The incredulity that spreads across Vincent's face nearly sets off fresh panic in Eric's chest, because it can only mean one thing: somehow, kiss or not, Vincent hasn't figured out that Eric is completely in love with him. He didn't know. And now that he does, he can't wrap his head around it, despite the undeniable evidence.
"Fuck," Eric whispers as he realizes his miscalculation. He falls perfectly still beneath the weight of Vincent's shocked regard.
"Your feelings for me?" Vincent echoes, impossibly soft.
"Nope." Eric pivots, never mind that he's still holding the hot mug of cider in his hands. Never mind that he's no longer wearing a single piece of his winter gear. Never mind the blustering winter hellscape outside, already worsening into a blizzard. He's going to make a run for it anyway. He can't do this.
Before he makes it two steps, a careful hand curls around his left arm. The touch is unfathomably gentle, and yet there's unyielding strength in it. Stopping him short, turning him around. Making it impossible to look anywhere besides Vincent's face, no matter how desperately the adrenaline makes Eric want to run. Cider splashes over the side of the mug, cooled enough that it doesn't burn his fingers on its way to spatter the floor.
"What feelings?" Vincent is standing in his space now, filling Eric's field of vision. As though he weren't distracting enough already. God, he's so tall, and this is not at all a good moment for Eric's pulse to speed.
"I..." he starts, but can't seem to find any words to pull him out of this tail spin.
"Eric." Vincent crowds even closer, though the grip on Eric's arm loosens simultaneously to allow an avenue of retreat. "I kissed you on Friday. That's why I put a rush on your promotion paperwork. I didn't want to keep you in an untenable position. You shouldn't have to keep coming in to work for a boss who's infatuated with you."
"Infatuated?" Eric's brain stubbornly refuses to wrap around this confirmation. "You kissed me?"
He wants it to be true, far too intensely to give the notion any credence.
Vincent looks uncertain for a moment, confusion and concern clouding his face and turning his full lips down at one corner. "Don't you remember?"
"I didn't— It was just wishful thinking. You couldn't have..." His mind is whirling so fast he can't seem to catch his bearings. "I wanted you to kiss me so fucking much. But it couldn't have gone that way." It's too good to be true. Every time he's played Friday night back through the kaleidoscope lens of his memory, he's emphatically shut down the possibility that his senses might actually be telling him the truth.
Maybe he should have listened to them after all.
The smile that breaks across Vincent's face is so bright and unrestrained that Eric's heart leaps. A shiver runs the entire length of his spine, and the sensation is thrilling. Vivid hope. Giddy disbelief. This cannot be happening, and yet this time he has to concede that it is.
"Wow." He's so shocked and overwhelmed that the word comes out almost without inflection.
Vincent's smile dampens at the lack of intonation. "You okay?"
And hell, the fond concern in Vincent's voice is almost too much. The question itself reverberates through Eric's mind, so simple and yet so inexpressibly complicated. Eric has been in love with his boss for five years, the effort of concealing his infatuation wearing him down like exhaustion. He has been so obsessed with making sure Vincent never knew, it never once occurred to him to wonder if his feelings might be returned.
Even now he realizes it wouldn't have mattered. If he'd been consciously looking, there still would have been nothing to see. Whether Vincent's romantic interest is a new discovery or a lingering obsession to match Eric's own, he would never allow an employee to glimpse such blatant impropriety. He wouldn't have kept Eric on as a subordinate if he'd harbored any fear of showing his hand. Whatever prompted Friday's lapse—and Eric is curious enough he will have to ask one day—it was clearly unforeseen.
Vincent's position in the company makes easy work of arranging an advantageous change in assignment. He could have sent Eric away a dozen times with no professional harm done and no one the wiser.
But Vincent kept him close for years. And now that they're here, Eric's heart is pounding so fast he thinks he might burst.
Despite the delay, the answering smile that touches Eric's face is bright and genuine. "I'm great," he says as the grin widens helplessly. "Better than great. I'm over the fucking moon."
"Yeah?" Vincent's eyes spark with unmistakable hope.
"I mean, it's not much of a Christmas miracle, but—" Eric's retort cuts off as Vincent kisses him, sudden and sweet. Both the bundle of paperwork and the full mug of cider fall to the floor, and Eric does not care. He barely registers the heavy thud of ceramic landing on the rug without breaking, the splash of sticky beverage across the cuff of his pants and probably the papers too.
