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I stare at her.
Then all my insides crumple like a house of cards.
Fuck. Who am I kidding? I can’t kill the girl, even when the only other option is killing myself. Now, I’m looking into her big blue eyes and I actually feel like doing that. Guilt gnaws at me, making me sick and hot.
Her eyes search mine, panic flickering in them. “Say something.”
My laugh comes out bitter and tinged with disbelief. Fucking Mario Kart. I killed off all her big problems, and now all she has left are soft and innocent worries. Suddenly needing to be near her,inside her,I take a step to the lamp and plunge the room into darkness. Then I slide the knife into my top drawer and crawl into bed with her.
“Come here.”
She tenses under my touch, but I slide my hands up under the hoodie—she’s barely taken off since I demanded she put it on—and I pull her toward me, until every inch of her warm skin sizzles through my suit. I run my fingers through her hair. It smells like nostalgia and temptation. She’s so still, I don’t even think she’s breathing.
Her lips tickle my throat. “You don’t hate me?”
I smile sadly into her crown. “Of course I hate you; we’re enemies with benefits, remember?”
She pauses. “But no more than usual, right?”
“No more than usual, Queenie.”
Her little sigh of relief makes her body melt into mine. Now, I can feel her heartbeat against mine, feel her lungs rising and falling under my palm on her back. Fuck, to think I was about to snuff this life out of her.
Before the guilt pounding behind my breastbone becomes unbearable, she wriggles from my grasp and props herself up on her elbow. Backlit by moonlight, she peers down at me.
“Tell me why you call me Queenie.” The tips of her hair brush against my forearm. I twist them around my fist, pulling her head down to mine. My forehead presses against hers. We’re so close her lashes tickle my cheeks. “I know it’s not because you think I’m regal,” she says.
“If I tell you—”
“You’ll have to kill me, yeah, yeah,” she grumbles, sticking her tongue out and licking my nose.
I choose wiping my wet nose over hers instead of responding. I wasn’t going to say I’d have to kill her; that’d be a bit fucking ironic, all things considered.
No. I know if I told her she was my Queen of Hearts, she’d want to leave.
I push her elbow so it falls from underneath her and she comes crashing down on my chest with a yelp. I wrap my arms and legs around her so she can’t escape.
Even though she’s brought me to my knees and set my world on fire around me, I’m not letting her go anywhere.
ChristmasEveontheyacht.
The staff party is fueled by festive cocktails and the type of glitter I’ll still be brushing off my suit come Easter. Leaning against the bar, I watch in amusement as Nico cuts through the tables toward me.
I know what he’s going to say, because he always fucking says it.
“Whose idea was karaoke?” He swipes an eggnog off the bar and regards the set-up over the glass rim.
Laurie has done a solid job. The stage is lit with Christmas lights and flanked by two towering Christmas trees. A large projector screen covers the wall behind it, displaying the lyrics to whatever song is being butchered by whoever imbibed enough mulled wine to believe they’re Mariah Carey.
“Why, not enjoying it?”
He stares at Benny, who’s on stage crooning along to Janis Joplin’sMercedes Benz.His mulled wine must be super-spiked, because his hip thrusting rivals Elvis. “Are you kidding? Name a better combination than drunk people and a microphone.” He shakes his head. “You can’t, because there isn’t one.”
Laughing, I down my vodka and flick the tumbler across the bar for a top off.
“And I suppose we have you to thank for this glorious show, Laurie?”
“Yes, Nico, you do.” I turn just as Laurie slides in between us. She sparkles in a silver dress, and her reindeer ears wobble when she whips her head around to glare at me. “Boss, I have a bone to pick with you.” She pauses, cocking her head. “Only a small one, obviously, I don’t want to get fired.”
