Chapter 6
CHAPTER
SIX
Liam
I should feel ridiculous, walking beside her in an all-white suit, like I’m about to headline a Vegas magic show or pose for a boy-band comeback album.
But I don’t. Maybe it’s because she keeps looking at me like I’m something worth looking at.
Or maybe it’s the heat simmering under my skin, just from being near her.
We walk another block, the city humming around us, before curiosity gets the better of me. Or maybe the tension does—thick, steady, impossible to ignore.
“So,” I say, “be straight with me. Why the red?”
She laughs—low, warm, the kind of sound that strokes against my skin without ever touching me. “Since Aaron invited me at the last minute,” she continues, “he forgot to mention the dress code. I didn’t know it was an all-white wedding until we were already walking in. All red was what I had.”
“It’s a bold choice.”
“I’m an old-school kind of girl.” She lifts one shoulder in a slow, confident shrug. “If I’m going to stand out, I’m going to commit. That said, I’m bold, but I didn’t love taking attention from the bride. That wasn’t the intention.”
It’s the first time tonight she sounds even slightly unsure. It makes her seem more real. And somehow more dangerous.
“Is the fish-out-of-water outfit the real reason you wanted to leave the wedding? Because you in that red coat against a terrace full of white felt like … fireworks waiting to happen.”
“Partly,” she adds, her pace slowing as her gloved fingers tighten around mine. “More than that … I wanted to leave with you.”
The words land somewhere low and warm in my chest. “Why me?”
She gives me a long, deliberate look—slow, lingering, like she’s memorizing me. “Well … it might have had something to do with you showing up, dressed like”—she gestures at me with a lazy flick of her leather-clad fingers—“a very charming marshmallow.”
I groan. “Terrific. Exactly the look I was going for.”
“A handsome marshmallow,” she corrects, stepping just a bit closer. “The kind you don’t toss in cocoa. The kind you … savor.”
Her tone dips on the last word, and I feel the pull of it in my stomach.
“You want to savor me?” I ask, poking my chest with a finger, my voice rougher than it should be.
She nods. “I wanted to walk through Manhattan at Christmastime with a handsome stranger who could make me forget my senses for a few hours.” Her breath rushes into the air between us. “And maybe … a few hours more.”
She steps just close enough that the side of her body presses against mine, her coat touching my suit. It’s nothing overt. Just enough to make my pulse thicken. Just enough to make me imagine her without the coat, without the gloves, without the distance.
“Where are we going next?” I look down at her as she looks up at me.
“We’re heading back toward Central Park. I thought we could take a carriage ride. Have you ever been on one?”
“I’ve ridden a horse before, but never in a carriage.” I bring her gloved hand up to my lips and kiss the back of her hand. “Hey.” I stop walking and face her. “Thank you for doing all this with me tonight. It’s seriously the most fun I think I’ve ever had.”
“Really?” She smiles and tilts her head.
I nod. “I swear.”
“I’m glad. I’m having a good time too.” She turns, and we continue walking.
We can hear another street musician somewhere nearby, playing Christmas carols. There’s a comfortable silence between us as we walk.
Right before we cross the street to the park, we see a vendor selling various Christmas trees, some decorations, and a display stand with ornaments hanging from it.
“Hang on a sec. Let’s look and see what they have. You should definitely get something to remember this night in Manhattan, right?” She looks up at me, and the reflection of the lights in her eyes makes them sparkle.
“For sure, but I think you should too. I don’t want you to forget my handsome face.” I wink at her.
“Oh, there’s no way I’d forget your face or this night.” She takes an apple ornament off the hanger and turns toward me. “I’m really glad we were both cold and bored.”
“Me too, Vixen. Me. Too.” I take her other hand in mine and pull her in closer to me. “Have I told you how beautiful you are?”
“Tell me,” she breathes.
I slide my hand into her hair and step in closer still.
“You’re beautiful in a way that blindsides a guy.
