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“You Fletchers never have been good at speakin’ your mind.” A soft, crooked smile curls his lips. “Of course, I knew.”
I roll my eyes even as my cheeks flush. In the dingy Anchorage lodge hallway, being chastised by Jonah for how much like my father I am is not how I was envisioning this moment going. “Well … great.” What else am I supposed to say, especially since he hasn’t echoed the sentiment?
His mouth splits into a perfect, white-toothed grin. “You’re cute when you’re vulnerable.”
My indignation flares. “You know what? I take it back.”
“Nah. You don’t.”
“Yeah, I do. In fact, I think I hate you right now.” I make to pull free from his arms, but they coil tighter, keeping me in place.
“Look at me,” he demands softly.
After a moment of reluctance, I do. His blue eyes are severe as they pin me down. “I can’t remember what it feels like not being in love with you, Calla.”
My pulse pounds in my veins.
He leans in, presses his forehead against mine. “I can’t remember what it’s like to wake up and not have you be the first thing I think about. Every morning, I roll over in bed to check for a message from you. Every night, I go to bed annoyed because you’re not beside me. Because you’re so far away. I need you in my life like I need to fly. Like I need this Alaskan air. More than I need this air.”
“Wow. That’s …” I swallow the lump in my throat, about to float away on a euphoric high from his tender admission. That’s way better than just blurting out “I love you.”
He cups my chin with his palms. “You were made for me. I am madly in love with you, Calla Fletcher.” His mouth catches mine in a deceptively soft kiss that threatens to buckle my knees. It draws a moan from deep within me, the agonizing month-long wait to feel Jonah’s lips against mine finally over.
I grab hold of his forearms for support, my hands tightening over them, reveling in their strength. I ache to feel his corded muscle and smooth skin and soft hair beneath my fingertips again, to feel the weight of his body sinking me into a mattress.
Between us, the hard ridge of his erection presses against my stomach, taunting me.
A throat clears, pulling us apart. A housekeeper smiles sheepishly as she edges past to get to her cart on the other side.
I nod to my open hotel room door behind us. “Maybe we should take this inside?” Because I’m about five seconds away from unfastening his belt buckle, audience be damned.
Jonah takes a step forward, but then stops, shaking his head firmly. “If we want to make it out of here today, we need to go now. That system is movin’ in slow, but it’s comin’.”
I frown. “I thought you said you weren’t flying back today.”
“We’re not, but we’re not staying here.”
“Where are we going, then?”
“To see Santa.”
“What?”
“Do you trust me?”
“Yeah, of course, but—”
“’Kay, then stop talkin’, get ready, and meet me in the lobby. I’ll check you out of your room.” He plants a last, chaste kiss on my lips and strolls away, whistling “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.”
“But my suitcases—”
“They’re at the front desk,” he hollers over his shoulder, adding in a booming voice, “but I told you already, Barbie, you’re not gonna be wearin’ any clothes for a few days.”
My cheeks burn as I seek out the housekeeper, hovering by her cart with her head down, pretending she didn’t hear that.
And then I rush inside to pack my things.
Chapter Four
