Page 89 of Merry Christmas, You Filthy Animal
“What?” I glance at the shack, but it seems like all the others.
He tugs me to the right and then points up.
I look toward the overhang, and of course, there’s more mistletoe.
When my eyes meet his, he’s smirking, and God, I can’t resist it. I don’t even know what’s happened tonight. I went from not liking him to awkward encounters to kissing himunder mistletoe. Not sure how that all happened, but here I am, standing on my toes to reach him better as his lips gently press against mine.
It’s short and brief like the others. There’s no holding the back of my head, keeping me in place, or open-mouth action. Just a brief kiss, but it packs one of the biggest punches to the gut that I’ve ever felt. Like a zap of electricity pulsing through me.
It’s been like that all night.
With each kiss, I’ve felt more connected, more desperate... more guilty.
“Max, your order,” a man calls out.
Atlas moves away and grabs our drinks; then he hands me one. “Warm those lips up. They’re a little cold.”
“Why? Do you expect to run into one more sprig of mistletoe before the end of the night?”
“You never know where you might find one.”
“Are they hiding in your pocket? Is that how they keep showing up?”
“If they were, we’d have had more than three kisses tonight, that’s for damn sure.”
I feel my cheeks flush, despite the chilly weather.
With his hand on my lower back, he guides me toward an empty bench on the perimeter of the park, offering a stunning view of the lights bouncing off the mountain right behind the river.
“So how did Cupid Christmas treat you?” he asks before taking a sip of his drink.
“Well, I thought I was hanging out with Storee, and instead, I kissed the enemy.” I smirk. “Kind of liked it.”
“‘Kind of’?” he asks, his brows shooting up. “Only kind of?”
“Yes, because I fear if I say that I really liked it, you’ll gloat, and I don’t think I can handle the gloating.”
“I’m not the kind of guy that gloats.”
“Oh please, Atlas.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, you’re right. Best to keep me humble.”
“Something we can agree on.”
“Yes, the one thing.” He sips his cocoa but keeps his eyes on me.
“What?” I say, feeling my cheeks blush again.
“Nothing.”
“No, you can’t get away with that. What were you thinking?”
“Ah, you know, just how when I first saw you, that brief glimpse of time before the Pepsi bottle hit my head, I never would have thought that I’d be sitting on a bench, having a normal conversation with you.”
“Another thing we can agree on, because as you were being driven off in the back of a cop car, I never would have thought that I’d end up kissing you three times in one night.”
“And here we are now. I think some people call that growth.”
