow involuntarily, mirroring his smile back at him. “What?”
“Do your parents always hang mistletoe from the side of the tree?” He nods directly above us, where a sprig of mistletoe hangs from one of the highest branches.
Snorting, I roll my eyes. “Yep. They take any excuse to gross out their kids, especially around the holidays. But then again—” I peek up at him from underneath my lashes“—who are we to buck tradition?”
“Calloway Rutherford, are you asking me to kiss you?” Leaning back, he smirks.
Heat races through my veins, threatening to give me away. Grinning, I lift a shoulder. “More like picking up where we left off in the kitchen. It was just starting to get good.” Before I can even process the audacity of my own statement, Oliver’s lips are on mine.
Pressing. Demanding.
His large hands roam slowly down my sides as our mouths open, each inviting the other in. Stopping just below the dip of my waist, Oliver’s fingers wrap around my hips. His grip tightens, pulling me flush to him.
Fire courses through my body, enveloping me in an all-consuming heat. I can’t tell if it’s from the overzealous fireplace or the stupidly attractive man holding onto me like his life depends on it. As my hands fist themselves in the front of his sweater, one of Oliver’s releases its iron grip.
Entangling his free hand in my hair, the best man I’ve ever known holds me in place just as my knees threaten to give out. A wild rumble of appreciation shudders through his chest as our teeth clash together, each begging the other for more.
Brazen fingers slide down his firm chest and stomach, finding the bottom of his shirt and dipping themselves inside.
Underneath the hem, the warmth of his skin scorches my fingertips as he shivers at the contact.
In a moment of bravery, my hands slide down to his waistband, where his button and fly open with ease.
Oliver follows suit, his lower hand sliding around to unfasten the button of my jeans.
Somewhere behind my parents’ closed bedroom door, another door slams shut.
My heart drums against the walls of my chest as we break apart, both taking in as much air as we can manage.
Oliver’s typically light eyes have been taken over, possessed by a darkness felt deep within me, as well. Chest heaving, those eyes pin me in place. “Callie—”
The weight of our situation comes crashing down. Humiliation floods my every nerve. “We need to go,” I pant, nodding toward their room, “just in case they decide to come back out.” Without waiting on an answer, I move faster than I have in my entire life, taking the stairs two at a time.
The sound of Oliver’s footsteps follow me up the staircase and down the hallway, pausing just long enough for me to reach our bedroom before I die from embarrassment.
Throwing open the door, my panicked eyes bounce between my two options for safety.
On the one hand, I could lock myself in the bathroom.
But if Oliver needs it at any point in the night, that would only make things more awkward.
On the other hand, I could potentially freeze to death out on the balcony.
It would be difficult for Oliver to explain my frozen carcass, but at least I wouldn’t have to worry about embarrassing myself further.
Besides, this infernal fire in my core needs to chill the hell out.
I make a beeline for the balcony.
The sound of the door clicking shut behind Oliver only makes me move faster. “Callie, where are you going?”
Yanking the balcony sliding glass to the side, I step out into the Christmas Eve air. My eyes burn, begging for an emotional release from whatever just happened downstairs.
Whatever was about to happen.
Sliding the door back into place, I close my eyes and take a deep breath of the frigid winter midnight.
Light snowfall bites at the tip of my nose as I reach the railing, but it does nothing for the heat lingering in my cheeks.
Wiping away the single tear forging a trail down my cheek, I sniff right as the balcony door slides open once again.
He’s silent as he steps out onto the snowcovered balcony, shutting the door behind him. Soft crunches from the piled snow hints at his movements. Finally, his warmth seeps into my back as he reaches me. “Callie,” he tries again, “look at me. Please.”
Blinking to ensure there are no other stray tears, I take a deep breath, steeling myself as I turn around.
Oliver’s tender eyes take in my face, no doubt catching every single thing I wish I could hide from him.
But he’s always seen right through me.
A hand gingerly lifts, cradling my cheek and rubbing a thumb across my skin. “Talk to me, sweetheart,” he breathes.
Forcing a smile onto my face, I shake my head.
Oliver’s lips tilt up. “It’s just you and me, baby. Tell me.” He shifts closer, using his free hand to pull me close. “You’ll freeze if we stay out here much longer.”
