Chapter 18

Noelle

There’s nothing sexier than a kissing booth. Well, maybe York planting his lips across mine at the kissing booth might be a bit sexier.

York’s lips linger against mine for a moment longer than any of the others, his hand firmly on the back of my neck, and I’m lost in the sensation of his possessiveness. The crowd around us cheers, clapping and laughing like we’ve just given them the show of the festival. My heart’s racing, my cheeks are flushed, and all I can think about is how much I never want this to end.

When he pulls back, his blue eyes are locked on mine, and his voice is low but firm. “Nobody else is kissing you today. Just me.”

The crowd cheers louder, clearly eating up the romantic declaration, but my focus is entirely on York. I don’t even care that the cameras are snapping away, or that people are watching. For once, I’m not pretending.

York's thumb grazes my cheek as he steps back, grinning at the reaction he’s stirred up. I can’t help but smile, my heart feeling light, like nothing else in the world matters but this moment.

Just as I’m about to say something, I spot my dad approaching, his expression unreadable. My stomach flips. He looks right at York and says, “York, can I have a word with you?”

York’s confident smirk falters for just a second, and my pulse quickens. I can’t shake the feeling that my dad might suspect something, and now… well, now it’s time to face the music.

York nods, his demeanor cool as he straightens up. “Sure, Coach.”

The two of them step away, and the crowd's buzz fades into the background. My eyes stay glued to York as he and my dad walk off, my heart pounding, wondering what they’re talking about, wondering if my dad knows.

I’m still staring after them when my mom sidles up next to me, her soft, warm presence a comfort I didn’t know I needed.

“You know,” she says, a knowing smile tugging at her lips, “I’ve never seen you so happy.”

I blink, pulling my gaze away from where York and Dad disappeared. “What?”

She chuckles, reaching out to brush a stray hair from my face. “You. This… glow about you. I’ve seen you happy before, but this is different.”

Her words catch me off guard. For a moment, I don’t know what to say. There’s this knot in my stomach because as much as I want to gush about how right she is, I still haven’t told them the truth. I’m dating York Steele. For real. But my mom’s soft, understanding eyes seem to already know. Maybe she’s known all along.

I clear my throat, glancing down at the snow-dusted ground. “I am happy, Mom.”

She smiles warmly, her eyes twinkling. “It’s good to see, sweetheart. York’s a good man.”

Before I can respond, the festival starts shifting gears as the sun dips below the horizon, casting a golden glow over everything. Lights flicker on, illuminating the booths and the twinkling Christmas décor. The festive buzz in the air turns softer, more intimate, and couples are starting to gather by the outdoor dance floor, where soft Christmas music is playing.

I glance around, taking it all in—the warm light, the smell of happiness, the gentle hum of Christmas melodies floating on the breeze. And then, as if on cue, York appears beside me, his hand finding mine.

“Care to dance?” he asks, his voice low and smooth, and for a moment, I forget everything else—the paparazzi, my dad’s serious expression, all the secrets we haven’t told yet.

I look up at him, my heart swelling with an emotion I can’t quite put into words, and I nod. “I’d love to.”

He leads me to the dance floor, his hand warm in mine, and as we step into the soft glow of the lights, the world feels like it’s shrinking down to just the two of us. York pulls me close, his hand resting on the small of my back, and I melt into him as we sway to the music.

“I told your dad I’d take care of you,” he whispers, his lips brushing against my ear as we move together. “But we’re still keeping this our secret for now.”

I nod, my head resting against his chest, and for the first time today, I feel like everything is going to be okay. We’re in this together, and right now, with York holding me close as the snow falls gently around us, it feels like nothing can touch us.

It’s late as I sneak into the garage. “York,” I whisper-yell, my eyes searching for the one man I can’t get enough of. It’s becoming our nighttime ritual.

This is the third night in a row I’ve met him here after everyone has gone to bed, and I’m loving every second of our time together.

“I’m here,” he says, stalking closer to me. “And I need to do something.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Oh, what?”

He pushes me onto the table behind me, leaning me back as he quickly discards my pajamas and panties. “I need to eat this pussy out before I die.”

I squeeze my eyes shut as I lay back, my legs falling open. “Oh, York.” A girl could get used to this kind of treatment, but I don’t want to think about a future outside of this holiday season.

When I go back to school. When York goes back to his hockey career. I’m sure we’ll fizzle out quicker than a soda left out too long.

I push the negativity away as York’s mouth makes contact with my most private parts. “Oh my,” I cry out, slapping a hand over my mouth to quiet myself down.

York lifts his head slightly, his eyes meeting mine. “You’re going to have to keep it down, Noelle.”

I squirm a little. “I know, but I don’t want to.”

“Tomorrow we’ll go somewhere more private. Promise. But tonight you have to keep it down.”

I nod, leaning my head back to rest along the table as York continues his assault on me. I’ve never had anyone do this to me before, and now I realize how much I’ve been missing out on.

Actually, no. I’m sure the only reason it feels good is because York is a master at it. I mean, the man should teach classes.

Actually, no again. He shouldn’t. He should keep his skills under wraps, and only ever use them on me.

Those pesky thoughts of the future try to creep into my consciousness, but before I can really think too long or hard about it, York does this thing with his tongue, and I nearly buck off the table.

“What the hell…” I moan out, my hands flying through his hair, keeping him in place so he’ll do that little trick one more time.

“Yeah, you like that, huh?”

“Yes, please.” I grind my hips against his face, bringing myself even closer to his mouth. “So good.”

“You’re definitely on the naughty list this year, Noelle.”

“Good,” I whisper. “I want to stay on it forever, then.” At the mention of forever, York pauses briefly, and I wish I could retract the word.

He recovers quickly, tackling my pussy like an architect with a detailed blueprint. He keeps lapping at my heated skin, licking, nibbling, along my clit.

I’m gripping him tightly, unable to let go. Never wanting to let go either.

I don’t know what the future holds, but all I know is I won’t be able to survive it.