distance

Sipping from a champagne glass, he’d scanned the crowd, looking for the douche Lucky had gleefully told him about (as though he’d expected a prince after he’d found Leah outside here watching Maddox that first time). He didn’t have to like the guy, or even know him to accept the invite that had dropped through his door. Who knew why he’d been invited – money, the prestige of having a bestselling author at your shindig, just karma wanting to keep a hand in – honestly it hadn’t mattered. He’d have gone all the same, even without Lucky sinking champagne at his side.

Heading to these things solo had always been the way to go – it avoided Jnr trying to palm the daughter of one of his supporters off on him, and you had the chance of heading home with someone all the same. He coulda done the same tonight, but after the fucking shambles of Halloween he hadn’t wanted to risk waking up in the morning with her throwing all the blame for a shitty night in his face. Wasn’t like he’d asked her to end up tied to him.

He shoved the first glass of champagne at her like a peace offering the minute they’d walked in the door, seeing off the complaints about where they were and the douche who owned the place. She was the one he’d be carrying out of here, so it didn’t matter how much he poured down her neck, just how much went down his, and that was a whole lot fucking more measured after her sister had strolled right up to meet her date. Turning up the charm, he’d managed to slip in a brief introduction after his title – Mitch Davis, without the added author he usually jammed in.

Lucky’d probably hoped he’d gone deaf with the torrent out of her sister’s mouth, but he’d drunk in every bit of it. Fair was fair after all. She’d dug in his head for all the shit about his dad, had heard the scraps he’d offered up about his mom and his sisters, now he’d gleaned enough from those few minutes of chit chat to be able to fill in so many fucking gaps as Lucky had pulled her sister aside.

By the time she’d got back he was smirking, and no amount of champagne had wiped the expression off. She was the one loosened up by it, draping herself over him the minute they were in the back of the taxi. Fingers slipping beneath his shirt, skirting over his chest in a way that had heat rushing beneath his skin. Hazel eyes narrowing as he’d blatantly ignored the driver’s grumbling about seatbelts – there was something to be said about the privacy of the back of a limousine - dragging his hand up her thigh, unfortunately on the outside of that dress. Breathing her in as they’d kissed hot and heavy, a promise of so much more once they were back in his apartment. No performance issues tonight, not with the way he slipped stiffly out of the taxi behind her minutes later.

One hand found her back, fingers curling into the fabric of her dress to steady her as he passed the driver a twenty – too fucking much for such a short ride, but it shut him up finally. ”Steady,” Mitch cautioned in a low mumble as she got her mouth on his again. She was still on the move, drawing him close in a way she wouldn’t have done if the alcohol wasn’t buzzing in both of their veins.

As she fumbled for the keys, he gripped her hips in both hands pulling her up against him as she pulled him down with a hand curled around the back of his head. Like a good boy he dragged his lips up that delicate line, scraped his teeth over the tender skin before he closed them around her earlobe. He didn’t get much further before she finally had the door open and was dragging him inside. Nearly in private, nearly at a point where he’d get that damn dress off of her.

His hands fumbled for the hem of it, the smirk almost echoing hers as he stalked towards her. Mitch crowded her in, hands curling around bare thighs this time – warm, but not as much as they would be when he had them wrapped around his hips again. He pressed in close, letting her feel the clock ticking down to that in twitches against her. His keys pressed uncomfortably between them, leaving him adjusting his aim before he froze. The kiss spun out a moment longer before he dragged his mouth away to squint down at her.

”How’d you do that?” he asked hoarsely, letting go of her thigh with one hand to grip for the hand that had been clutching the keys that’d got them into the building. He stared at the keys still clutched there. ”You took the spare set out of the apartment? Is that how you got in after Halloween?” Twisting her wrist, he stared at them, not spotting the plain black tag that had been on them. Or the one to the gun locker he kept beneath his bed. Mitch dragged a thumb over the ones he didn’t recognise, doubt cutting through the alcohol and haze of pleasure that’d obviously dulled him. Was his apartment key even on there?

