Page 11 of Baby, it's Cold Outside
Laura sighs dramatically. “What am I supposed to say to this girl if she shows up hoping to meet the man of her dreams?”
“Say Merry Christmas. Pass her the cheese plate.”
“You’re a big jerk,” she huffs. “I’m giving your present to somebody else. And if that girl shows up and she’s perfect, you’ll be sorry you’re not here.”
“I’ll take my chances,” I tell her. “Bye, sis. Sorry to miss the party. Give my apologies to Mom and Dad, and I’ll see you guys soon.”I end the call and hurry out of the bedroom.
The perfect girl is already mine tonight.
Five
HARLOW
Michael shuts the door to my bedroom, leaving me alone in the living room. I can’t help dancing around as I admire my tree and start hanging ornaments on its branches.
“I’m sorry I called you evil,” I tell it softly. “You’re the perfect tree, and I’m having the perfect night.”
Opening up a box of lights, I wonder who Michael had to call. For a second, a wave of fear rushes through me as I imagine him calling his girlfriend—or wife!—making up some lame excuse why he’s going to be home late. But before I panic completely, I remember that he said his sister is having a party tonight. He was probably calling her to say he can’t make it because of the weather.
Scolding myself for assuming the worst, I sing along with the soundtrack to the holiday romance on the TV as I unwind the lights. Not everyone is a two-timing asshole like my ex, and I have to get over it and start trusting people again—like the hot, sexy man in a suit who rescued me this evening.The one in mybedroom.
“Have yourself a merry little Christmas,” I croon loudly, even though I am a terrible singer and Willow says I really should not ever sing in public. “Let your heart be liiiiiiiiight.” I loop a strand of lights around my waist and toss one end over my shoulder, twirling in circles. “From now on our troubles will be out of sight.”
“Wow.” Michael shuts the bedroom door behind him, his expression amused. “That’s quite the vocal talent you have there.”
I laugh. “I happen to have many talents. Singing, alas, is not one of them.”
“I gathered that conclusion from the next room.”
“Everything okay?” I glance at the phone in his hand as he walks towards me.
“Everything is great.” He tosses the phone onto the couch next to his coat. “I am not expected anywhere else tonight.”
“Perfect.” I can’t keep the smile off my face as I twirl around, showing off the lights I’m wearing. “I was just about to test these and make sure they work.”
He puts his hands on my hips and pulls me closer. “Want me to try to turn you on?”
“Yes, please.” I lift my lips to his and he kisses me, and I would not have been surprised if every damn bulb on the string lit up just from the current between us.
His mouth moves down my throat, sending sparks to the farthest reaches of my body. His hands slip beneath my tank top and slide up my sides. His breathing grows heavier as his palms move down the back of my shorts and grip my ass. He pulls me against him, and I can feel how hard he is. My belly hollows, and my core muscles clench.
I reach down between us and run my hand over the warm, hard length of him, and my legs go weak. Is it wrong that I want this near-stranger to fuck me senseless tonight?
“How am I doing?” he whispers, his breath warm on my neck. “Are you turned on yet?”
“Um, yes—and then some.” I want to move into my bedroom, but I worry it might be too forward. Luckily, he’s not nearly so concerned.
“Think the tree will mind if we give it some alone time?”
“Not at all,” I reply, a little breathless. “Want to—”
But before I can finish my invitation, he scoops me up and carries me toward my room, throwing open the door and then laying me down across the foot of my bed. My heart pounds wildly as he closes the door, returns to the bed, and removes my glasses, setting them aside on the nightstand. I’m happy the lamp is on, so I can see him, but I’m still freaking out a little.
“I’ve never done this before,” I blurt. “Brought someone into my bedroom the first night I met him.”
“I’ve never done this before either,” he says, holding up one end of the stand of lights wound around my body. “Removed Christmas tree lights from someone in bed.”
“I’m a different kind of girl,” I tell him, giggling as he unwinds the string and drops it to the floor.
