Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 141425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Briefly, I think of the text Corbin sent me earlier, and a plan begins to form.
But before I fuck-up again by saying the wrong thing or saying nothing, I shut my mouth—by sealing it to hers. And all is right in the world as we connect again.
I slant my lips to her soft, sweet mouth, groaning at the taste of her minty breath. My Sabrina loves her toothpaste. The more spearmint-y the better, and I love knowing this detail about her. I love knowing all the things about her. Her affection for foxes and for rescue animals. Her love of bagels. Her soft spot for shiny objects. Her need to keep lists and the way she tempers it by keeping good lists. Her love of skating and her bigger love of the joy in the sport. Her strength in standing up to her family and her boundless spirit in making every day fun for my kids. How she teaches them about Earth, and giving back. The way she cares for them. And for me.
As all of this knowledge swirls in my head, I kiss her more fervently, her body molding to mine, her heart beating against my chest, and I know something else too.
These sparks I feel?
This intensity that has me hostage?
This clawing feeling that consumes my chest, my cells, my bones? This unfamiliar emotion that’s swallowing me whole?
I’m falling in love with the nanny.
I groan into her mouth, tugging her impossibly closer, wanting to gather her in my arms, to haul her up, have her wrap her legs around my waist. But the weight of responsibility in the next room bears down on me. I can’t fuck her in the adjoining room, even with the kids out for the count. Besides, they just fell asleep. They might wake up.
But I can do something else.
I break the kiss, panting hard. Her breath is coming in staggered gusts too. She’s clutching my shirt like she doesn’t want to let go.
And the plan is fully formed. “Corbin is in New York,” I begin.
Her brow knits. “Yeah?”
“He’s from here. His family is here. He texted earlier to invite the kids to Christmas cookie decorating tomorrow afternoon with his family.”
Her lips twitch, but she waits for me to say more.
“We can have some time alone,” I say, the words spilling out now. Tumbling on top of each other. But the last thing I want is for her to think I’m asking her for another sex date. I cup her face, hold her gaze. “Let me take you on that ice-skating date in the afternoon.”
She twists her fingers tighter around the collar of my shirt. “I can’t wait to skate circles around you, Falcon.”
I tip my head back and laugh.
Forget falling. I’m already there.
I drop a kiss to her lips. “It is on.”
The massive Christmas tree looms over the ice rink, festooned with ornaments and the sparkling lights that flicked on before dawn. It’s noon right now, so they’re soft but still visible. The sun is shining brightly above us at the packed rink at Rockefeller Center.
No surprise—it’s Christmas Eve, but I snagged some last-minute tickets for a slot on the ice.
Now, with hordes of tourists and New Yorkers—some wobbling, some whizzing by—Sabrina skates backward, showing off gorgeous crossovers as I skate toward her, unable to take my eyes off the figure-skating beauty.
“Come on! You challenged me to a skills competition that night in Cozy Valley.” She wiggles her mittened fingers toward me. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
“The taunting,” I say. “The taunting.”
But I can handle my own on blades, thank you very much. I spin around and skate backward right past her, then come to a fast hockey stop, spraying ice.
“Show-off,” she teases, and I push off, skating around with her, but then I stop in my tracks. A young couple wobbles nearby. I grab Sabrina even though she probably has noticed them too. But I yank her against me regardless.
“That’s the thing about a big public rink—it’s not the best place for a skills competition,” I say.
She rolls her eyes and swats my chest with her mittened hand. “Oh, please, you just don’t want to admit I’m faster,” she teases.
I drop a kiss on her nose, overwhelmed briefly by how much I want this. These dates, these moments, this time with her. And I’m about to toss out a witty comeback, like let’s do it again when we get back home, when the wobbly guy gets down on one knee.
“Oh,” I say, blinking.
Sabrina gasps. “Oh my god.”
The man takes out a small velvet box from his jacket pocket, and the woman’s nodding, smiling, giving her yes. Sabrina claps and cheers, and I join in too.
“Congrats,” I say to both of them.
They smile back.
When the woman tugs him up and they kiss on the ice, we resume our pace, passing them as Sabrina calls out, “Congratulations.”