Modern Fairy Tale Page 10

  “Fucking hell,” he murmurs.

  “Mm.” I kiss his neck, and then his cheek. “Good morning.”

  “The best morning I’ve had in a while.” He props himself on his elbows and smiles down at me. “How are you?”

  “Happy. Satiated. Not caffeinated.”

  He laughs and kisses me, then rolls away and rubs his hands over his face.

  “I do need to get up,” I say with a sigh. “I need to get my stuff together and go home now that my house is put back together.”

  “No way.” He snags me around the waist and pulls me against him again, holding me prisoner and making me giggle.

  “I do need clean clothes, you know. And I have some things to check on.”

  He sighs and kisses the ball of my shoulder, reawakening parts of my body that I would have sworn were satiated.

  “I know you have a life, and things to tend to,” he says. “But I only have two more weeks here. Spend your nights with me.”

  He turns me to face him, looking me in the eyes. “I want to spend every minute that I can with you. We’ll both be working during the day, but I want you here, in my bed, at night.”

  How in the hell do I say no to that?

  I don’t want to say no to that.

  So, instead, I kiss him and then wrap my arms around his neck and hug him tightly.

  Two weeks.

  That’s all we have, and then what?

  “I would love that.” I kiss his cheek again and then tear myself away. “But I do need some things from my house, and I need food.”

  “And coffee,” he says with a grin.

  I stand and look back at him. He’s still lying there, his arms crossed behind his head, looking all rumpled and fresh.

  Sexier than should be legal.

  “All the coffee,” I agree. “Oh, and I was going to tell you, the Christmas Stroll in downtown Cunningham Falls is tonight, and I’ll be going with Hannah and Brad. Would you like to come?”

  He’s still smiling.

  “You can wear a hat and a coat so you’ll be sort of disguised, and not a lot of tourists go to this anyway. It’s not supposed to be too cold. There’s food and vendors, and the shops are open with sales going on.”

  “It sounds like fun.”

  I smile, as excited as if he just said I won the lottery. “Yeah? Cool. I’ll even buy you a souvenir, so you have something to remind you of your time here.”

  His face sobers, and he reaches up, grabs my arm, and pulls me back into bed.

  “What did I say?”

  “Let’s not talk about when I leave anymore, okay?”

  “You brought it up.”

  “And I’m asking to drop it.” He kisses my forehead. “I’d love to go to the stroll with you guys. It’ll be great. And then I want to take you to bed and make love to you all night long.”

  “I’m going to be really tired after that.”

  He smiles and rubs his nose against mine. “I plan to keep you permanently tired.”

  “I’m a lucky girl.”

  Chapter Ten

  Jenna

  It’s chilly tonight, but the cold air feels good against my cheeks. The air smells fresh, with a hint of hot cider coming from one of the vendors.

  “So, they block off Main Street for this,” Christian says, munching on a cookie.

  “Yep. Don’t you feel like a rebel, walking down the middle of the street?”

  He smiles down at me. “If this is as rebellious as you get, I think you’re going to be just fine.”

  “Are you teasing me?”

  “Oh, yeah,” he says with a laugh. His ski instructor, Chad Holmes, waves at us from across the street then jogs over to join us.

  “Hey there.”

  “Hi, Chad.”

  “Jenna, you have to see this,” Hannah says, pulling me away. I leave Christian and Chad to their conversation so I can check out the clothes racks that Willa’s pulled outside of her shop, Dress It Up. “Look at this dress. It’s fifty percent off.”

  “It’s totally your color.” I run the green cotton through my fingers. “And it’s so soft. You have to snag it.”

  “You’re right.” She throws it over her arm, and we continue to thumb through the racks.

  “Hello, ladies,” Willa says as she comes outside carrying a tray of plastic champagne glasses full of sparkly, bubbly goodness. “I know others are serving hot wine, but come on. We need bubbly.”

  “Can’t argue with that,” I agree and take a glass.

