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When he saw me, he stood, crossing over to a couch that sat underneath the windows, a small kidney-shaped table with an open bottle of champagne and two glasses in front of it. He dropped down onto the couch, and crooked a finger at me in invitation.
I gathered my courage. Yes, I was wildly attracted to him. Yes, he was most definitely the sexiest man I’d ever laid eyes on. Yes, there was something that drew me to him like nothing I’d ever experienced before. But at the end of the day, we’d become intimately acquainted, to put it politely, so we’d already skipped past several steps in the ‘getting to know you’ game. Flicking my hair over my shoulder, I gathered my courage and sauntered towards him, and he watched me as a predator would watch its prey, all coiled tension, ready to strike, and devour me whole.
“Marcus Drummond,” I said, sinking onto the chair next to him.
He raised a brow. “Well, now, I’m at a disadvantage, because I don’t know your name.”
“Ashley. Ashley Ronson.”
“Ashley.” My name, rolling off his tongue, sounded decadent and almost sinful, and I shivered. His eyes darkened, and he leaned forwards. I hardly dared to breathe as he picked up my hand and brought it to his lips, softly kissing the back before lowering it. Onto his firm, muscular thigh.
My eyes flew to my hand and nerves overtook me.
“Don’t look so worried. I’m not about to attack you. Let’s have a drink, and talk. Get to know one another.” He held my gaze steadily, waiting for my reply.
“Okay. Talk. I can do that. Let me get more comfortable.”
He watched, amused, as I slipped my feet out of my shoes, and curled my legs under me on the sofa. Pulling the Santa hat off my head, I shook out my blonde waves, and placed the hat on the table.
Marcus handed me a champagne flute.
“Tell me, Ashley Ronson, why exactly are you dressed like a Christmas elf?” His arm was around the back of the sofa, and he idly toyed with my hair as he spoke, making me shiver again.
“I’m not an elf. I just…wanted to be festive. Christmas is the best time of year, don’t you think?”
His expression shuttered. “Not for me.”
“Why not?” I leaned closer to him. The need to touch him was almost overwhelming, and I lightly placed my hand on his arm, feeling the soft fabric of his shirt underneath my fingers. I stroked my hand up and down, almost involuntarily, until I noticed his gaze locked on my movements, and I stopped.
“Because I work a lot, and I don’t have any family to speak of—none that I’m close enough to spend Christmas with, at least. I normally spend Christmas Day here, catching up on work while it’s quiet.”
I couldn’t stop my horrified gasp. “You spend Christmas Day at work? Are you serious?”
“Deadly.” His mouth set in a hard line, and I noticed a muscle ticking in his jaw. He drew back from me and I backpedalled, trying to smooth things over.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m just having a hard time getting my head round someone choosing to work on Christmas Day.”
“There’s not much else to do, is there?” A hint of bitterness crept into his low voice. “I can spend the day alone, while everyone else plays happy families, or I can do something productive with my time.”
“Oh, I see. Well, I’m going to be alone, too. But I’m actually excited by the prospect, if I’m honest with you.”
“Do you live alone?” He cocked a brow at me.
“No…”
“That’s why, then. If you spend your whole life alone, what’s another day of many? At least in work, I can keep myself occupied.”
I had no idea why he was opening up to me but I wasn’t about to stop him. There was a connection between us, something I couldn’t even put into words. It just felt like this was meant to happen.
Shifting on the couch, I moved closer to him until I was pressed against his body. From this angle I had to tilt my head to look at him, but the need to be close to him was consuming me.
“You know what I like to do every Christmas Eve?” I decided to tell him my silly story, hoping it would lighten the dark mood that had settled over him. He looked down at me, his grey eyes softening almost imperceptibly.
“Tell me.”
“Well, there’s a tradition that I have every year. I go to Trafalgar Square, you know, where they have the giant Christmas tree?”
He gave a small nod, the hand that was playing with my hair now trailing down my arm, setting off a chain of goosebumps with his touch.