He can't be bothered about the mess he just made. He's too busy wrapping his arms around Vincent's skinny shoulders, rising onto his toes to compensate for the vast variance in height. Another heartbeat and Eric tilts his head just so, finding a better angle as Vincent takes his mouth with unapologetic delight.
They kiss for a very long time. When Vincent makes a faint effort to pull away, Eric clings harder, encouraging and pleading with him to stay.
When they finally part, Eric's head is spinning, from either ecstasy or want of air. Either way, the tingling sensation is pure magic. Protective arms hold him up, wrapped tightly around his waist to keep him close, as though Vincent can't quite believe this moment either.
"Wait." Eric doesn't let go, but even here in the cozy circle of Vincent's embrace there is something nagging at him. He blinks and struggles to coax his brain back on track. "Wait, you said... Put a rush on the paperwork. Does that mean the new assignment is—"
"It's a legitimate promotion," Vincent interrupts before he can spiral, peering into Eric's eyes with keen intensity. "I wouldn't mess around with HR. When the heads of multiple departments put the same name forward, only a fool ignores them."
"When did this happen?"
"About a month ago. I've been getting the documentation in order, but I'd hoped to discuss the opportunity with you before moving forward." Vincent's shrug is sheepish, and a little apologetic. "It felt more urgent after my behavior on Friday. I didn't want you to think my personal feelings had impacted the decision."
Eric bit his tongue to keep from retorting, What the hell else was I supposed to think? The timing sucks, but he doesn't really blame Vincent for panicking under the circumstances.
Just because Eric is amenable doesn't mean Vincent didn't fuck up.
"What if I don't want the promotion?" he asks softly. He doesn't know precisely why it matters, but he can't shake the sense that it's important. He never intended to remain an administrative assistant forever. After five years and change standing immediately behind the public face of the company, he's overdue for a boost, and probably overqualified for most of the positions he could apply for. But this is whole extra rungs up the ladder, and the notion is sobering. From the fine print on those cider-stained pages, the thing is already a done deal, but maybe it doesn't have to be permanent. "Can you undo everything?"
"Please don't turn this down out of hand." Earnest pleading puts a rumble in Vincent's smooth baritone. "It's a good strategic move, and you earned it. The decision was nearly unanimous."
Eric takes a moment to absorb that information. If Vincent is only one of half a dozen different voices who think he's the best fit for this position, maybe he should stop arguing himself out of a good thing.
"And..." Vincent starts, only to trail off with an uncomfortably pinched expression. His arms loosen around Eric, though he can't withdraw as long as Eric continues to hold on.
"And?" Eric prompts him. He takes pity, loosening his own grip enough to ease back. Vincent's hands settle at his hips, even as piercing eyes continue to search Eric's face.
"And if you and I are going to be... involved... it behooves
me to put some professional distance between us. As team manager you'll have autonomy to make your own executive decisions. You will no longer answer directly to me, which I think we can both agree is necessary."
"Oh." Yes, those are very solid arguments. Eric might warm up to the notion even faster if it leaves room for more kisses—and other intimacies—from Vincent. "That's... Yeah. Okay. I'll give it a chance."
"Good." Vincent grins, then steps maddeningly away, taking his inferno of body heat with him. He bends down to pick up the dropped and now empty mug, but leaves the drenched paperwork as he straightens to take Eric's hand. "Come on. There's still a party, and my guests will wonder where I snuck off to."
Eric hesitates, resisting the tug to motion.
Vincent stops and gives Eric his full attention once more. "You don't want to join the festivities?"
"I just want you to promise we can continue this conversation after everyone else goes home."
The smile Vincent gives him in answer is positively beatific. "Of course we can."
"Okay," Eric breathes. "Let's go sing some fucking Christmas carols."
THE END
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Also by Yolande Kleinn
A Brand New Patch of Sky
Open Skies
Every Second You're Alive
An Intimate Charade
Simple After All
Ashes on a Distant Wind
By Hand and Heart
Especially at Christmas
Take Your Best Shot by Starlight
Anticipation
Sage and Sand
Wonderly Wroth
Restless Shadows, Waiting Roads
Running Hot
Not Much of a Christmas Miracle (Coming Soon)
Watch for more at Yolande Kleinn’s site.
About the Author
Yolande Kleinn may be a shameless dreamer and a stubborn optimist, but she is also a proud purveyor of romance and hijinx. Excitable, fastidious and a little eclectic, she spends every spare moment writing the stories she wants to read. If she can drag other people into the pool along with her, then so much the better.
Read more at Yolande Kleinn’s site.
Not Much of a Christmas Miracle Page 2