him from his clothes.
Unwrap him from his secrets.
I wanted to bare him to me so I’d feel safe baring myself.
His attention locked on me and his full lips spread to reveal the brilliant smile encased by those dimples that turned my mouth to sand and my lower parts into a hot pool of liquid.
“I’ve got to put the lights up on the tree for tomorrow.” He wiped his hands together, and I tore my eyes away as quickly from the sight of those forearms flexing as if he’d started to strip naked.
I’d noticed them bringing in the tree earlier. It was impossible not to.
The arbor was massive and the fragrant forest scent alone was enough to stop one in their tracks. But I’d forced myself to continue on my tasks, and now that I finally took a good look at the centerpiece of the lobby, my jaw dropped.
“You’re going to put the lights on that?” I exclaimed, my eyes flicking between him and the tree. “By yourself?”
It was massive. And massively full.
It was about as tall as the gingerbread house and though I’d never decorated a tree, I couldn’t imagine that stringing lights around this one would be a small feat.
“I do it every year,” he chuckled.
“You know, Santa isn’t a superhero,” I remarked smartly, though it was really worry that lay underneath the surface. “You could ask, oh, I don’t know, anyone who works for the hotel to help you.”
His eyebrows perked up. “Alright.” His easy agreement startled me. “Do you want to help me?”
I gaped and then quickly shook my head. “No,” I refused. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
My breath came out in a rush. “Can’t,” I assured him. “Did you not see my ornament? Did you not just have to save me from falling off one ladder?” My head shook with rapid determination. “Nope. With my luck, I’ll somehow manage to take the tree down and you with it. Probably right into my gingerbread house.”
He laughed with a warm sparkle in his eyes that caught like kindling in my lungs, and I couldn’t stop my own laughter from catching.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” I reiterated, though the time spent in his presence was the greatest danger I was concerned about.
“Don’t worry, I wasn’t going to let you back up on the ladder.”
My breath caught at the low, protective tone of his voice, decidedly harder and harsher than anything I’d heard him say before.
Goose bumps spun up my spine like tinsel and, once again, a question popped from my lips before I could stop it. “So, then how would I help?”
I folded my arms over my chest, as though I could physically hold back anything else I might say to reveal just how badly certain parts of my body wanted to stay and assist him.
“I need someone to hold the string of lights and keep them orderly.”
“Oh.” That sounded easy. In fact, it sounded completely un-mess-up-able. “I can do that.”
Oh, Holly...
“You sure?” He cocked an eyebrow and my stomach tightened with another gnaw of desire.
He was giving me a way out—an easy escape from one more Christmas thing I fought tooth and nail to avoid.
But, for once, I didn’t want to escape it.
And I didn’t want to escape him.
“Yeah.” I nodded, feeling my pulse pick up an unsteady pace. “You helped me. It’s only fair.”
His eyes darkened and, as I followed him over to the massive evergreen, giant boxes of lights and ribbon laid at its base, we both knew this had nothing to do with fairness.
“Alright, you good?”
I looked up, my eyes snagged in his bright gaze as he stood ready to climb the ladder. Meanwhile, my arms were held out like human spools for the twinkle lights draped around them.
“Are you sure they have to be lit?” I asked, hardly able to see my arms underneath the sea of sparkling lights.
He grinned. “I have to be able to see if any of the bulbs are out.”
I grumbled under my breath as he climbed the ladder, a trail of light leading from me to him.
“Don’t forget to keep an eye on the lights,” he reminded me. “They will get tangled up as soon as you aren’t looking.”
“Got it.” I stared down at my arms and shook my head. They weren’t going to get tangled; it was impossible.
“Thanks for helping.” He shot me a grin over his shoulder, the sight tightening the ache between my thighs. “I think every year, I spend at least an