The Mix-Up (Southern Hearts Club #3) - Melanie Munton Page 0,67
my friends, so they can’t see what’s brought on this odd reaction in him.
My mouth quirks. “You say I’m insubordinate, boss, but even you have to admit I follow orders every now and then.” Like when you told me yesterday to wear this baby the next time you see me outside of work. “I just pick and choose my moments.”
His eyes fill with heat.
Static silently crackles and pops in the air between us.
Quinn clears her throat. “What a fun work environment.”
Visibly shaking himself, Ryder finally breaks our eye contact to shoot her a wry grin. “As you can see, it’s never boring with this one.”
I curtsy. “Such is my curse.”
I take a huge sip of my punch until my cheeks bulge. Then swallow it all down in one audible gulp.
Patient needs 20 ccs of liquid courage, doc. STAT.
I won’t allow Ryder to knock me off kilter. Not tonight. No siree.
“If you’ll all excuse me, I have an appointment with the bartender.” I place my empty glass onto a passing server’s tray. “Try to entertain yourselves while I’m gone.”
Carter chuckles over the top of Sloane’s head. “Gee, that’s asking a lot, Gretchen. However will we survive?”
“How did people entertain themselves back in your day? Kick the can? Maybe you can find some marbles and string around here somewhere.” I pat him on the back. “Well, I’m sure you’ll figure something out, old man.”
Sloane playfully flips me off while Carter just shakes his head and laughs. He’s gotten used to my good-natured ribbing about the fact that he’s fifteen years older than Sloane. We all know how perfect he is for our homegirl.
As I leave our circle, I shoot Ryder a look. A message that can’t possibly be misinterpreted. Follow me right now or you’ll regret it.
Making my way across the patio, I say my hellos and engage in the appropriate small talk in an effort to not make my exodus appear too hurried. And desperate. It’s hard, though. I’m beyond the brink. I’ve had a plan culminating all night. I’ve just been waiting for the right opportunity to set it in motion.
But screw waiting.
As I enter the penthouse ballroom, I feel a looming presence behind me, stalking me. Good to know he can follow orders, too. I shuffle down the carpeted hallway of the hotel, my footsteps silent. Because his are just as silent, I can’t necessarily hear Ryder behind me, but I feel him. I know he’s there because my skin is tingling, the hairs on the back of my neck are prickling, and my heart is racing.
My attention catches on a sign ahead of me, next to the elevator: Stairs.
Bingo.
I shove open the heavy door and skirt my way down the first flight of stairs just as “Santa Baby” comes over the hallway speakers. Thankfully, the lighting in this stairwell is soft, rather than harsh. Sporadic sconces on the wall illuminate a path, though there are still intermittent shadows. The landing between flights happens to be shrouded in one of those shadows.
That’s where I put on the brakes.
Ryder’s steps are quick as they descend the stairs after me. Desire swamps me the closer he gets. My nipples pucker beneath my velvet top, my breathing turns choppy—
He clamps his hand on my shoulder and spins me around.
Backing me up against the wall, he slants his mouth over mine. Our groans of pleasure reverberate through our bodies and off the walls of this hollow space. Our tongues not only seek, they demand. They’re impatient. His swipes against my barbell, eliciting a deep rumble from his chest. If I didn’t know better, judging from his frustrated growling, I’d say he resents me for forcing him to go without any contact for an entire week. But dammit, it’s his fault that I’ve been starved for him. His fault that I’ve been on edge for the past seven days.
I tug on his hair, breaking the kiss. “Would you like your Christmas present early?”
His fingers explore the exposed skin of my stomach. “Depends on what I’m unwrapping.”
“Have you been a good boy?”
He licks his lips. “You tell me, Mrs. Claus.”
I forgot I still have on that damn Santa hat. I transfer it from my head to his, delighting when his eyes glaze over. “From what I’ve heard, you’ve been pretty bad.”
“That so?”
“Mm-hmm.” Hands gliding down his torso, I yank open his belt and tug down his zipper. “Lucky for you, though, I’ve decided to give you more than a lump of coal in your stocking.”