Naughty Or Nice / A Sinful Little Christmas. Rachael Stewart

his expression in my mind, focus on it as I grab my flute of champagne and throw back the remainder. The hit of alcohol makes me wince, but I need it—Dutch courage. I return it to the side as I watch the door.

       You love him. You can tell him. You have to.

      I hear footsteps in the hallway, louder than the music from my party, underway further down the hall, and I take a breath, pressing my hands into my thighs, forcing them to still and hoping their dampness doesn’t mark the bright white of my dress.

      The door opens and I can’t breathe.

      ‘Evangeline?’

      His voice sends blood rushing through my body, my pulse rate skittering out of control.

      ‘Yes…’ It comes out like a whisper, my fear coming through, and it frustrates me. I want to be confident. I want him to see me as a woman, not the little sister of his best friend, Nate.

       Get it together.

      His head appears around the door, his gaze hesitant as he looks from me to the hallway and back again.

      ‘Hey.’

      He steps inside but pauses, the confident twenty-one-year-old I usually see oddly absent. He’s boyish, uncertain, and my heart turns over.

      ‘Hey,’ I manage back, breathless.

      We don’t move closer. My knees feel like jelly and his fingers tremble a little as he rakes one hand through his hair, his other still hanging on to the door handle.

       Take control. You need to do this. You need to show him.

      ‘Close the door.’

      I’m surprised at the confidence I’ve injected into my tone—am surprised all the more when he does what I ask. But his eyes don’t return to me. They burn a hole in the floor at his feet.

      I take a small breath. ‘Why won’t you look at me?’

      His eyes waver and I can sense the fight in him.

      I step forward, my progress slow as the tight minidress restricts my movement, riding ever higher up my thighs. The moment I’d chosen it I’d had this in mind. To confess my love, maybe even seduce him. I want my first time to be with him and tonight would be so perfect.

      ‘Lucas?’

      He shakes his head, but then his eyes lock with mine and I feel their burn. Need is etched in the tightness of his jaw, in his hands fisting at his sides.

      ‘We shouldn’t be in here…alone.’

      ‘Then why did you come?’ I press.

       Please let him be torn. Please let him confirm what I suspect.

      ‘I—’

      He shakes his head again but his eyes are still fixed on mine. His internal fight is clear in their depths, and he runs his teeth over his lower lip. The move distracting me with the glimpse of his tongue, the mouth I so desperately want to taste.

      ‘Being alone with you, like this…’ He waves a hand up and down my length, his eyes travelling over me and setting my skin alight.

      ‘Don’t trust yourself?’ I tease, forcing out the playful jest even though I know how much rides on his response.

      I pause less than an arm’s reach away and look up at him from beneath my lashes, not quite ready to reach for him. That fear of rejection is still there.

      ‘You know we shouldn’t.’

      It’s my turn to shake my head. ‘Why?’

      ‘Because—because of who you are. Of who your family are to me.’

      ‘In a way, we’re your family too.’

      ‘Exactly, Eva—they’re all I have.’

      I risk another step and hold his tormented gaze. I want to kiss it away, take away the pain of his past, his loss, his loneliness. He never had a father. His mother, although best friend to my own, was hardly ever present, and now she’s been dead almost a year. But I have been here. I’ve always been here for him. I can be enough. If only he will see it.

      ‘And we will always be here for you. But I have to tell you how I feel. I have to tell you I… I…’ My voice cracks and I curse the show of weakness.

      ‘Don’t, Evangeline—don’t say it.’

      His words are a warning that I can’t abide, and it’s the push that I need.

      ‘Why?’

      ‘Because it will change everything.’

      ‘And why is that so bad?’

      He takes a breath and it shudders out of him, but he says nothing.

       Now. It has to be now.

      ‘Lucas.’ I slip my hands over his shoulders, feel him tense beneath them, but there’s no going back. ‘I love you.’

      He squeezes his eyes shut, closing me out, and when he opens them again they’re blazing. His hands are reaching out, tight on my hips as he forces me away.

      ‘I love you too, but not—not like this. I can’t.’

      He turns to leave and I move, stepping between him and his escape, so swift that he ends up pressed against me, my back against the door as my lips part on a gasp.

      It’s not just surprise—it’s the strange frisson that runs right down my front as my body absorbs his heat, the very hardness of him.

      His eyes drop to my mouth and there’s no need for words. His intent sears me seconds before his lips claim mine.

       Christ, I’m in heaven.

      He isn’t soft, tentative, uncertain. He’s hard, determined, his tongue forcing my mouth apart, demanding entry, coaxing me into doing the same.

      I’ve been kissed before, and I’ve kissed boys before, but I’ve never been devoured—not like this.

      My body thrums, my breasts prickle against his chest, and the dull ache in my gut swells and throbs with mindless need. My hands are in his hair, clinging him to me, his own rake over my body, feverish, trembling. I can’t believe this is real. I feel drugged, dreaming.

      And then he groans into my mouth, pressing me back harder, and I know it’s real. I know this is happening…my dream is coming true.

      His fingers drop to my naked thighs, encouraging my dress higher. I don’t know whether I lift my leg to hook it around him or he does, but the hard swell of him inside his jeans presses at the throbbing heart of me and I moan my pleasure.

      He curses, his teeth nipping at my lip as he shakes his head once more. ‘I’ve wanted you, so long.’

      His confession jerks me alert. I want more of it. More words. More to affirm how he feels.

      ‘How long?’

      ‘Too long.’

      Happiness bursts within me. Everything’s falling into place.

      I find his lips again, desperate to seal his words with my kiss. ‘And you can have me. I’m yours. I’ve always been yours.’

      There’s a strange knocking sound—one that doesn’t compute with the whirlwind that is my mind—and suddenly I’m thrust away from him. I try to focus through the haze. I see his widened gaze, his alarm clear.

      ‘Lucas? You in there?’

      The handle shifts with my brother’s voice, but the door doesn’t budge. I realise Lucas has turned the latch. It fills me with hope, but hope dies just as swiftly. He looks as if he’s seen a ghost as he stares at me in horror.

      ‘Lucas! Come on, man. Someone