  “I’m on call tonight,” Hannah replies. “With my luck, someone will go into labor, and I’ll have to jet.”

  “I brought you the non-alcoholic variety,” Willa says with a wink, pointing to one of the glasses. “Just for you.”

  “You’re the best,” Hannah says with an excited little dance. “And you’ve seriously outdone yourself here, Willa. Your shop is gorgeous, all decorated up for the holidays.”

  “I love Christmas. After the accident, I didn’t want to celebrate it anymore, but I have a little boy who loves the wonderment of it all, so we do it up big.”

  “Good for you,” I reply and then watch her eyes widen. I feel Christian walk up behind me, can feel the heat from him against my back. “Willa, this is Christian Wolfe.”

  “Not a doppelganger, then,” she says with a laugh and accepts his outstretched hand to shake. “I’m Willa. Nice to meet you.”

  “Likewise,” Christian says with a nod.

  “This is Willa’s store, and it’s absolutely brilliant,” I say as Hannah excitedly holds up another find. “You need that.”

  “I totally do.” She passes all of her finds to Brad, who’s also joined us.

  “Are we getting all of this?” Brad asks.

  “Yep. You’re my Sherpa.”

  They both laugh as they move inside to keep shopping, and Willa offers Christian a glass of champagne.

  “Let me know if you need anything,” she says and gives me a look that says we need to talk about this STAT.

  I wink at her and sip my bubbly, turning to the man himself. He’s in jeans and boots, has a grey ski jacket over his layers to keep him warm, and a grey hat. His face is still a bit stubbled, and I want to reach up and tickle it, but I don’t.

  No affection in public.

  So far, only people he has actually met and my friends have approached us. I don’t know if anyone else has recognized him, but if they have, they’ve left us alone.

  It’s freaking awesome, and as every minute passes, I can feel him start to relax. His broad shoulders have dropped a bit, and he’s quick to smile.

  His eyes still shift a little, taking in our surroundings, but he’s paying attention to conversations around us rather than focusing on the crowd.

  “Is that the Willa you referenced when you were talking to Max the other day?” he asks.

  “Yep.” I watch her make her rounds, offering drinks and advice to her customers. “I’ve known her since we were toddlers. She’s a year older than me, and she and Max were an item all through high school.”

  “It’s cool that you’re still friends.”

  “There are days I like her better than I do Max,” I say with a laugh. “And, frankly, I never would have chosen between them. There weren’t sides to take, no one did anything wrong necessarily. Except, my brother is stupid.”

  “He must have broken it off.” He takes my empty glass and sets it and his on a table that Willa set out just for that.

  “He did. He wanted to go away to college and see the world, and for Willa, her world was right here in Cunningham Falls.”

  Christian nods. “Shall we stroll?”

  “We shall.” We walk down the sidewalk, checking out food being sampled or sold, looking over knickknacks and listening to music. “Thank God you don’t touch me in public.”

  His gaze whips down to me. “What? Why?”

  “Because knowing you, you’d whisk me into a dance, right here on Main Street in front of most
of the people I know, and I can’t dance.”

  “You can, too,” he says, shaking his head. “And you don’t know that I’d do that.”

  “You’re already tapping your toe and nodding your head. You want to dance.”

  A slow smile spreads over that handsome face. “I could dance with you here.”

  “Nope.” I laugh and adjust my hat. “You don’t do that in public, so I’m safe.”

  Is that hurt in my voice? If it is, it’s ridiculous because I definitely don’t want to dance with him right here and now.

  But I’d love it if he held my hand or put his palm on the small of my back.

  Or something.

  But this is Christian, and he’s careful. And I need to respect that, even if I don’t love it.

  “Look at me.”

  I comply. The fire roasting chestnuts to our left is reflected in his eyes, over his face. It’s warmer here, and not just because of the flames.

  “Hey, you two!”

  We’re interrupted by Ed, the owner of Ed’s Diner, and the moment is lost.

  “Hi, Ed.” I smile at the older man as he claps Christian on the shoulder. “They let you get away from the food truck for a bit?”

