The Plight Before Christmas(84)

“You can’t just kiss me, Eli,” I whisper, my argument pathetically weak.

“I just did, and you kissed me back, and it felt fucking amazing.” There’s not a trace of remorse in his expression. My gaze lowers to his mouth as he wets, then sucks his lower lip as if savoring my taste on his tongue. My entire body continues to thrum with need as he glances around to make sure we weren’t seen. Thankful that’s the case, and shaken to my core, I move to step around him, and he stops me with a firm grip on my hip, his thumb gently gliding along it.

“Don’t,” he shakes his head. “Give me one minute. Sixty fucking seconds, Whitney.”

“To what?”

“To enjoy how good that kiss was before you try to convince yourself you lost some inner strength for taking part in it. Trust me. It was a lot braver to let me kiss you than to cower away from it.”

My heart gallops as he lifts his hand and cups my face, running a thumb seductively along my lower lip before closing the space again and pressing another slow kiss to my parted lips. He drinks the remaining of his demanded seconds before pulling away, his eyes still closed. When he opens them, his expression hardens.

“What are you missing?” He says, resuming our argument. “Your own life.”

“Pfft, give me a break.”

“That’s what I’m asking you to give yourself. You fell apart in my arms the other night because you needed to. You can’t get back to you if you’re exhausting yourself worrying about everyone else.”

“Taking care of my family is not a chore for me.”

“It is if you’re already spread that thin.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re selfish. Have always been. Not that I expect you to understand this, but relationships take work and a hell of a lot of endurance. Thatch and Serena have been together nearly twenty years.”

“We’re not talking about them or me. We’re talking about you.”

“I’m fine.”

“Right. Okay,” he grits out. “Just more bullshit.”

“What exactly are you trying to do here?”

He gazes down at me, resolute. “Remind you that you’ve got your own shit to deal with at the moment and to stop being so hypocritical in thinking that Thatch and Serena are the only ones taking for granted what’s right in front of them.”

“So, what, now you’re a commitment man?”

“I’m the man that’s interested in you, who’s concerned about your well-being, who’s trying to remind you that at one point in time, your own fucking well-being mattered a hell of a lot to you as well.”

“It still does. I told you, it’s been—”

“A bad month, I heard that excuse.” He jerks his chin. “Next.”

“You’re such a smug bastard.”

“Maybe I am, and maybe I’m still a little selfish, but you haven’t changed much either—though I would like to see more of that fire back.”

“I haven’t lost it.”

His lips lift. “Getting there.”

“Stop it. You’ve observed me for four days. That doesn’t make you an expert.”

“Then help me,” he says softly.

“What?”

“Tell me what makes you tick these days, fucking talk to me. Tell me how to become an expert. I’ve approached this from every angle. Tell me how to get through to you.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Never been more so.”

“I’m not a problem to solve, and I’m not doing this with you.”

“Heard that bullshit too. You’re already doing this with me. If you’re not eye-fucking me, you’re silently relaying in some subtle way that you remember me—remember us. Or you’re leveling me with your mouth, or a single look, reminding me how much I hurt you. Trust me, you’re doing this with me and have been since the second I got here. You participated in that kiss, Whitney, and you want to be kissed again, right now. It’s written all over you. You’re just too afraid to admit it.”

“This is just convenient. You’re just—”

“Lonely…because it’s the holidays? I spent the last five Christmases alone and plenty before that. Next.” His stare zings through me. “Tell me to fuck off, tell me right now to fuck off for good, and I will. I was prepared to this morning, but when I tried to back off, it hurt you. It can’t hurt you if you don’t care. You do care.

“There’s still an insane attraction between us after all these years and it’s not just physical. You can keep mouthing off your assumptions and whatever you want about my intentions, or you can let me come out and tell you one more time for crystal clarity. I came to see you. I came to apologize for hurting you because I wasn’t man enough to admit I wasn’t ready for what I saw in your eyes all those years ago.

“I’m standing here, kissing you and telling you the mistake I made then was not giving you words—words you needed to hear. I wasn’t capable then. I’m not the same guy you broke up with, and our breakup has a lot to do with why. I’m standing here, seventeen years later, because I never forgot you—and in discovering you again—I want to know you, I want to kiss you. I also want to fuck some sense back into the bitter whiner who’s eating up my thoughts and turning me into the same restless guy who can’t sleep because you’re close to me.”