Page 70 of The Best Christmas Choir Ever

She put gentle pressure on his neck, dragging him down into a kiss. “Then stay with me.”

Fourteen

Julian

Stay with me.

Charlie’s words surged through him, carried through his veins like liquid fire. Heat spread from the top of his head, coursing down through his limbs, and he knew the only thing that would quench the burn was to touch her. And he wanted to stay, wanted to reassure her that he was a steady presence in the storm of her complicated feelings.

Julian wrapped his hands around her waist, locking them behind her back as they pressed against the kitchen counter. He felt the pull of muscle as she stretched up on her toes, searching out his lips again. Julian lowered his head, making her search easy, and kissed her once, twice, three times.

Their plates rattled as they swayed, his hands shifting from the small of her back, down to squeeze her ass.

Charlie was all softness—the silk of her lips, the way she was draped in his arms—and he stroked his hands up, chasing the grooves of her spine like a ladder until he reached her neck. Then he sank his hands into her hair.

She groaned in response, her eyelids fluttering closed, and Julian grinned at the way her lips parted. At the color in her cheeks. And the way her chest heaved.

He kissed her again, flicking his tongue along her lower lip before catching her tongue and sucking it into his mouth, swallowing the sounds she made.

He liked all her little sounds.

It was a different kind of music.

One only he got to hear.

“I like it when you do that,” she said, barely opening her eyes.

He liked it, too. He’d always liked kissing her. They’d been good at it from the very start. “You’re really sure you want me to stay?”

“Very sure.”

“Then maybe we should move this somewhere more comfortable?” Kitchens could be fun, but he knew there was a pillowy sofa in the next room, and he’d hate to waste it.

Charlie gripped his hand tightly and tugged him toward the living room.

His eyes widened as he took in the space, half a laugh tumbling from his mouth. It looked like a Christmas-themed hurricane had blown through. Shreds of wrapping paper littered the floor, strands of ribbon dangled from the arms of the sofa, while red and green and gold bows sparkled from every horizontal surface. “What the hell happened in here?”

Charlie let out an oomph of acknowledgment. “I started wrapping presents for my parents and Gram when I got home, but then I got distracted and never got back to it.”

“Hate to break it to you,” Julian said, “but you might actually be really bad at gift wrapping.”

Charlie gasped, nudging him playfully. “Take that back. I am a gift wrapping artist. You’ve never seen such fine work.”

“There are shreds of paper everywhere. What gift wrapping artist shreds the paper?”

“I was making sure all my angles were right.”

“What angles?”

“You know,” she said, miming, “for folding in the end pieces.”

“I’m not sure you should be set free with gift wrap.” He leaned down to nuzzle her cheek.

“Take that back.”

“It looks like Christmas threw up in here.”

“It does not!” Charlie’s lips twitched as she glanced around. “Okay, maybe you’re right. Maybe I got a little carried away with things.”