Chapter Nine #2
Wreaths here, stockings there, a collection of nutcrackers over the center of the dining room, and no fewer than four Christmas trees, each featuring its own color scheme.
I made a beeline for Drake and Adam, wanting to say hello and do a quick catch-up.
Venezio didn’t follow.
By the time I untangled myself, I’d worried that he’d taken me at my word and headed out.
Because I hadn’t exaggerated. There were servers moving around in full elf getups. And the Santa sitting on a captain’s chair? He was shirtless and greased up. His ear was getting tongued by a guy dressed in a moose sweater.
The music? Glitter pen holiday cheer.
The food spread? Impeccable as always.
I was just perusing the appetizers when a frosted glass appeared in front of me full of thick red liquid.
I glanced over to find Venezio standing there holding it.
The rush of relief I felt was almost embarrassing. As was the warm, gooey feeling I got from him getting a margarita for me.
“Thank you,” I said, my voice raised to be heard over the music. “What did you get?” I nodded toward his other hand as I took my drink.
“Think it was called a Stocking Stuffer.”
“What’s in it?”
“No fucking idea,” he admitted, shaking his head as he raised it to take a sip.
“Any good?”
“It’s strong,” he said as a half answer. “How’s yours?”
“Every bit as good as I was hoping,” I admitted, taking two big swigs.
I hadn’t been drinking much recently, and I knew the tequila was going to go right to my head. But just this once, I wasn’t going to care. I was at a party with my friends. A hot guy was at my side. I was just going to enjoy myself.
That was exactly what I did.
I ate.
I drank the margaritas Venezio kept supplying me.
The lowered inhibitions had me chatting up the charity each time I spoke to someone new, so I had a purse full of cash and checks, even if my vision was a little too bleary to make any of the numbers out.
That was tomorrow-me’s problem.
“Hey, you two!” Andy called, making Venezio glance over, saving me the embarrassment of having him see me nearly miss the table I was trying to set my empty glass on. “You’re under the mistletoe!”
The two of us glanced up in unison to see that, yep, Andy had absolutely herded us under the hanging bundle of fake greens with little red berries.
“You have to kiss!” she yelled, her face red with her own inebriation.
“It’s tradition,” Drake chimed in, shaking his head like he was apologetic when I had money on him and Andy being in cahoots.
“It’s bad luck not to,” Adam added. I was reasonably sure he was speaking out of his ass on that one.
“You don’t—”
I started as I glanced back at Venezio.
I didn’t finish my sentence.
Because one second, he was just standing there.
The next moment, his hand was on the back of my neck, fingers curling in a way that felt possessive. I watched the intention in his eyes for a split second before his lips were suddenly on mine.
There was a chorus of whoops from the other partygoers.
But when the kiss that should have been a peck didn’t immediately stop, everyone went ahead and returned to their own business.
I barely noticed them.
The whole world fell away the second his lips pressed to mine.
Because Venezio kissed exactly how I thought he would—hard and deep, borderline rough. His lips slanted over mine; his hand curved tightly around the back of my neck.
His teeth grazed, nipped, tugged.
His tongue traced, teased, claimed.
My whole body went liquid, languid.
I melted against him, clinging.
A low, throaty moan escaped me.
And that, somehow, was what broke the moment.
Venezio pulled back.
I swayed.
He held onto me until I managed to come back to my senses, until I gained my own feet again.
I wasn’t sure if it was embarrassment or arousal that had my cheeks flaming, but I kept my head ducked to save myself from him witnessing it.
I made my way down the hall into the bathroom, wetting a tissue and cooling my cheeks and neck.
I was still flushed when I made my way out, but I decided I could blame the margaritas if someone said anything about it.
Luckily for me, Andy was pretty wasted herself, as evidenced by her sudden willingness to grab the karaoke mic and do an entirely tone-deaf rendition of “All I Want for Christmas Is You” that a sober Andy would be endlessly humiliated about if videos ended up posted anywhere.
I didn’t see Venezio as I did a tour around the snack table, forcing myself to eat some chips to soak up a bit of the booze.
But then went ahead and accepted another margarita when Andy brought it to me. Then maybe let her talk me into singing “Santa, Can You Hear Me?”
I didn’t realize until we were dragging out the last line that Venezio hadn’t, as I thought, left after the kiss.
Oh, no.
He was standing back from the crowd, a bemused smile tugging at his lips as he watched us.
“We should put out a Christmas album!” Andy declared, half hanging on me. That was a bad idea because I was hardly any more stable than she was. The whole room was starting to shift back and forth.
“Sure to go platinum,” Sammy said, wrapping an arm around Andy. “I think we should be heading out.”
“But we’re having so much fun!” Andy insisted.
“Yes, but Meatball is probably missing us.”
“Oh, Meatball,” Andy said, her eyes going round and sad. “We’re coming, Meatball!” she called, making Sammy snort.
Andy stumbled forward with Sammy, knocking lightly into me. But with my equilibrium soaked in tequila, it was enough to send me stumbling.
“I got you,” Venezio said as his arm went around me, hauling me back onto my feet.
“My hero,” I said, giving him a bleary-eyed smile.
“Yeah, that’s me,” he said with a drawl, “hero of the fucking month.”
“Any chance you could help me get her home?” Sammy asked.
“I can walk!” I insisted, even as I leaned more heavily on Venezio.
“Yeah, I can take her home.”
I angled my head up at him, giving him a soft smile, then said words I was sure I would regret in the sober light of morning.
“Yeah, you can bring me home.”