A Hamilton Family Christmas - Donna Kauffman Page 0,22

sending me on wild goose chases wasn’t working, so…”

He realized what she meant, and realized he shouldn’t be insulted. She couldn’t be blamed for thinking exactly that. Besides, she didn’t know him. Still, it stung that she didn’t think his interest in her was sincere. But, just to clarify things, he said, “So, you think I’m trying to seduce you. As a means of distraction. Or as some kind of persuasion, so you won’t call my uncle.”

“Yes. Maybe you don’t even realize you’re doing it, maybe it’s second nature to you, but it’s not to me. It’s—”

Now he cut her off. With a kiss. His hand was fisted in her curls, finally, and he drew her mouth to his. There was nothing aggressive about the kiss, or threatening, or even demanding. But she was right about one thing, it was intentionally seductive. Because he definitely wanted to taste her, and he wanted her to like it. Beyond that, he didn’t much seem to care where it got him, or what it got him. It wasn’t about that. He just wasn’t quite sure he’d ever get her to believe that. Not when he couldn’t quite believe any of this himself.

But not because she wasn’t worthy. He didn’t think in those terms. He didn’t believe this was happening, but that was because he’d come there looking for one thing. One very specific thing. And, it appeared, had found something else entirely.

She froze at the contact of his mouth on hers, and her lips—those lips—didn’t open beneath his. “Trevor,” she said, against his mouth, the soft friction making him groan a little.

“This isn’t a game,” he said, meaning it, though he knew she had no reason to believe him. “I just—I’ve been dying to do this since we met in that hallway.”

She pulled back enough to look at him. “I may not run in your circles, but don’t insult my intelligence.”

His hand was still in her hair, her lips were still tilted up to his, and his gaze searched out hers. His body raged at him to take that mouth again, until it was pliant and open beneath his. “What circles do you think I run in?”

“Hamilton ones. Privileged ones. Ones that think nothing of toying with people to get what they want.”

“That’s not remotely who I am.” He lowered his mouth again. “I know you can’t know that, but that cliché couldn’t be further from the truth of me. I don’t assume anything with you, or anything else. I just know you fascinate me, and I want to kiss you, taste you, know more of you.”

“Because I’m standing in the way of you getting what you want. That’s the only reason you even noticed me. If we’d met anywhere else—”

“I’d have noticed this.” He wrapped his hands more deeply in her never-ending mass of curls. “And these.” He dipped in and dropped a hard, fast kiss on those lips. Then he looked into her eyes. “I’d have noticed you, even if you’d never spoken to me. I don’t know what I’d have done about it, but I’d have noticed.”

She stared into his eyes, and he hoped she saw the truth there.

“Then you did speak to me. And you didn’t pull any punches, even after you found out who I was. Maybe even more so. I’m not used to that, and you can’t possibly know how refreshing that was.” He edged closer to her. “How much more attractive that made you to me.”

“Because I didn’t suck up to you?”

“Or come on to me.” A grin edged his lips upward. “Though I did notice you looking at me. A lot.”

Even in the dim light, he could see her cheeks actually pinked, which, considering how direct a person she was, intrigued the hell out of him.

“Normally the staring is a signal for me to run and run fast.”

Now she frowned. “Because…?”

“Women who stare are usually formulating strategies. Strategies that have a lot more to do with my last name and supposed bank account than about me personally.”

“I wasn’t—wouldn’t—”

“I know,” he said, his smile widening. “You just looked. Honestly, openly, and pretty frankly.”

“I didn’t think you saw. I’m sorry if you felt…I don’t know, demeaned? You’re right, I don’t know you. I am shallow enough to say I liked what I saw, so I looked.” Now her lips quirked. “Maybe a lot. You’re also right that there was no game plan. I had no intention of following through on…” She trailed off, apparently realizing she was