Not just because of your face—though that alone could ruin me—but because you’re vibrant and unpredictable, like the whole season wrapped into one woman.
You’ve got that Christmas kind of magic …
the kind that pulls a man in, warms him up, and makes him want more.
It’s the kind of beauty someone doesn’t forget. ”
“Hey. You gonna buy that, lady?” The vendor interrupts us.
Still holding my gaze, she answers him, “Yep. I’ll take this one and this one.” She pulls away from me and holds out an ornament of the Rockefeller tree.
“Which one is mine?” I point to her hand.
“The apple is yours. The tree is mine—because that’s the first time I noticed the green in your eyes, and they shimmered in the light of the tree, and I didn’t want to look away.” Her teeth graze her lip.
“And I get the apple because you’re—”
“Bold, bright, and impossible to ignore.” She lifts a shoulder.
“I was thinking because you’re too tempting not to want to take a bite out of.”
I let out a groan, and she smiles, then ducks her head and walks over to the vendor.
“That’ll be thirty,” the guy says.
“I’ll get it.” I walk over, pull out forty bucks, and hand it to the guy.
“Oh, wait, one more thing.” She grabs a Santa hat off another stand.
“Twenty,” the vendor says.
“Twenty? You’ve got to be kidding me.” She puts her hands on her hips and huffs.
“I got it. Here you go, buddy.” I hand him another twenty. “Keep the change. Merry Christmas.” I nod, then reach for her hand. “Let’s go, my little Vixen.”
As we walk, she starts to laugh. “You just got ripped off. We could have gotten that same hat at Duane Reade for half that price.”
“Ah, who cares? And you picked it up, not me!” I wrap my arm around her waist and tickle her side.
She giggles and squirms away from me. “No tickling!”
“Okay, let’s go find this carriage.” I wrap my arm around her again, and we continue to walk.
“Oh! There’s one!” She points to an all-black carriage with a red seat bench and a gorgeous black horse. There are white lights attached to the carriage and along the harness. We walk over to it, and she asks the driver, “Are you taking rides?”
“I sure am. Hop on in.” He waves his arm toward the carriage with a wide smile. “I’m Frank, and I’ll be your driver tonight.” He looks at me. “Hey, don’t I know you?”
I don’t really want to be rude, but I also don’t want to be talking about football the whole time with the driver, so I just smile and wink at him. “Thanks for the ride.”
I guide her over to the step and hold her hand. “My lady.”
“Thank you,” she says, then places a kiss on my cheek before she climbs into the carriage.
I can feel the heat from her lips, even after she pulls away.
Once she takes a seat, I climb up and settle beside her.
I drape my arm along the back of the bench, hand resting on her shoulder, and pull her a little closer, letting her lean into me.
I think I hear a quiet sigh, but it could just be the horse’s hooves clopping over the pavement.
Either way, it hits me—I love having this woman in my arms.
Her warmth presses against me, soft and solid at the same time, and the faint scent of her wraps around me.
My chest tightens in that way that makes me want to hold her closer, to feel her even more.
Everything else—the cold, the noise, the moving horse—blurs into the background.
Frank rattles off the route he’s taking around the park, but I barely register the words.
All I can focus on is her—the way she fits perfectly against me, the subtle weight of her body molded to mine, the heat of her skin against my arm.
My pulse jumps every time she shifts just enough to brush against me, and a low, dangerous thought slides through my head: I don’t want to let go, not now, not ever.
After we’re on our way and Frank leaves us to ourselves, I tug her to me and place a hand on her leg. “Are you cold?” I place a kiss on the top of her head.
“A little, but you’re keeping me warm.” She leans her head back to look at me.
“Can I tell you something?” I ask, looking between her eyes and her lips.
“Yes,” she breathes.
“I’ve never wanted to kiss someone as badly as I want to kiss you.” I inch my face closer to hers.
She reaches her hand up to my face. “So then, kiss me.” Her hand holds the back of my neck, and she pulls me toward her even closer.
