Page 115 of Elf-ish

I shrug. The housewares department will forgive me. The items will only be used once.

Angelica bends forward to unlace her boots, and I toe off my shoes. My suit coat was removed hours ago, and my shirt sleeves are rolled to my elbows. I hold out my hand like I’m helping her step into a hot tub or a boat, or a sleigh of blankets.

We fold down to the pillows, and I reach for the champagne chilling in a stainless-steel bucket then pour each of us a glass.

Handing a flute to her, I hold up mine. “Merry Christmas, angel.”

“Merry Christmas, Jude.” She tilts her head. “I thought you didn’t celebrate?”

I don’t. But am I?

I chuff and lift my glass for a bubbly sip. I’m a man used to the finer things in life. Champagne. Fast cars. Expensive suits. But I’ve found more comfort and joy in a woman with a cozy apartment, a tempting freckle, and a loving extended family.

The champagne suddenly tastes bitter on my tongue, but I ignore it. Instead, I reach for a strawberry and hold it out for Angelica to take a bite. The fruit is huge, and red juice drips down her chin.

Nothing holds me back. I lunge for her, licking up the dribble and then thrusting my tongue into her mouth. The action nearly knocks her over, and she chuckles against my mouth.

“Whoa. Slow down.” She swipes at her lips while I lean back.

“I’ve told you I don’t know how to go slow.” But I also told her I wouldn’t ever love her.

Could she love me?

Angelica reaches around me and drags the tiered dessert-stand closer to us. She picks up a chocolate and holds it out to me. I take a hearty bite.

Her brow tips like she wants my assessment.

“Not as good as yours.”

“You’re a charmer.” She giggles.

Am I? Does she find me charming? Does she want to keep me?

The thought is too heavy, and I reach for a strawberry again, swiping it through the cream before holding it out for her mouth again. She leans forward for a bite, but I pull the fruit back.

“Tease.” Her eyes gleam in the glow of the Christmas tree.

I snort. “You’re the tease.” With her hair and her smile and her ease. I push the strawberry toward her again and watch as she takes another sensuous bite. She doesn’t realize how seductive she is. And with a drop of cream on her lip, I attack again, licking at the spot and then kissing her deeply once more.

She doesn’t laugh this time or pull back. Instead, she melts into the kiss until I’m pressing her backward. Once she’s on her back, I slowly unbutton her uniform shirt, revealing a tank top underneath. The shirt must go. The tank as well.

“Jude,” she glances over her shoulder, like someone will see us.

I tug her upright to remove her tops. “There’s no one here. Just you and me tonight.”

She glances back at me and then removes her uniform shirt on her own. I take over next, reaching for the hem of her tank and pulling it over her head, then pop off her bra and press her down again. Reaching for another strawberry, I swipe through the whipped cream once more and then paint a white streak down her neck.

Angelica tips back her head, and I lick at the sticky sweetness before releasing her and biting into the strawberry. My mouth fills with sweet nectar, and I lean forward to sip at one peaked nipple before moving to the other. Angelica’s hands come to my head, combing over the short hair and cupping the back of my neck.

I want to rush, while I want to savor every second I have left with her.

Like those spirits that visited dear old Scrooge, I’m afraid she’ll disappear when morning arrives. So, I take my time removing her pants, and eventually her panties, all the while painting her body with a combination of whipped cream and fresh strawberries.

Eventually, I drag the tip of the final fruit between her legs, which she easily spreads for me.

“You wouldn’t.” Her voice catches as the cold point of the strawberry nudges against her entrance.

“Wouldn’t I?” I love a good dare, but I sense her hesitation. Fruit is a hard limit.