Seriously. When was I going to remember he was a macho alpha Italian hothead and I needed to be cunning, not reactive? Though, this would likely necessitate me laying off the tequila and I liked my tequila.
He moved to my side, keeping his and my arm behind my back and marched me out of the ballroom at the Denver Performing Arts Complex where Hank and Roxie’s reception was taking place.
“Let go of me, Zano,” I hissed, partly humiliated (with only myself to blame; still, I blamed Ren), mostly infuriated.
“Not a chance.”
I yanked at my arm to no avail as he pushed us outside into the cold air.
Once there and with no one around and therefore not able to make a (further) scene, I wrenched my arm to get free, shouting, “Let go!” and found myself shuffled down the wide walkway, pressed into the side of the building with Ren’s mouth on mine, his tongue in my mouth and both his hands at my ass.
Hell.
This meant Ren was done fighting and ready for other things.
And this also meant Ren could nonverbally talk me into being ready for those other things.
This, in the cold Colorado December air, he did with mouth, tongue and hands.
He spent some time doing this. I spent that time enjoying it. And when his mouth finally lifted from mine, I was enjoying it so much I went after it to keep it.
When I didn’t get it back, my eyes slowly opened and I found my hands were under his suit jacket. One was pressed tight to the muscle of his back. The other was pressed tight to his hard ass.
Nice.
I also found his lips were quirking.
Annoying.
“That body isn’t mine?” he whispered.
I made no response and not just because I was breathing too heavily to speak.
“Least that mouth is.” Ren kept whispering.
I found my voice then.
“Kiss my ass, Zano,” I whispered back.
That got me a smile which meant Ren got a squeeze.
His smile got bigger.
My heart lurched.
“I can do that,” he stated.
I rolled my eyes even as my happy place quivered because he could, he had and I liked it when he did.
Still smiling, he bent his head and kissed my neck. Sliding his lips up to my ear, he murmured, “Let’s go home.”
Before I could say anything, he grabbed my hand and walked me quickly to his Jaguar (seriously, he was a bossy jerk, but his ride was sah-weet).
You will note, I didn’t protest.
Because I might have been guarding my heart.
But I was absolutely not guarding my body.
* * * * *
Christmas Morning…
I woke, naked, tangled up with Ren in his bed.
I had my face stuffed in the side of Ren’s neck, an arm thrown over his stomach and a leg thrown over his thigh.
He had an arm around me and the instant I woke, it tightened and his deep voice rumbled, “Merry Christmas, baby.”
I closed my eyes hard.
What the hell was I doing?
Just as quickly as my mind asked it, I decided Christmas day was not the time to explore that question.
I opened my eyes, and being a holiday person, a family person, and a person who found every reason possible to party and/or celebrate, I didn’t have it in me to lay down the boundaries during the most joyous day of the year.
Not with Ren close and his voice warm and rumbly on Christmas morning.
