Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 96312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
“I’m creating a notch on this side,” Adrian said, gesturing to the wedge he’d cut. “Don’t we need to chop from the other side, too?”
I raised an eyebrow, impressed. “You’ve been watching lumberjack videos on YouTube.”
“I prepare for my shoots,” he replied with dignity. “Even the ones with emergency-substitute grumpy photographers.”
“You’re right,” I admitted, walking over to inspect his work. “Cut a bit higher on the opposite side, and the tree will fall in this direction.” I pointed away from where we were standing.
He nodded and moved to the other side of the trunk. His technique had improved considerably, each swing now landing with purpose. I found myself watching his movements rather than focusing on the camera—the flex of muscle beneath that ridiculously expensive sweater, the determination in his expression, the competence he’d developed in just minutes.
The tree began to creak ominously after several more powerful blows. Adrian paused, looking to me for guidance.
“A few more should do it,” I advised. “But be ready to move when it starts to go.”
He nodded, bracing himself for the final cuts. The tree swayed slightly with each impact, the cracking sounds growing louder. Adrian’s face was a study in concentration, completely focused on the task.
“It’s going!” I called out as the massive spruce began to tilt.
But something was wrong. Instead of falling in the direction we’d planned, the tree was leaning toward Adrian. He was still too close, still focused on his chopping, not realizing the danger.
“Adrian, move!” I shouted, already lunging toward him.
His head snapped up, eyes widening as he saw the tree tipping. He froze for a split second too long, and I didn’t hesitate—I dove forward, tackling him around the waist and sending us both tumbling into the deep snow several feet away.
The tree crashed down with a thunderous sound, branches brushing my back as we rolled clear of its path. When we finally stopped moving, I found myself on top of Adrian, my hands braced in the snow on either side of his head, our faces inches apart.
Time seemed to stop. Snowflakes fell around us in silent slow motion as we stared at each other, breathing hard. His eyes were wide, pupils dilated, lips parted slightly in surprise. My heart hammered against my ribs, and I couldn’t tell if it was from the adrenaline of the near miss or from the sudden, overwhelming proximity of him beneath me.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice a little shaky and his breath forming a small cloud between us. “That’s not how Hallmark movies portray this shit. Homicide by Christmas tree.”
“The tree wasn’t going to kill you,” I replied, my voice rougher than I intended. “Maybe just maim you a little.”
He laughed, the sound vibrating through his chest and into mine where our bodies pressed together. “You can’t let me have my dramatic moment, can you?”
I should have moved. Should have rolled off him, made a joke, maintained the professional distance I’d been so determined to keep. But I couldn’t seem to make my body cooperate. His eyes held mine, something unspoken passing between us as the snow continued to fall, insulating us in our own private world.
Our bodies were pressed together, knees to chest—and every delicious thing in between—and I felt the warm, solid muscle of him against me.
Adrian’s gaze dropped to my mouth for a fraction of a second, and my breath caught. The air between us felt charged, electric. Without conscious thought, I found myself leaning even closer, drawn by some invisible force I didn’t want to name.
His hand came up to brush snow from my hair, his fingers lingering against my temple. “Maddox,” he whispered, and my name on his lips sounded like a question I desperately wanted to answer.
Adrian’s heartbeat raced beneath my palm, which had somehow found its way to his chest. The rational part of my brain was screaming warnings, reminding me of all the reasons this was a terrible idea, but it was being drowned out by the roaring in my ears and the heat spreading through my body despite the snow seeping into my clothes.
His head tilted up slightly, eliminating another inch of the space between us. I could feel his breath on my lips now, warm and inviting. My eyes began to close of their own accord.
A violent shiver ran through Adrian’s body, breaking the spell. His teeth actually chattered as another shudder shook him.
“You’re freezing,” I said, clarity rushing back as I noticed the snow melting into his sweater, the pallor beneath his flushed cheeks.
“I’ve had men call me hot before, but never cold,” he replied with a weak attempt at his usual charm, but his continued shivering betrayed him.
I rolled off him and stood quickly, offering my hand to pull him up. “Come on. We need to get you warmed up.”
He took my hand, rising unsteadily to his feet. His designer clothes were soaked through from our tumble in the snow, his expensive sweater now clinging to him in a way that would have been distracting if I wasn’t worried about hypothermia.