Tagged: LUCKY CHRISTMAS * Word Count: 900

’Her father’s an ally of mine. I’m trying to get him to support the new budget.’ Jnr had learned quickly that if he knew the girl fawning all over him had been picked out like a steak for dinner he’d back off immediately. It had taken three girls for him to figure out that the ones who didn’t mention their parents at all were his latest attempt at using his son’s love life as political leverage. Mairi Ross had been the last, gripping his hand to slip it under her top before the knock had come at her bedroom door. Her dad hadn’t looked any more pleased about the situation than he was, although the handful of boob he’d had at the time might’ve had something to do with that.

No one tied to politics, no matter how tenuous the family link was. No Canadians at all for a while. No fans. No gold diggers. He’d drawn plenty of lines in the years since. There was plenty of scope for fun outside of that, even in a town this size. Or it’d seemed there was.

Mitch stared down at her eyes, even when they wanted to drop back to her mouth as she leaned in towards him like she’d launch straight back into the kiss. The cogs in his brain might’ve been slipping a little with the lubrication of alcohol, although not as much as it should’ve taken for him to take so long to realise his keys had never left his pocket. It was like she stole some part of his brain with every one of those kisses. ”The fuckin’ door,” he muttered. Her faculties were definitely dulled, the liquor that barely buzzed him saturating her. Would him sobering up bring her around enough that she could get the truth out?

Fuck. He wasn’t gonna be distracted by her drawing his attention back to her mouth with that little skim of her tongue. His common sense wasn’t connected to the part of him that was practically aching with need in the prison of his dress pants. A look at her hand revealed they weren’t his keys clutched there – they were still threatening to maim some part of him if he didn’t get it all rearranged. ”No you didn’t use them that morning, or no you didn’t go poking through my shit?” Mitch asked tightly. She was already explaining though. They weren’t his.

Instead of prying the keys out of her hand to look closer, he used the grip on her wrist to pull her in to him again. Even that close she couldn’t look at him though. Her gaze darted away and then she did, twisting away from him so she could drop her little bomb shell from a distance. ”You left that first morning. I saw you…” he growled. Had he though? Was it a scurry away from him just to hide what she didn’t want to confess to. As though her being that close to him was some sort of fucking problem. It wasn’t like he’d have gone pounding on her door like some love sick little idiot, begging for a date, or a third round.

Crowding into her as she snapped over her shoulder, he dragged a hand over his mouth. Mitch huffed out a breath against his fingers, his brows rising. ”Let me guess, it’s mine, like fucking always.” She’d thrown the blame at him often enough that he should’ve been wearing it like a scarlet letter stamped against his forehead. He aimed a finger at her as he dropped his hand. ”That’s definitely not my fucking fault. I never asked you to get … tied to me, or whatever the hell happened.” That part still hadn’t become any clearer after their little I’ll show you mine if you show me yours moment out at the falls. She’d looked like shit that day, not much better when she’d arrived in New Orleans. ”That’s why you were there crawling up my ass,” he grumbled, light finally fucking dawning in his head. ”You couldn’t bear to be parted from me for a couple of days?”

Amusement pulled at his mouth – a dangerous move with her so obviously fucking pissed now. Crossing her arms, her fists balled like she’d start swinging for him if he pushed it too far. ”I’m sure I’d have her charmed in five fucking mines. Women like me.” Most of them anyway. Despite how hot and heavy they’d been when they’d stumbled in the door, he still wasn’t sure if she actually liked him. It was a constant push, like she got a kick out of making him snap. If he’d just done that when they’d got in here they’d already be in the elevator, her pushed up against the walls, him probably already on his knees.

”Is it really easier, or do you just wanna be able to walk out whenever you want, leave me all pissed off and desperate?" Was it really that bad if she did? It meant he didn’t have to call her a cab to force her out the door in the end like he had done in the past, as though one night was practically an invite to move in. Mitch’s smirk lingered, his eyes narrowing as he followed her in, thumbing the number for his own floor – maybe hers too, who the fuck knew – before he pushed in close. ”Were you hiding outside the apartment door when you left me hanging on the edge?” he asked, dipping his head to nip at her throat again. It’d almost been a contest after he’d realised what she could feel from him. An afternoon of writers block shoved aside as he kicked his sweatpants off and sprawled on his bed, dragging the torture out until she was there at the door, just as worked up as he was. Had it been torture to do it when she could’ve been up there in four, five minutes maybe, depending on the elevators.

Tagged: LUCKY CHRISTMAS * Word Count: 1000