“Not likely.”
Using a finger to lift my chin, Oliver brings my gaze to his. “Come inside with me. I promise to let you hide in the bathroom if you start to feel the least bit awkward.”
Biting my lip to hide my smile, I cast a quick glance over my shoulder. “The view was getting a little old, anyway.” I’m not about to admit that I’m already turning into an icicle.
Oliver gives a low chuckle as he ushers me back inside. “That’s my girl.”
Letting him take care of shutting the door, I plop down onto the bed, kicking off my shoes and socks one at a time.
Oliver leans back onto the dresser, pulling off his sweater to reveal a white T-shirt underneath. The traitorous mirror reflects every flex of his back muscles on display through his shirt.
I’m tempted to check for drool, even if that’s about the least appropriate thing to do right now.
Setting the sweater down, Oliver folds toned arms over his broad chest. Mimicking my own movements, the man steps out of his shoes and socks one by one. He makes no secret of watching me carefully, as if afraid I’ll bolt at any moment.
Not sure where he came up with that idea.
“Callie, we need to talk about that kiss.” His words are slow, deliberate. Each one heavy with the weight of what remains unspoken.
“Why?” I ask innocently, with one sock on the floor and the other halfway off my foot. I’d imagine this is what marriage must be like—having awkward conversations forced on you when you least want to have them.
All while half-dressed.
My wandering eyes drift down to where his khakis hang perfectly from his hips, unbuttoned and right where we left off.
Oliver follows my gaze and smirks. “That’s why.”
“Do you think it’s some big secret that you’re super hot or something?” I ask, rolling my eyes.
“You think I’m super hot?” His grin widens.
“Objectively, you’d make just about any woman toss her underwear at you.
Don’t act so surprised. I’ve seen your apartment—you own mirrors.
” Leaning back against the headboard, I weave my fingers together and rest them on my stomach.
“And that’s not even including all your other obvious attributes,” I groan.
“Other attributes?”
I can look at him so long as I take myself out of the judging process.
No feelings, no problem. Think objectively, not like you’re in love with the guy.
“Between your career where you get to make a difference daily, your amazing family and the fact that you own the dog of the century, you’ve just gotta face facts, Rhodes. ”
“And what exactly are these facts, Rutherford?” His brow furrows, trying to keep up with my logic that is closely aligned with that of the clinically insane.
Shrugging, I resituate to a sitting position while my legs remain kicked out on the bed. “You’re a catch.”
That beautiful smile drops. Something else takes over his expression, softening it. “You think I’m a catch?”
“The ninety-year-old gas station clerk on the way up here thought you were a catch, Oliver.”
He hangs his head, shaking it. “That’s not what I asked, Callie.” When Oliver brings his eyes back up to mine, every single nerve lights itself on fire. “I want to know what you think.”
“About the fact that you should definitely be married with eight hundred kids by now?” I ask, quirking a brow. “And that in no way should you have to dupe your family by having a fake girlfriend?”
A wolfish smile pulls at Oliver’s lips. Pushing off from the dresser, he takes slow, measured steps toward the bed. “Maybe it’d be easier if I started.”
“Started?” I repeat.
“With my assessment of your … ” his heated gaze travels the length of me. “Attributes. Since you were so kind as to share some of mine.”
My heart kicks into high gear, thrashing more rapidly with each step he takes. And when he reaches where I lay and holds out his hand, my entire nervous system hums in anticipation.
“Callie.”
Needing no further urging, I place my hand in his. The effect this man has on me is criminal. The moment his skin touches mine, my entire body sings.
Outwardly, only my breathing gives away any discomfort from the need growing in my core.
He doesn’t miss it, biting back a smile as he pulls me to my feet. Oliver adjusts so that I’m standing toe to toe with him, those long fingers intertwining with mine by our sides.
Blush rapidly staining my cheeks, I chance a peek up at him. “You wanted to discuss, um, something?” I whisper. Air catches in my throat as his intensely blue eyes hold mine.
“Yes, Ms. Rutherford. I’ve spent a good deal of time with you, you see.”
“I’m aware,” I nod.
He grins. “And I believe I’ve gathered some notes worth sharing.”
“Oh?”