Page 29 of Suddenly Mine
And then, God help him, the whipped cream caught on her lip. Just a little. A pale puff clinging to the corner of her mouth, like frosting on a cake. Christian stopped breathing. Merry didn’t notice at first. She licked the edge of the cup, then used the tip of her tongue to sweep the cream from her lip with devastating effect on Christian’s self-control.
He looked away, then immediately looked back, gripping his own cup harder than was strictly necessary.
“This is so good,” she murmured. “Sweet, and tart, and a little spicy. Honestly, if someone put this in a perfume bottle, I’d wear it.”
Christian tried to answer, but the words tangled somewhere between“You already smell incredible”and“I am in so much trouble.”
Merry took another sip, then smiled around the rim. “Why does everything taste better tonight?”
“Maybe because you’re actually letting yourself enjoy it,” he said, more serious than he had intended.
She glanced up, surprised. Their eyes met and, just like that, the noise of the market faded, the lights blurred and the space between them hummed with something warm and magnetic. Everything slowed down. Not a single person bumped them, even though the path buzzed with life. It felt like they were standing in the centre of something only they could feel.
“I like being with you,” Merry said quietly, her voice barely rising above the murmur of the crowd. “Maybe more than I should — and that feels dangerous.”
Christian swallowed hard. “Dangerous how?”
“Like I might forget you’re leaving.” The ache in her voice rooted him to the spot. “And I don’t want to forget.”
Christian’s chest tightened. “I haven’t left yet, Merry.”
The air between them thrummed and, in that moment, all he could think about was how easy it would be to kiss her. To take her hand, hail a cab and pull her back to his hotel room. Her flushed cheeks, the shine of cider still on her lips, it was all driving him to the edge.
Too much, he thought.Too soon.
“Come on.” He nudged her gently. “There’s something else I want to show you.”
Merry blinked, like she’d forgotten where they were. “What is it?”
He offered his arm, managing a crooked smile. “Bryant Park’s Christmas tree. Some people say it’s better than Rockefeller’s.”
She looked almost relieved by the shift. “Better how?”
“Less flashy, more heart.” He gave her a sideways glance. “Kind of like you.”
Merry shook her head, smiling as she looped her arm through his. “You’re such a flirt.”
He leaned in as they began walking. “You have no idea.”
He could have sworn he heard her huff out a little breath, but he forced himself to ignore it as they wandered along the paths, past booths of handmade ornaments and tiny carved animals until they reached the tree.
It stood tall at the centre end of the park, a glowing tower of warm white lights, snowflakes, stars and deep red ribbons that curled and looped like sugar candy.
“Oh,” Merry said softly. “Wow.”
Christian glanced at her, but she was mesmerised by the tree, watching the lights twinkle like stars strung from the branches.
“I used to think Christmas trees were magic,” Merry murmured. “Like, they weren’t just decorations but that they meant something homely and safe.”
“And now?”
“Now I think I just forgot how to look at them,” she whispered.
He gently bumped her with his shoulder. “I think you’re remembering.”
She looked up at him, her expression unreadable. “Maybe I am.”
For a moment neither of them moved. Christian had the overwhelming urge to lean down and kiss Merry, to pull her closer and freezeframe the time before it slipped away.