Wow, Declan’s got a nice butt.

I shook my head and tried to pry my eyes away, but with his back turned, I felt like it was one of those free moments I could gawk at his perfect form without anyone judging the drool that was bound to fall from my open mouth.

And then I noticed the window right in front of him, which seemed to have a side gig as a freaking mirror because it was reflective as all hell and clearly putting my gawking on blast. I stopped checking him out and focused on the record that was now spinning, the opening notes to “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas” starting to sound through the record player. There was no way he saw me anyway. He was so focused on the music, he couldn’t have seen me eyeing him like some kind of top-rate sirloin all nice and vacuum packaged to seal in maximum freshness.

Yeah, no way he saw. I’m fine. Totally fine.

“All right, once you’re done checking me out, why don’t we have a little dance?”

My shoulders slumped forward like I’d been popped. “Gah dammit, I was totally hoping you didn’t notice. What kind of window is that in the first place?”

“A good one,” Declan said, turning to me with a smirk that said, “kiss me right goddamn now.”

I didn’t. I couldn’t.

But damn do I want to. “I wasn’t checking you out,” I mumbled weakly under my breath as Declan came toward me. He was wearing a dark evergreen sweater, thick enough to keep him warm but thin enough to highlight the slopes of his muscles. His light blue jeans were a snug fit, highlighting another kind of bulge that had me swallowing audibly as I turned away, scared my eyes would betray me once again.

“I’m not a good dancer,” I lied.

“Bullshit,” he said, calling me out on the spot. “I saw how you got off that chair. You’ve taken classes, at least.”

Damn, he was observant. “Why did you even need Stonewall Investigations? You’re as sharp as Zane. He’s the founder.”

“Ah-ah-ah, you’re not changing the subject.” I could feel Declan a couple of feet behind me. It was weird, but it was a thing. I turned, and sure enough, he was standing there, close enough for me to reach out and grab him by the hands.

He reached for mine. I didn’t pull away, but I did stiffen. This was setting off alarm bells. Or were those just jingle bells? I swallowed as he started to sway to the soft beat of the Christmas song, moving closer to me.

“I, uhm, yeah I’ve been dancing since I was a kid,” I said, opening up to him. This may have all been a setup, but that didn’t mean everything had to be fake. “My mom put me in salsa classes in the fifth grade, and from then on I was obsessed. I took everything: hip-hop, contemporary, tap. I don’t think I ever got really good at one of them, but I think I can say I’m pretty good at all of them.”

Declan chuckled at that. When did our bodies get so close? “I’m sure you’re excellent at everything you do.” There was a heat inside me that was quickly spreading, and all Declan’s smirk was doing was dousing me in gasoline.

“I definitely give things my all.”

His hands held mine, a swift and smooth move that almost made me swoon.

Fake swoon, of course. Because that’s what this was: a facade. I had to keep that in mind, and as long as I was aware of it, then I could let myself enjoy it. For a little bit, for just this one song, I’d let myself enjoy being held by Declan and moving slowly around the room, being led by him and the slow, almost hypnotizing beat of “The Christmas Song.” Jermaine Jackson crooned about chestnuts roasting on an open fire and yuletide carols being sung by the choir as we swayed.

“Thank you,” he said, surprising me. I looked up, my eyes previously locked into a neutral spot on his chest. I was trying to avoid looking directly into Declan’s eyes, because much like Medusa, one stare from him could turn me right into stone.

Well… a certain part of me into stone.

“For?” I asked, myself being thankful for zero spontaneous boners. That would have been a little difficult to explain.

“For agreeing to this crazy thing. For coming along and being so open about everything. You could easily just phone it in, and you aren’t. You seemed genuinely excited to meet my family, and it feels like you’re actually enjoying yourself, and that makes me really happy. So thank you for being my fake boyfriend for the holidays and for being so upbeat about it.”

“Honestly… I kind of want to thank you, Declan. My plans were to sit in my nearly empty apartment with the blinds closed and old episodes of Buffy playing on repeat while I wait for the new year like some kind of sad, hibernating vampire. So really, thank you for bringing me here and giving me an actual reason to celebrate the holidays.” I caught myself smiling, and it was growing. “Even if it is fake.”

“Fake. Right,” he said. “About those rules we had. I know there’s no cuddling in bed allowed, but what about mistletoe kisses?”

I arched a brow. Declan let go of my hand and pointed up. Without me realizing, he had maneuvered us directly under a hanging mistletoe I had put up there only moments before.

Betrayed by my own hand.

My smile didn’t flicker for a second. “I guess those could be allowed. Only because I hate breaking tradition, and it is one of the longest-standin—”

I couldn’t finish my nervous rambling. Declan’s lips were on mine, silencing my words and igniting my body on fire from head to toe. I instantly melted into his body, feeling the hard planes of his muscles underneath his sweater, sending my senses into total overdrive mode. His hands left mine and slowly moved to hold my lower back, a spot on my body that was loaded with fireworks, and he set them all off at once the second his big hands slipped under my shirt and touched skin to warm skin. He pulled me harder onto him, and it was then I felt something between us, his bulge growing bigger and bigger, matching mine.

This was more than a mistletoe kiss, and there was a small part of my brain that was sending off incoming missile alerts. This shouldn’t be happening. It was breaking apart the barrier and making this safe “fake” thing seem way more grounded in reality than I was comfortable with.

But damn it, this was literally the best kiss I’d ever gotten from someone. Sounds like some dumb high school hyperbole, but it’s the full-on truth. Declan was doing things to my body with just his lips that had me turning into putty. I could feel myself letting go of every reservation I had. Of all the negative crap I was holding on to from Barry and the pain he’d caused. It was all falling off me and floating away, pushed by the growing heat that was blooming out from the both of us.

Then Declan broke the kiss and left my entire body aching for him. He looked at me, flames flickering in his gaze. “We shouldn’t do this,” he said in a low whisper. Behind him, the record jumped to the next track, the opening to “Frosty the Snowman” filling the room.

“I know we shouldn’t. I wholeheartedly agree with you. It’s dumb.” I pushed up for a second, overcome by the desire to kiss him. “It’s crazy,” I said against Declan’s lips.

“Insane,” he said against mine, his breath against my skin sending jolts through me. “I just can’t get enough of you. Fake or not.”

“Declan…” I was losing all my willpower. I could feel how bad he wanted me, and I wanted him just as bad. As long as we remembered at the end of the day that this was an arrangement to help Declan get through the week, then it would be fine if we got a little carried away.

My hands moved from his hips to his ass. It was as firm and as big of a handful as I’d expected after I got caught eyeing him up.

Then, before we could get any further, the nearby door swung open without any warning, startling us both and causing me to leap back and away from Declan like a scared alley cat.

What in the Ghost of Christmas cockblocking just happened?