Read Online Kiss Me on This Cold December Night by Charlotte Phillips - Free Book Online
Authors: Charlotte Phillips
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journey,â she said. âMerry Christmas.â
The lock clicked and she opened the door. With every slow motion moment that passed she expected him to make his move, reach out, tug her back, and thenâ¦who knew how the night would end. And then the door was closed against her back and she was alone in the dark hotel room.
Alone except for her stupid pride, of course.
CHAPTER SIX
Tom stared at the polished wood of the door with its glossy scarlet number plate, and shoved away the hideous plummeting sensation deep in his abdomen. It was that same desperately sinking feeling he remembered from five years ago, but this time it had an added twist of triumph because he hadnât been the one left behind while she walked away. There had been a moment back there when to kiss her would have been so easy. The decision was within his control, his choice not to go any further. Heâd wanted to redress the balance and now heâd done exactly that.
Dodged a bullet there, he was sure of it.
He walked down the passage and rejoined the stairs. Up to the top floor and his own suite where a fire had been lit and subtle lighting switched on around the room. The sitting room with its velvet sofas was the epitome of opulent luxury. But it could have been a broom cupboard for the amount he noticed it.
Triumph was a pretty hollow sensation, it turned out, when youâd won it by playing safe. Heâd walked away because she walked away last time. Because his life now didnât allow for it. Because it could only ever be a couple of days.
None of those reasons seemed remotely significant now.
****
After the steam room sheâd thought it was a forgone conclusion how the night would end, despite the way sheâd knocked him back afterwards in the shower. Had he been waiting for her to make a move? Was that what this was about? Heâd taken her at her word then, decided to respect her choice not to let this second encounter end up in bed.
Or after an evening in her company had he now decided she looked a whole lot better looking back? Sheâd forced him to go out with her instead of eating a civilised meal in the fabulous restaurant. Her plans, apart from waitressing here and there, barely scanned into the following week, while his pretty much took him the full way up to retirement. She still didnât fit in with his life and it was a hundred times more obvious now than it had been back then. She stared at her face in the bathroom mirror, cheeks pink, teeth gritted, barely able to stand still with unrequited tension. And finally, unsure what the hell she intended to say or do, knowing only that she would drive herself mad within the space of ten minutes if she didnât at least ask the question and find out what he thought of her, she crossed the room at speed and threw open the door.
He stood inches away from her, knuckles upraised in a mid-knock of thin air. She caught her breath.
âYou see,â he said, holding her gaze steadily with his own. âFate.â
He moved at the instant she did, and then his arms were around her, his mouth crushed against hers, and she sank her fingers deliciously into his hair.
****
The kiss was a visceral moment for him, a burning uprising of suppressed desire for her, filled with five years of comparisons, five years of remembering her when the whole point of dating (which heâd done to some excess for a while there) had been to keep things forgettable. He realised now how laughable the idea of leaving her in the past really was. A part of him was still lying in that bed, looking in disbelief at that opposite empty pillow.
It was her. It always had been her. That maddening feeling of unfinished business when heâd been on the cusp of life.
Heâd forgotten the way she curled her hands around his neck and that she liked to pull her fingers through his hair. His stomach simmered at the feel of it.
The way her body responded to his touch, his
The lock clicked and she opened the door. With every slow motion moment that passed she expected him to make his move, reach out, tug her back, and thenâ¦who knew how the night would end. And then the door was closed against her back and she was alone in the dark hotel room.
Alone except for her stupid pride, of course.
CHAPTER SIX
Tom stared at the polished wood of the door with its glossy scarlet number plate, and shoved away the hideous plummeting sensation deep in his abdomen. It was that same desperately sinking feeling he remembered from five years ago, but this time it had an added twist of triumph because he hadnât been the one left behind while she walked away. There had been a moment back there when to kiss her would have been so easy. The decision was within his control, his choice not to go any further. Heâd wanted to redress the balance and now heâd done exactly that.
Dodged a bullet there, he was sure of it.
He walked down the passage and rejoined the stairs. Up to the top floor and his own suite where a fire had been lit and subtle lighting switched on around the room. The sitting room with its velvet sofas was the epitome of opulent luxury. But it could have been a broom cupboard for the amount he noticed it.
Triumph was a pretty hollow sensation, it turned out, when youâd won it by playing safe. Heâd walked away because she walked away last time. Because his life now didnât allow for it. Because it could only ever be a couple of days.
None of those reasons seemed remotely significant now.
****
After the steam room sheâd thought it was a forgone conclusion how the night would end, despite the way sheâd knocked him back afterwards in the shower. Had he been waiting for her to make a move? Was that what this was about? Heâd taken her at her word then, decided to respect her choice not to let this second encounter end up in bed.
Or after an evening in her company had he now decided she looked a whole lot better looking back? Sheâd forced him to go out with her instead of eating a civilised meal in the fabulous restaurant. Her plans, apart from waitressing here and there, barely scanned into the following week, while his pretty much took him the full way up to retirement. She still didnât fit in with his life and it was a hundred times more obvious now than it had been back then. She stared at her face in the bathroom mirror, cheeks pink, teeth gritted, barely able to stand still with unrequited tension. And finally, unsure what the hell she intended to say or do, knowing only that she would drive herself mad within the space of ten minutes if she didnât at least ask the question and find out what he thought of her, she crossed the room at speed and threw open the door.
He stood inches away from her, knuckles upraised in a mid-knock of thin air. She caught her breath.
âYou see,â he said, holding her gaze steadily with his own. âFate.â
He moved at the instant she did, and then his arms were around her, his mouth crushed against hers, and she sank her fingers deliciously into his hair.
****
The kiss was a visceral moment for him, a burning uprising of suppressed desire for her, filled with five years of comparisons, five years of remembering her when the whole point of dating (which heâd done to some excess for a while there) had been to keep things forgettable. He realised now how laughable the idea of leaving her in the past really was. A part of him was still lying in that bed, looking in disbelief at that opposite empty pillow.
It was her. It always had been her. That maddening feeling of unfinished business when heâd been on the cusp of life.
Heâd forgotten the way she curled her hands around his neck and that she liked to pull her fingers through his hair. His stomach simmered at the feel of it.
The way her body responded to his touch, his
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