Chasing Christmas Eve

She wriggled against him some more, during which time he kept a tight grip on her because if he let her go, he was afraid of what she’d convince him to do. “You’re not yourself,” he said. “I don’t want to take advantage, but I’m only human—” He broke off on a groan when she squirmed some more, humming when she came in contact with the proof of what she did to him, cradling him in the wedge between her thighs.

God help him. She was sexy and cute and sweet all in one package, and she had some moves too. “Honey—” He broke off when his phone buzzed an incoming call.

Colbie pulled back, eyes at half-mast as she smiled up at him. “You taste really good. You should answer your phone, Spence. Maybe your mom or grandpa needs you.”

He didn’t bother to point out that his family wasn’t like hers. The Baldwins didn’t need each other. They worked very hard to be independent. Stupidly so. Plus they’d just seen his grandpa. The man was a menace but fine.

“Seriously,” Colbie said, her eyes so deep and earnest that he did what he’d told himself not to do again—he pulled out his phone and answered without looking at the screen. “Baldwin.”

“Spence,” a male voice said. “Don’t hang up.”

Spence stilled at the sound of Brandon’s voice, then backed away from Colbie and turned from her.

“We need to talk,” Brandon said.

“Sure. When hell freezes over.”

“Seriously, man. My boss wants a follow-up, and I know what you’re going to say but think about it. It could be really great for you too.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Spence said.

Brandon dropped the charm. “Look, I did you a favor with that article. I put you on the map with all the exposure.”

“We were friends. You knew I didn’t want any of it.”

“If we’d been friends, I wouldn’t have had to beg for the article in the first place. Look, you were the golden boy. A’s in every class. All the teachers loved you, whatever. You were untouchable, man, never needing anyone or anything. So yeah, you threw me a bone and then gave me a boring interview that you could’ve given any Joe Blow, big fucking deal. The real sign of friendship would be you giving me a follow-up.”

Spence actually laughed. “Do us both a favor, Brandon, and lose my number.” He disconnected the call and then, for shits and giggles, blocked Brandon’s number. When he shoved the phone away and turned back to Colbie, she was walking down the hall, clearly trying to give him privacy.

Which at the moment was the last thing he needed.

Chapter 19

#SonOfASeacock

Colbie walked into Spence’s bathroom. The brownies were starting to wear off, leaving her tired and feeling bad about Spence. She’d gotten accidentally high, and possibly a little obnoxiously sexually aggressive, and she’d forgotten their date.

“Son of a seacock,” she said, disrobing and then bending to pick up the clothes she’d left on the floor. They were wrinkled but they’d do, she thought, just as she heard Spence speak, his voice low and gravelly, like how it sounded whenever he was aroused. “And cock isn’t a bad word?” he asked.

Whirling to him, she caught the slow scan of his eyes, making her incredibly aware of what she was wearing.

Or rather, not wearing. “Body parts aren’t bad words,” she whispered.

His expression made her hot in very specific places that she now knew he could make very happy. He scooped up the robe and handed it to her.

“Sorry,” she said, clutching it to her. “I was just going to get dressed.”

His gaze locked in on something behind her and he groaned before coming toward her.

“The mirror,” he said, his voice still a full octave lower than usual, which meant it was almost inaudibly gruff as he pulled the robe from her fingers to wrap it around her shoulders, waiting while she slid her arms into the sleeves before he belted it for her.

She craned her neck, caught sight of the full-length mirror that had most likely afforded him a hell of a view, especially when she’d bent over, and grimaced. “Holy Hostess.”

He chuckled but his eyes were heated. Very, very heated.

“I left to give you some privacy for your call,” she said. “It seemed . . .” intense “. . . private.”

“Forget the call.” He stroked her hair from her temple. “You still hungry?”

She nodded, suddenly a lot sober and also a little unsure of herself and her footing here. She’d come on pretty strong, and yet he hadn’t made a move.

But in the times that they’d been together, it’d all been magic and she wanted more of that magic. She’d hoped they’d continue to enjoy her last week in town to full capacity, but maybe he didn’t feel the same way. She didn’t realize she’d spoken that last part aloud until he spoke.

“Colbie. Look at me.”

Nope. She didn’t want to do that.

He pulled her in against him, slid his fingers into her hair, and tugged her face up to his.

She tried to pull away but . . . “Oh,” she breathed, feeling him hard as a rock against her.

“Yeah, proof positive. I want you so bad that I no longer have any blood left in my brain. By now you know that I’m not any more experienced at this navigating relationship stuff than you are, right? So maybe you could have some mercy on me for being a fumbling idiot. I was trying to be a good guy tonight.”

She found a laugh and he stared at her, the corner of his mouth quirking slightly. “You think my condition’s funny?” he asked.

“No, I think we’re both idiots.” She went up on tiptoes and kissed him. “I understand your restraint and while it’s admirable, there’s something you should know.”

“What’s that?”

“I want you to take advantage of me.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed into him. “And I want it bad too. I get that the proof of my wanting isn’t as . . . evident as yours, but I’m quite certain you could find it if you searched hard enough.”

She was pretty sure he stopped breathing at that. And so did she. A moment ago, he’d taken a call that had plummeted his mood about a hundred degrees. She was hoping to turn that around for him. Slowly, she slid her hands beneath his shirt, feeling the hard planes of his abs, which made her quiver. Yum, and she paused, thinking north or south? Both, she decided, but once again he sucked in a breath.

“You’re still under the influence,” he said, voice very strained.

Poor baby. “So heroic and gentlemanly,” she murmured. Sweet, but not necessary. She was a big girl, and she was also a careful girl. But she needed this. Needed him. “I’m running at full capacity, Spence,” she promised, humming in pleasure when his hands went to her hips to rock them against his.

“How do you know?” he asked, voice not quite steady when her fingers continued to map his body . . .

“Well,” she said thoughtfully, “I could prove it by walking a straight line or singing the alphabet or . . .” she ran her fingers down the front of his button-fly Levi’s “. . . getting you to talk about the phone call that seemed to bother you.”

“Okay,” he said, catching her hand in his. “So you are sober.”

“Yep.” Again, she went up on tiptoes, putting her mouth to his ear. “And extremely turned on. Take advantage of me, Spence? Pretty please?”

He held on to her hands and met her gaze. “By my count, you have one week left here in San Francisco.”

This surprised her. He’d been keeping track. “Yes.”

“And we’ve knocked out everything on your list. Except for number ten.”

She stilled, her body quivering. “Number ten?” she asked, like she wasn’t clear what he was talking about.

His hot glance said nice try. “You remember. The wild, passionate, up-against-the-wall, forget-your-own-name love affair that makes you weak in the knees when you think about it.” He smiled. “But a short love affair, really short, because you don’t have time or energy to keep that level of sex up, much less maintain a relationship.”