Page 67 of Elf-ish

“I need to eat.” My hunger is the perfect argument. “How about a movie, too?”

“You want to watch a movie?” Her reddish brows lift.

“Why are you acting like I don’t do anything human? Eat cheeseburgers and watch movies.”

“I don’t know.” Her shoulders fall. “I guess I just kind of see you above the mundane with your suits and your top-floor office. Watching a movie and eating a burger must seem kind of boring.” She wrinkles her nose like she still can’t believe I’d do something so simple.

I could chastise her for being a little judgmental but instead I say, “Let me show you that I’m not really that complex of a man.” I’d really like her to see me as something other than someone on some unattainable mountain peak. “I’ll even let you pick the movie.”

“Any movie?” she teases, tweaking one brow again.

“Any movie,” I agree.

“You might regret that,” she continues, stepping around me for the remote near the television.

“I regret nothing,” I counter.

“Ever been to a drive-in movie?” She adorably tilts her head sideways.

“Random.” I laugh, the sound sharp and quick, and foreign feeling. I glance toward the window, noticing snow lightly falling. “And a bit cold for one tonight.”

“Just answer the question.” Her mouth curls in the most delicious way.

“An Ashford only attends red carpet events and movie premieres,” I mock myself, recalling how I told her an Ashford only skis and snowboards.

She laughs next, the sound loud and cheery, before she points at me. “See. Complex.”

But she doesn’t seem to mind as we order cheeseburgers and fries, and wade through two Christmas rom-coms, before she picks a slightly spicier holiday movie, and I’m having serious concerns about the complexity of my feelings and my ability to hold back from what I want with this woman.

chapter 21

[Angelica]

We’ve watched two movies before this one, and within minutes of those shows, Jude spoiled the plot by predicting the outcomes. Of course, the couple would end up together and experience their first kiss with only five minutes remaining in the film, but I wanted to enjoy the known without his interpretation. Still, it was funny how easily he guessed the storyline correctly.

My head is pillowed at the far end of the sofa, and here we are tangled, but not tangled, sharing space like it had always been ours. Jude’s head is at the opposite end of the couch, his legs stretched and tucked around me. My feet are perched on his chest.

It is oddly intimate. Strangely comfortable. And nothing like how he typically was. Jude, in his suits, crisp and self-contained, is always slightly removed. This is different. This is him, relaxed and quiet, and letting me rest against him like it is completely normal. I like it more than I mean to. I like him like this more than I should.

And it isn’t awkward. Not at all. Not until that scene comes on. Then suddenly, I am too aware of the shape of him beneath my heels, the quiet way he breathes, and the warm line of his thigh pressing against my side. The closeness that had felt safe now feels charged, and I don’t dare move.

A viewer couldn’t even see all the details of the couple’s bodies, but you knew from their movements and moans exactly what they were doing. Pressing my thighs together, I rub my knees against one another in the slightest motion, while Jude holds my feet captive in his hands.

“Easy there,” he chuckles, catching onto my not-so-subtle squirm. “Getting turned on?”

“Shut up,” I whimper, unable to look at him, while attempting to playfully kick at his chest.

Jude tightens his grip on my feet, pinning them against his firm pecs. “Is that what you want? A romp in a barn with a cowboy?”

“Who says ‘romp’?” I twist only my head to glance at him, while he tugs off a sock from one of my feet and lifts my bare toes toward his mouth.

“You won’t?” I shriek.

“Wouldn’t I?” He nips at my big toe. “Now tell me . . . a cowboy in a barn?”

How about a millionaire in my apartment? But I don’t dare mention it.

Jude tugs the other sock off my opposite foot and bites my other big toe.