Page 21 of Babies for the Christmas Grump

I can’t quite place the emotion sitting in my chest, but it’s there.

It’s the surprise, the acknowledgment that she created this event, and it was more successful than I imagined. I didn’t expect that she could pull this off.

Her smile widens.

“You’re not the only one who’s surprised,” she says, a laugh escaping her lips. “But I told you I was just getting started.”

The moment hangs between us. Too long, too charged. The air itself has pulled taut with something neither of us can define.

I watch as she takes a step back, her fingers twitching as if she’s unsure whether to break the tension or just let it linger. She glances away, as though to hide the way the moment is starting to make her nervous.

I don’t let her pull away.

I step forward, closer this time, until I can see the tiny flecks of glitter on her cheek, the way her breath catches when she realizes what I’m doing.

“Sunny,” I say, barely a whisper. The word feels heavier than I expected. “You surprised me tonight.”

She swallows, her breath catching in her throat, and my eyes follow the movement. I watch the way her lips part slightly, the way her pulse beats just a little faster, and for a moment, I wonder if this is all a mistake.

If I should pull back, walk away, before this gets even more complicated than it already is.

But then she leans in just a little. It’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but enough that my chest tightens.

It’s a spark in the dark.

I feel it before I see it, the invisible pull, the electricity crackling in the space between us. Every inch of my body tightens, and I swear I can feel her warmth bleeding into my skin.

My hand twitches, desperate to touch her. To close the gap, to make this real. I reach for her. My fingers graze the edge ofher arm, the delicate fabric of her sweater, and in that moment, I can’t breathe.

The distance between us is nothing, yet it might as well be miles, and the pressure building in my chest is unbearable.

I stop myself, my breath shallow, hovering on the edge. Everything inside me is screaming to pull her closer, but I can’t shake the thought of what this will do, how much it could ruin.

And yet, the noise in my head falls away as her gaze locks with mine, those stormy eyes flashing. But her emotions are unmistakable.

She doesn’t look away. Neither do I.

Her lips part just a fraction more, and I swear it’s an invitation. I feel it in every inch of my body. The way she’s pulling me in, slowly, tantalizingly.

The scent of cinnamon still lingers, and it mixes with the heat that’s suddenly building between us, an intoxicating blend of warmth and tension.

I don’t think. I can’t.

I close the space between us in a single movement, catching her lips with mine. It’s tentative at first, soft. Both of us are testing the waters, waiting to see if this is really happening.

Her breath is sweet, the slightest hint of gingerbread lingering, and I feel the tremor in her hand as she places it on my chest. I can’t focus on anything else.

Then she reacts. She pulls me closer, and everything shifts. There’s heat, and then there’s pressure, intensity, as if we’ve both been holding back for far too long, and now neither of us can stop.

It’s not just a kiss. It’s a release, a rush that I haven’t felt in years.

Every reason I’ve ever told myself to stay away is drowned out by the sharp need pulsing through me. She’s all warmthand softness, but there’s a fierceness in her touch, something untamed that makes my head spin.

And when she moves closer, pressing herself into me, I know I’m lost.

This isn’t just a kiss. It’s everything we’ve been dancing around, the unspoken tension finally shattering in the most explosive way.

I’m consumed by it. By her. By the way she feels beneath my hands, the way she tastes, the way her breath catches in the back of her throat when I pull her even closer.