I hit the stop button. Take a chance. “You want to know how much I like spending time with you?”

Her eyes widen, and her breathing seems to quicken. “I do.”

I reach for her hand and bring her close. “For a long time, I’ve thought Valentine’s Day sucked. I’ve considered it a social construct. I’m not saying it’s my favorite day, but you’re making me rethink a lot of things. Including something I’d like right now.”

“What’s that?”

“To kiss you in an elevator.” Her eyes sparkle and say yes. I pull her against me and I kiss her hard and breathlessly. So hard I wonder why we’ve waited this long, but of course, I know all the reasons why we’ve waited this long.

Because I’ve waited.

Because I’ve been afraid.

Because I’ve had so much bad luck, I didn’t believe I could have good luck.

I cup her cheek and sweep my thumb over her jaw, trying to erase the bad luck. To make our own new luck. She shudders in my arms and we kiss feverishly, like we’ve both been waiting years for this.

She moves closer, loops her arms around my neck, and threads her fingers in my hair. I kiss her more deeply—she’s so damn soft and she tastes so damn sweet, and all I want is to take her home and have her and tell her. Tell her I’m not such a curmudgeon, I’m not such a grump. That if I could have her forever, she’d feel like the best luck.

She breaks the kiss and looks up at me, hazy-eyed. “I’ve been hoping you would do that.”

“Is that so?”

“I’ve been wanting it for a long, long time.”

Go for it. Go all the way in. Don’t hold back. “Then I think we should do it for longer, like maybe all night.”

Her grin is my yes, then she gives it to me in words. “I’d like that too.”

I hit the button so we resume the pace, get off at the sixth floor, grab the laptop, and return to the elevator. Once inside, I grab her face and kiss her again, softer this time, slow and lingering, savoring her. When the elevator arrives at the lobby and the doors open, my sister is waiting on the other side.



I don’t embarrass easily.

But here in the building, with my sister staring slack-jawed at me, I’m pretty sure my face is approximating a tomato.

It’s probably not my best look, and I’m also certain I’m in big trouble. “Ally, sorry. Let me explain.”

She holds up her hands, shaking her head. “There’s nothing to explain.”

I grab Ally’s shoulder. Worry cartwheels through me. “But let me try.”

“There’s no need. I couldn’t be happier you two were making out.”

“For real?” I scratch my jaw, processing this new intel.

“For real. Now gimme my laptop and go forth and fornicate.”

Macy laughs, shaking her head. “Gee, thanks, Ally.”

“Admit it. It’s a good idea,” Ally adds.

I couldn’t agree more. “Have I mentioned you’re the best sister ever?”

She waves, backing up. “Go for it—finally.”

Then she’s gone, and I turn to Macy and do precisely that. I do what I should have done every single day since I met her. “Hey, you and I should be a thing.”

She smiles like I’ve given her the keys to the world. “Are you saying you kind of want me to be your valentine?”

I groan, but it’s a playful one. I tug her close, plant a kiss on her lips, and whisper, “Be mine.”

Softly, she answers me. “I’m yours.” She takes a beat and murmurs, “But I want you to know why I love Valentine’s Day.”

“For the hearts and stuff?” I ask carefully, since I might not be a Vrooge, but I’m not ready to don a Valentine’s Day ugly sweater. Do they even make those? I bet they do.

But Macy doesn’t seem to be thinking of ugly sweaters. A naughty glint crosses her eyes. “Yes, and for many other things. I also like it for the spicy side.” Her tone is so damn sultry and inviting.

I slide a hand around her waist. “Is that so?”

Ever so innocently, she smiles, then seems to confess, “I have a bit of a naughty side.”

I curl my fingers tighter around her. And my luck is officially changed. “I want to get to know that side.”

“You didn’t think I had a naughty side?”

“I had no idea.”

“Why do you think I mentioned cinnamon?”

“Was I supposed to understand something about a cinnamon comment?”

“Cinnamon is spicy. It’s not sweet.”

I groan. “Are you telling me you’re spicy instead of sweet?”

She dots a kiss to my nose. “I’m telling you I’m both. Do you want both tonight?”



On the streets of New York, she tugs her shirt down her shoulder and shows me the red strap of her bra. I’m a goner.

Lust cascades in my body. As soon as my brain works again, I call an Uber and get her to my place ASAP.

Tags: Lauren Blakely Romance
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