Page 41 of Elf-ish

With my fist near my mouth, I stroke over my lower lip with my thumb, like I can still taste our kiss. Her eagerness. Her reciprocation. Her desire.

Once I stand in front of her, my mouth falls open, but I can’t conjure a compliment.

Breathtaking isn’t a strong enough word.

“Angel,” I squeak instead, the sound like a pre-pubescent teen.

“I’m sorry I’m late.” She smiles sheepishly. “I got lost.”

My brow arches, uncertain how she could have gotten tangled up in this rather straightforward hotel layout, but guilt hits me harder. For the second time, I’ve left her to find her own way to the party. My party. I swear I have better manners than I’ve exhibited, and I mentally promise to do better.

For now, I’m grateful she’s here. She’s my date. My fake girlfriend.

With her presence, a strange sense of relief washes over me. Like the warmth of that hot tub earlier, and the weight of her mouth against mine.

I can’t describe it. How strange and right, or strangely right, kissing her felt. Like I’ve been longing all these years for some Christmas present, and I’ve finally received the gift. It was even better than I expected.

Late. Lost. But finally, here.

Placing my hand on her shoulder, I swipe over the notch of bare skin and then along the velvety material covering her arm.

“You look like . . . a queen,” I state, still sounding like a bumbling teenager—tongue-tied, star-struck, horny as fuck.

“Thank you.” Her face pinkens, accentuating the freckles I’ve come to adore.

One, two, three, and that sacred fourth one, that I want to lick and nip before taking her lips with mine again.

Instead, I lean forward and press a kiss there, right at the corner of her mouth where that freckle almost meets her lip. The kiss is a stamp. She belongs to me.

Angelica’s breath hitches as I pull away, almost like she expected more from me, but I can contain myself. For a little while.

Slipping her arm into the crook of my elbow, like she did earlier, I lead her around the room, re-introducing her to board members from last night’s drinks and other important executive staff who were not present.

“Angelica, I’d like you to meet Maxine Kelsey, my personal assistant.” I offer Maxine a tight smile. “Maxine, this is—”

“The EMT who saved you,” Maxine cuts me off before I finish my explanation.

“Yes, ma’am,” Angelica offers Maxine a warm grin before leaning toward her and whispering, “Although I think his heart might still be a little broken.”

Maxine puffs out her lower lip like she agrees, but she’s shocked by Angelica’s assessment. “Jude? A broken heart? Nothing penetrates that frozen tundra.” Maxine offers a teasing laugh. If anyone knows I have an erratic heartbeat, it’s her. As my faithful assistant, she’s seen the ups and downs of my wrath.

“He’s all work, and then equal amounts of pay.”

“Pay?” Angelica tips a brow, looking from Maxine to me and back.

“Did I say pay? Slip of the tongue. The only one making a decent wage at Ashford’s is this one.” She hitches a crooked thumb in my direction like I’m not standing here, listening to my top employee complain about her paycheck.

“I meant play,” Maxine corrects. “I’d say he plays as hard as he works, but he hardly works. Sits behind that mammoth desk all day and shuffles papers.”

Maxine winks at Angelica, and I assume she’s joking.

“I bet he doesn’t just push papers,” Angelica states. “Sometimes, he probably stacks them. Neatly.” She laughs at her own joke. The sound is a riot among the quieter tones of the room.

Maxine smiles deeply at my date before turning to me. “I wouldn’t let this one get away,” my assistant says, hitching her thumb in Angelica’s direction now, like she isn’t standing there.

Wrapping my arm around Angelica, I tug her into my side and kiss her temple before saying, “I don’t intend to.”

Maxine’s dark eyes open wide and her mouth gapes as someone clutches at my shoulder. The hard squeeze is familiar and annoying.