Christmas By Design

13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Beckett

I’m walking a tightrope here. On one hand, I know that getting involved with this woman is going to make everything all kinds of complicated. On the other, I have never wanted anything in my life more than I want to taste her bottom lip as I draw it between my teeth.

Get a fucking grip , I tell myself as I pour two more glasses of whiskey. I eye them, take a large gulp of mine, then fill it a little more so it’s even with hers again.

When I rejoin her, the whiskey is starting to steady me. But she looks up at me with those fucking gorgeous green eyes, and you better believe I make damn sure my fingers brush against hers as I hand her the glass. The crimson color that rises on her cheeks is unmistakable even in the light of the fireplace.

I sit down, closer to her this time, and her lips part on an inhale as she turns to face me. I have as much resolve as any man, but she is testing it when she gives me looks like that.

“Jacob doesn’t pay you a salary?” I ask. I know full well he does, but I’m scrambling for a more neutral topic of conversation.

She blinks a few times, confusion evident in her features, but she recovers. “He does, but it’s small. I make bonuses on each project I complete. He doesn’t talk to you about the business?”

I shake my head. “He offered to make me a partner years ago, but I declined. I just want to design. That’s why I left my corporate job. To get back to what I love doing.” I study her for a moment as I consider what I’m about to say. “You want to get out of your parents’ house, so you needed this project because of the bonus. That’s why you wanted to work with me.”

She averts her gaze. “I already told you. I wanted to work with you because most of the other guys treat me like shit.”

“And you wanted an easy project.” I can’t stop the disappointment from seeping out into my words. I don’t know what I was hoping for. That she has harbored a secret crush on me since the start? Of course not. But it doesn’t stop the pang from hitting me straight in the chest.

“What were you expecting?” She echoes my thoughts. “You’ve never been particularly nice to me. I wasn’t dying to work with you, either. But you’re a decent man, Beckett. The more time I spend with you, the more I wouldn’t mind working with you again, for better reasons next time.”

It’s not the first time she’s used my full name instead of one of her stupid nicknames, but the sound of it goes straight to my dick. All I want is to hear her moaning it as I bury my head between her exquisite thighs. I adjust my legs so she can’t see what she’s doing to me.

“What about now?” I find myself asking. “Are you enjoying this as much as I am?”

That was a little more forward than I meant to be, but it’s out there now. We lock eyes for a heartbeat, and it’s the longest moment of my life before she slowly nods her head. “I’m glad I’m stuck here with you.”

The corners of my lips tug up into a smile, and hers follow. It’s like our lips are attached by strings, the way one smile begets the other.

“I’m not too old for you?” I tease.

“I’m not too much of a mom for you?” she counters.

I huff a quiet laugh. “I suppose we both have baggage.”

She folds her arms, which really just accentuates her chest, and I’m glad I moved my legs. “I consider mine a strength, not a weakness,” she insists.

“Mine, too.” My voice is low and husky. I’m doing a very bad job of hiding how much I want her.

She blushes again but doesn’t break eye contact with me. “How so?”

“You call it old. I call it experienced.”

“As long as we’re stuck here…” she trails off and drops her gaze to the glass in her hands. She visibly steels herself and looks me in the eye again. “You should prove it,” she taunts. And then she fucking licks her lips as if she knows what’s coming. As if she wants it.

I carefully set my glass down out of the way, slowly so she can’t see my hands shaking. I breathe deeply, then take hers from her and do the same. “Just as long as we’re stuck here,” I say. “Just tonight.”

Her breath hitches, and her eyes go wide, but she doesn’t look nervous. She looks excited. Anticipatory. Like she wants to scream, holy shit, this is actually happening.

“I think we owe it to ourselves.” Her voice is surprisingly calm. “Considering all the flirting.”

“We should get it out of our systems, probably,” I agree.

“Exactly.” She leans forward slightly, her eyes dark with desire.

I slowly brush her curls away from her face, scanning every inch and counting every freckle. No need to rush. We have all night for this, and if I can only have one night with her, I plan to take my time.

Her eyelids flutter closed, and she breathes in deeply. I trace my finger gently along her jaw, and she exhales a little whimper.

“You can keep those pretty eyes closed for now, Gemma,” I whisper, “but I want to see them open and watching me later.”

She gasps, and her eyes fly open. “Oh my god,” she moans. “Are you serious?”

I chuckle. “Not a fan of dirty talk?”

She swallows hard and shakes her head. For a moment, I’m pretty sure I fucked up by hitting the gas too fast, but she practically melts into the contact my palm is making with her cheek and breathes, “I’m very much a fan, but… say my name again.”

“Gemma,” I whisper, then lean in.