Total pages in book: 10
Estimated words: 9281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 46(@200wpm)___ 37(@250wpm)___ 31(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 9281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 46(@200wpm)___ 37(@250wpm)___ 31(@300wpm)
I’m loving his take on all this. I sit up straighter. “And I didn’t sing show tunes in bed.”
His smile is a little naughty. “Again, not a problem. Good sex should make you sing and shout.”
I crack up. I do feel lighter and better. I’m about to say Thank you for listening when the bartender in the Santa hat calls out from behind the bar, “Who’s ready for a mistletoe moment for charity?”
Like the lighting festival, this event raises money for charity too.
I jerk my gaze toward the bar where there’s a red bucket on the counter. Carter and Rachel are there, smiling mischievously. On the side of the bucket, words in white say: Singles for Kisses.
Fisher and I both crane our necks to the ceiling. Oh. Wow. There’s a sprig of mistletoe above us.
My breath catches.
The other patrons grab bills then chant: “Kiss her, kiss her, kiss her.” Pretty sure Fisher’s cousin is chanting the loudest.
My heart speeds up. My skin tingles.
What the hell is happening to me?
Do I want to kiss Fisher? My long-time friend with sexy scruff and bright green eyes? The one with the strong body, and the killer arms?
And, just as important, does he want to kiss me?
He gives a casual shrug but there’s a smile on his lips that doesn’t look friendly. It’s a sexy smile. He looks like a man on a date. “It is for charity,” he whispers, and his rich, sexy voice sends a rush of heat down my back.
I don’t entirely know what to make of these new sensations, but now’s not the time for thought. It’s a time for action, and I give in to the moment. “Then be charitable,” I say, and wow, that came out flirty and sensual and inviting.
He leans across the table, then dusts his lips to mine. It’s a hint of a kiss, barely there, just a tease. And yet, I want more.
I want a kiss that lingers into the night. And then, this one does. For a few hot seconds, it’s real and delicious.
I want so much more of it. Of him. But then a bell rings, breaking me from this kiss trance.
As we separate slowly, the crowd cheers again, then stuffs bills into the bucket. “The cats and dogs thank you,” the bartender shouts.
I steal a glance at my friend. Fisher looks dazed.
I feel dazed.
Then he scrubs his hand across his jaw, and quietly but clearly says, “I could be your test subject.”
My brow knits. No way did he say that. “What?”
But he doesn’t relent as he holds my gaze. “If you want to know if you’re actually weird in bed. Or if you need lessons. I’d be a very good teacher.”
I freeze. Is he for real? “You’re hilarious,” I say with a bubbly, you’re so funny smile.
For a sliver of a second, he looks starkly serious, then he erases his expression and his face is full of friendly cheer again. “Good one, right?”
But when I go home that night, I can’t stop thinking about how much I want a lesson with Fisher.
And that’s a dangerous thought for our friendship.
5
THE SCARF DID IT
Fisher
As I turn the corner on Octavia Street, heading to Katie’s building the next night, the sparkling lights of the neighborhood holiday decorations twinkle in the trees and along the awnings.
They’re festive and fun.
And they are not, not, not romantic.
I hammer that reminder into my brain as I near her building. So what if we’ll be surrounded by thousands of little glowing lights tonight. After dark. In a garden.
No big deal.
Just because we’re going to a Christmas lighting festival doesn’t mean I’m stepping into one of those holiday flicks I always scroll past on my Webflix queue.
Fine, fine. I watch them sometimes.
But holiday flicks are like a bowl of popcorn. You can’t stop once you start. Even though most could use a little more sex.
I bound up the steps to Katie’s building, ring the buzzer, and wait for my friend.
“Coming!” Katie calls through the speaker.
I don’t even think about alternative meanings for that word.
All right. I do.
Just like I thought about it when I was in the shower thirty minutes ago, getting ready for tonight. I had to get my horniness out of my system, since the Webflix queue in my head definitely does not run family fare. The theater upstairs shows only filthy holiday flicks—fucking in front of fireplaces, and screwing under the stockings.
Someone should acquire my brand of holiday films that give new meaning to rocking around the Christmas tree.
A few seconds later, Katie’s shoes click down the hall of her building, heading toward the door. She opens it, and she’s looking…impossibly better than she did last night.
A pink scarf with snowflake illustrations on it is wrapped around her neck. Those soft brown strands of hair curl around her shoulders. Lip gloss shines on her lips. I want to kiss it off. Then, I want to learn exactly what she likes in bed and give it to her all night long.