  “I don’t actually man it much these days,” he says with a smile. “I have people for that.”

  “You let someone else touch your grill?”

  “A man has to retire sometime,” he replies with a wink. “How are you two?”

  “We’re enjoying the festivities,” Christian replies. “And I have to thank you for that delicious breakfast the other day.”

  “You’ll have to visit us again. I promise there won’t be a repeat of last time.” Ed smiles kindly. “You two have a good evening.”

  He walks away, and I nudge Christian with my elbow. “Look at you, turning into a local. You know almost as many people here as I do.”

  “I think that’s an exaggeration,” he says with a laugh as we continue walking down the street. “But I do like the people here.”

  “It’s a nice town,” I agree. “And I’m not just saying that because I’m biased.”

  “You’re biased,” he says and nudges me now. “But you should be.”

  I shrug and glance down at my feet. Suddenly, Christian takes my hand, surprising me, and pulls me to the edge of the sidewalk, pressing my back to a column.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Look up.”

  Mistletoe.

  I raise a brow. “Well, look at that.”

  He leans in, his eyes trained on my lips. I wet them as he slides one hand to my hip and the other cups my cheek, his thumb circling the apple.

  “I want to touch you everywhere,” he whispers. “Even in public.”

  And with that, he presses his lips to mine. He doesn’t deepen the kiss, but he doesn’t pull away in a quick peck either.

  And I swear to God, the earth falls out from under me.

  After what feels like minutes, but is only a couple of seconds, he pulls back and smiles down at me.

  “Let’s go home.”

  * * *

  He kissed me, in front of the whole town of Cunningham Falls. Granted, I don’t think more than a handful of people saw it, but he did it all the same.

  And it made me feel special. Important.

  That’s all I ever wanted.

  It’s the next morning, after a long night of intense love-making, and I’m in the kitchen of my house in town, getting breakfast underway while Christian takes a shower.

  If I let myself dwell on the fact that Christian is naked and wet in my bathroom, I won’t get anything done, so I turn on my favorite Spotify playlist on my phone, connect it to the speakers that I have wired through the whole house, and set to work while dancing to Ed Sheeran.

  “I’m in love with the shape of you…”

  I’m singing under my breath as I crack eggs into a bowl and whisk them up, then do a little sashay to the fridge for some milk and butter.

  Knowing that I’m alone, I let my hips move, shake my shoulders, and do a little bounce back to the bowl of eggs.

  “Wow.”

  I jump and spin, letting out a surprised squeak.

  “Oh, you startled me.”

  “I’m so proud of you. Look at you, dancing and everything.”

  “I didn’t know I had an audience,” I reply, my hand pressed to my chest, willing my heart to slow down, but Christian’s looking at me as though he’d like to eat me alive, and that’s not something that’ll slow down a girl’s heart rate.

  He’s in sweatpants that are slung low on his hips, showing off that sexy V and his abs because the man isn’t wearing a shirt.

  “I love this song,” he says, slowly walking to me, in the rhythm of the music. His hips are moving now, and he holds his hand out for mine.

  “No.”

  “Don’t stop now,” he says and pulls me into his arms, then spins me out and back to him. But it’s not like the dancing we did before.

  His posture isn’t perfect. He’s not holding me at a respectable distance.

  No, he’s all over me, moving around me, his hips and shoulders pressed to mine as he spins us in a sensual dance that has my nipples perked up and my clean panties soaked.

  He turns me and presses his front to my back, still turning us in circles, but now he can press his mouth to my neck, just under my ear.

  “I’m in love with your body…”

  Truer words have never been spoken.

  Or sung.

  “See what happens when you let your body go?” he asks against my skin. “When you forget to worry about if you look silly? You don’t, by the way.”

  “Next to you, a professional dancer?”

  He kisses that sensitive spot, just under my ear.

  “It doesn’t matter, Jenna. Doesn’t matter if you’ve been to a thousand dance classes or none at all, as long as you feel the music and the person you’re dancing with.”

