Chapter 9
nine
AMANDA
I looked like a sticky-fingered raccoon, crouched over the sink at nearly midnight while scraping toffee residue off the catering dish. I couldn’t decide if it was the pudding sitting heavy in my stomach or the uneasiness of my time with Henry.
For a moment, I’d thought he was going to kiss me.
And for a moment, I would have let him.
Which left me feeling all kinds of topsy-turvy. I’d let him get close, and for what? For him to wipe my lip and leave?
What the fuck?
The thud of disappointment as he’d pulled away had caught me off-guard. When Henry pushed himself to his feet and walked out, leaving me on the floor with my pudding, I wanted to demand he come right back over and put his god damned tongue in my mouth.
I scrubbed harder, as though cleaning dishes could fix the disturbing void he’d left.
‘Why do you even care?’ I asked myself. ‘He’s not even your type. He’s too cheery. Too hoppy. Too sweet. I liked men a little darker… in the bedroom at least.
Although Henry had said he knew how to take control and sent my thighs clenching, he probably didn’t mean it how I hoped he did.
I should not be thinking about him.
Not like this.
Not with a warm, traitorous pull in my stomach.
But no matter how hard I scrubbed, the moment kept replaying in my head.
Searching for what I’d done to make him leave.
Was it my fault? Did my resting bitch face send him scarpering?
Or had I imagined the heat in his eyes? No.
It had been there. The way his thumb brushed my lips, like he was thinking about how they’d feel pressed against his.
The way the air had thickened between us, growing heavy.
The way he’d looked at me like he needed to taste…
I groaned as I dried up the dishes.
I should not be lusting after the gardener.
I should be focusing on work and my clients, not remembering Henry leaning toward me, smelling like freshly chopped wood and pine trees.
And yet.
A holiday fling wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, would it?
Not forever. Not feelings. Not complicated.
Just a few days of letting my nether regions overrule my brain. Letting the man-shaped golden retriever take control for ten minutes, hell, maybe longer if I’m lucky, wouldn’t be so bad.
It would have to be top secret, of course. If he even wanted to.
I turned off the kitchen light with a sigh.
‘Get a grip,’ I muttered, resigning myself to the whole damned thing being in my head.
The hallway was steeped in darkness, the only light coming from the still-lit monstrous tree in the foyer. I rounded the corner and at the foot of the double stairwell, Henry stood, sleeves rolled up and leaning against the wall by the piano.
One of his feet was braced back against the panelling, those thickly muscled arms folded. He tipped his head as I froze.
The puppy-dog vibes had vanished, replaced by something darker and more thrilling in his face. Something almost devilish that had heat coiling deep inside me.
‘Everything alright?’ I asked, swallowing down a whole bundle of nerves.
Henry didn’t answer. He pushed off the wall and crossed the space, looking more like a tiger than a retriever. My breath hitched as the floor between us narrowed. I stepped backwards, my spine hitting the wall.
‘You’re doing rounds, checking lights. Doors. That sort of thing?’ he asked.
‘Just, uh, going to my, uh, bed.’
Come on, Amanda, you know how to bloody well speak.
Those icy blue eyes lifted to the space just above my head.
‘You know, for someone who hates Christmas, you’ve picked an interesting place to stop.’
‘Why?’ I followed his gaze.
Mistletoe.
Jeez Louise. Who the hell put that there? I most definitely hadn’t requested mistletoe. Then I spotted his clippers on the bottom step.
‘You know you could have just aske—’
He closed the space between us, and I bit back my retort. That one step stole the breath right out of my lungs.
‘You’re so fucking beautiful,’ he murmured, his voice warm enough to melt any resolve that might have lingered. Bracing one hand against the wall by my head, he used the other to cup my jaw, tracing his thumb over my cheek.
‘Henry,’ I breathed, unsure if it was a warning or a plea.
He leaned close enough that his breath tickled my ear, sending my pulse rocketing.
I swallowed hard. My brain practically melted out of my ears.
My muscles turned to stone as the heat from his body wrapped around me.
All I could do was look up at him and wonder if he could hear my heartbeat echoing in my chest.
‘Amanda,’ he whispered, ‘Wanting to be this close to you has plagued me for days.’
My knees nearly buckled.
I parted my lips to say something, but nothing came.
Absolutely nothing. Not one single sensible thought left. The fucker had emptied my brain.
The heat that rolled through me when he grazed his lower lip with his teeth was humiliating. You’d think I’d never had a hook-up before.
‘Amanda.’ Henry tipped my chin up a touch with his thumb. ‘I don’t need you to control things.’
My breath tangled with his as he tipped his face to mine.
‘But I do need to kiss you right fucking now.’
My thoughts scattered as his lips pressed to mine. Not softly. Not sweetly. Like he’d been yearning for that one kiss.
The heat that tore straight through my spine amplified with each touch. His tight grip on my jaw, the other hand sliding down the wall and gathering my waist, pulling me flush against him. The kiss was slow but demanding, giving me no quarter but to let him lead.
And fuck me, I melted into a pile of wetness.
Pulling him closer, I fisted my hands in his jumper tightly enough for the material to bite into my skin.
Heat curled low, building with each stroke of his tongue, his piney scent filling my every panted breath.
I gave an embarrassingly needy little moan, and he swallowed it down like he was starving for it.
There was no teasing, no sunshine comments. Just his demanding mouth and the heat of his body pressed to mine. The soft sparkle of the nearby tree, which I hated a little less when being kissed halfway out of my own body.
Standing on my tiptoes, I gave in to the moment. Breathless and aching. Running my hands up over those deliciously veined arms.
When he eventually pulled back, I had to grip the wall to stay upright.
His forehead rested briefly against mine, his breath hot over my damp and swollen lips.
And then reality punched through my wanton haze.
Someone could walk in. A client could come down and find the gardener pinning me against the wall and snogging like a bloody teenager.
I slipped out from between him and the wall, straightening my top and tucking the escaped strands of my hair behind my ears.
‘Right. That was. Well. Yes.’ I stepped toward the stairs and felt heat fill my cheeks.
Henry’s mouth twitched, amusement dancing in his eyes.
‘Don’t freak out, Amanda.’
‘I’ll see you in the morning,’ I blurted out, turning and making my escape up the stairs, praying I didn’t slide on my ass in my haste. I didn’t dare look back. If he gave me one more of those smouldering looks, I might forget every rule I’d ever made for myself.
My bedroom door clicked shut behind me, a barrier of safety between me and my goddamned horniness.
Henry has unleashed my very tightly contained self and all I wanted was to go next door to his room and make him deal with what he’d done.
But kissing him at work was bad enough; climbing into his bed would be a very stupid thing to do.
And I don’t do stupid things.
No matter how much I desperately wanted to ride his stupid, happy fucking face.
So I did the next best thing.
Abandoned my underwear and grabbed my vibrator.