I don’t care that Frank is with us, or that people passing by can see us. I need to taste these cherry-red lips.
“Are you sure?”
“If you don’t kiss me, Blitzen, I’m going to kiss you—”
Before she can finish what she’s saying, I press my lips to hers.
Her mouth is soft, warm, and impossibly sweet, and I want more than just a taste—I want all of her.
I trace the seam of her lips with my tongue, and when she parts, I slide inside, feeling my tongue brushing against hers.
She tastes like a danger I want to keep indulging in.
She twists against me without breaking the kiss, and I lift her legs, draping them over mine.
Her body molds against mine, every curve pressing into me, every movement setting a fire in my chest. My hand slides along her thigh, cupping her ass cheek through the layers, feeling the heat radiating through her clothes.
I want her closer, skin to skin, but even this—layers and all—is enough to make me ache.
Her hand snakes up the back of my head, running through my hair, pulling me deeper.
Our tongues slide and tangle together in a slow, hungry rhythm.
I feel her pulse in the subtle pressure of her hands, her hips shifting on the seat, the faint tremor in her body against mine.
Every touch sparks something feral in me, a tension that makes my hands clench and my pulse pound.
Time ceases. Frank rattles off directions in front of us, but I don’t hear a word. I don’t care. All that exists is her, the way she melts into me, and the ache of wanting more.
Finally, I lean back slightly, resting my forehead against hers. My chest rises with the burn of desire, hands still lingering on her body, reluctant to leave. “Come back to my hotel with me,” I say, voice deep, certain, a command disguised as a promise.
She pulls back and looks around, then back at me and nods. “Okay.” Then she slams her mouth on mine again.
We kiss until my lips feel swollen, but I don’t want to stop. I never want to stop.
A throat clears. “Hate to interrupt you lovebirds, but we’re almost back to our departure area.”
I pull away from our kiss and turn toward Frank. “Actually, can you drop us off in front of The Plaza?”
“No problem, sir.” He nods his head.
I look back at her, and she’s biting her lip, watching me, but she has a soft smile on her lips. I take my thumb and press it against her lip and tug it free from her teeth. “That’s mine to bite.”
She touches her tongue to the tip of my thumb.
“Fuck. Yes,” I groan.
The carriage pulls to a stop, and Frank steps out of his seat and waits for us to disembark.
I step off first, then turn and reach for her, grabbing hold of her waist and lifting her off the carriage.
When I set her down, I get into my pocket for my wallet and hand Frank three hundred-dollar bills and shake his hand.
“Sir, I’m so sorry to ask, but can I get your autograph?” Frank leans in.
I glance at him, heart skipping a beat. Shit. Keep it calm. Keep it casual. “Yeah, sure. Do you have something for me to sign?” I pat my pockets. “I don’t have anything on me.”
He pulls out a notepad and a pen from a pocket in his coat and hands them both to me. “I really appreciate it. My grandson, Michael, is a fan. He won’t believe it when I tell him I had you in my carriage tonight.”
I take the notepad and lean slightly away from her, keeping my head low. Scribbling quickly, I sign my name and add a little note to Michael.
She leans over to watch, curiosity written all over her face. “What was that about?” she asks softly, tilting her head.
I slide the notepad back to Frank without looking at her. “Just a little fan moment,” I murmur, keeping my tone casual, almost teasing, letting the mystery hang.
Frank smiles wide, eyes sparkling behind his glasses. “Thank you, Mr. Pitz. Michael will be thrilled.”
I nod with a smirk, then shake Frank’s hand. “No problem.”
Her lips twitch with a smile, but she doesn’t press. I drape my arm around her shoulders, feeling her warmth against me, her subtle shiver under my touch.
She looks up and smiles. “Come on, Blitzen. I’m cold and ready for you to warm me up.” She shakes off my arm and takes my hand in hers, and we walk into The Plaza hand in hand.