  He turns me back around to face him and cups my cheek, just the way he did last night and lowers his lips to mine. He doesn’t miss a step, still moving us about the kitchen.

  And I’m completely intoxicated by him, caught up in the way he moves, the way he smells, and absolutely enraptured by the way he’s looking at me.

  “Just watch my face, feel my body. No matter how we’re dancing. Fast, slow, or even having sex, that’s the trick.”

  “There are tricks to sex?”

  He laughs and twirls me effortlessly.

  “I’m not going to teach you to count steps. It’s not fun, and you won’t ever have to use it.”

  “No? What if I’m called to be the lead in a dance recital?”

  His lips twitch. “Does that happen often?”

  “We don’t know. It could happen.”

  “Well, if it does, I’ll be happy to be your private coach,” he replies, wiggling his eyebrows. “And I’ll be in the front row, cheering you on.”

  “Like a dance mom,” I agree, nodding with sarcastic enthusiasm that makes him bust out laughing. But then he pulls me close into a tight hug as the song changes to a slow P!nk song, and he slows our movements with the beat of the music.

  “I don’t want you to think that I don’t want to touch you when we’re not in our bubble,” he says, holding my gaze intently. He leads me to the kitchen table, boosts me onto it, and cages me there, his hands on either side of my hips. He’s gone from playful to intense in two-point-six seconds.

  “Christian, it’s okay.”

  “No.” He bumps my nose with his. “It’s not okay. I don’t ever want you to feel that you’re insignificant or less than. That you’re not important.”

  I feel tears prick my eyes, and I reach up to brush them away, but he beats me to it and then kisses the outer edges of my eyes.

  My God, I love him so much my heart aches with it.

  “Neither of us deserves it,” I whisper, pressing my hands to his sides. “It’s not just me.”

  �
�I know,” he says. “I’ll figure it out, and I’m apologizing for the mess that is my public life. We should eat. I need to talk to you.”

  “The eggs are ready; all I have to do is whip up the omelets.”

  “That easy, huh?” he asks as he pulls away, and I jump off the table.

  “It is pretty easy, actually.”

  He makes himself a cup of coffee as I get the omelets underway, and when we’re sitting at the table, digging into our food, he looks up at me in surprise.

  “This is really good.”

  “I wasn’t going to serve you something that isn’t good.”

  He laughs and takes another bite of his eggs. “Now that I know you’re this good of a cook, I’ll coerce you into cooking for me more often.”

  “I’ve cooked for you several times.”

  He grins that cocky, confident smile that makes me want to lean in and kiss it right off him.

  So, I do.

  And when I pull away, I’m satisfied to find that his eyes have dilated, and he’s breathing just a bit harder.

  “Okay, what do you want to talk about?” I take a bite of my toast, then reach for the strawberry jam my mom made last summer when she and Dad were here from Arizona.

  “My job.” He takes a sip of coffee out of my Sorry I’m late, I didn’t want to come mug.

  It makes me giggle.

  “My job is funny?”

  “No, that mug is funny. Sorry. Talk to me.”

  “The press is vicious,” he begins, as calmly as if he’s chatting about the eggs on his plate. “They spin stories, and they make everything look like a scandal. I wore Adidas rather than Nike? Well, shit, my Nike contract must be over.”

  “Do you have a Nike contract?” I ask.

  “No, that’s just an example.”

  “Gotcha. But if you do get a Nike contract, hook a girl up.”

  He shakes his head, watching me with a crooked smile. “You’re not taking this seriously.”

  “I am.” I push my empty plate away and reach for my Please do not pet the peeves mug of coffee. “Christian, I spoke with Natalie the other day, and I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. Your career is important to you, just like mine is to me. I respect it, and even if I don’t always agree with it, I will always respect it.

  “That means that I also have to take a lot of it in stride, and I need to trust you. Nat told me some horror stories about the press and Luke, and she also spoke some truth to me. I’m not a jealous woman, and I’m not irrational.”