Page 26 of Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree
“I’ll be fine. The guys told you?”
I nod. “Yeah. I didn’t know.”
My thighs are starting to protest the extended time on the balls of my feet, but I attempt to ignore their protests. I breathe a sigh of relief when Evan shifts to stand and tugs me up with him.
“It’s not something I talk about.”
“I figured.”
Does he realize his hands are on my hips? Or am I the only one hyperaware of the connection that exists between us?
“I’ve been this way for as long as I can remember. Since those little performances in elementary school—do you remember those?” he asks but doesn’t wait for my response. “Maybe you didn’t do them.”
“I didn’t,” I admit. “But I had recitals.”
Recitals where nearly every student had someone in the audience to cheer them on. The only time that happened for me was when Aunt Sarah was in town.
“Were you ever nervous?”
I shake my head. “I can remember wanting to do well, but more to prove my worth to my parents so maybe they would come to one of my recitals, but I don’t think it was nerves.”
It was the desire to be loved. To gain their attention.
“Princess.”
He tugs on my hips until I’m pressed against him, his lips searing against my forehead in a kiss that overwhelms my whole body. Maybe this sweetness should confuse me after the heat of the kiss in the elevator. But it doesn’t. It gives me insight into who he is. He’s intensity and he’s tenderness. And I’m in danger of falling head over heels for this man instead of only lusting after him.
Stepping back, I clear my throat, but he doesn’t let me get too far, refusing to loosen the hold he has on me.
“Enough about me. What about you?” I ask.
“What about me?”
“How do you get ready for shows? What can I do to help?”
His hands flex against the leather covering my hips. Given the distracted look on his face, the motion was likely involuntary. But the way his thumbs immediately rub against my hip bones contradicts that notion.
“It usually goes away on its own.”
“When?” I bite my lip to hold back a moan when he realigns our lower bodies and presses his erection against my stomach.
“The end of the first song.” His voice drops to a murmur while he zeros in on my mouth.
“So you just—what—are like this until then? Nothing helps?” My question is breathy, my lips tingling under his scrutiny and my lungs laboring to breathe normally.
There is no normal. Not with him.
So why am I fighting against this? And how did we go from concern and empathy to this fire so quickly? Regardless of how, I’m tired of thinking about it. It’s time todosomething.
Time to claim your coal, Lilah.
I drag my hands up his arms and loop them around his neck, pulling him down until we’re breathing each other in.
“There’s something I haven’t tried. Maybe you could help me,” he says.
“What’s that?”
“Maybe all I need is a good distraction.”
