He opens the packages and pours the powder into the mugs on the tray, then he tips the hot water from the kettle into the mugs before stirring each one. “I wasn’t sure what kind of toppings you like on yours, so I got a bunch.”

I reach for some of the small, white marshmallows and drop them in my mug. He leaves his without any toppings.

“Want to see what Christmas movies are on?” he asks.

I stare at him over my hot chocolate mug. “Have I brought you over to the dark side?” I lean back into the couch and blow on my drink.

“I’m not sure I’d go that far, but I figure that’d be your preference and I aim to please.”

Part of me is disappointed I haven’t been able to make him fall in love with Christmas, but I still think I’ve softened him to the idea. This might be a marathon and not a sprint. The man I met on our blind date would not have put together a spread of hot chocolates and offered to watch a holiday movie. Baby steps, but steps forward just the same.

“Well, I’ll never turn down a Christmas movie. But you pick this time.”

“All right.” He lifts the remote off the table and scrolls the stations for a few minutes before he settles on National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation, which probably ranks at the top of my list of all-time favorite holiday comedy movies.

Once we’re both done enjoying our hot chocolates, I cuddle up to where he’s seated in the corner. His arm wraps around me and drapes over my shoulders, his hand hanging near my upper arm where he aimlessly lets his thumb rub the cotton of my shirt. There’s nothing innately sexy about the movement, but with each pass of his thumb, it feels as if he’s running it over a raw nerve that makes me want to press my thighs together. My breathing picks up and my breasts grow heavy.

I know Andrew said he wants to hold off on progressing physically with each other, but man oh man, he’s making it difficult. With this one gentle touch, it feels as if he’s mercilessly teasing me. That, coupled with the scent of his heady cologne and the feel of his hard chest against my cheek, has long since stolen my attention away from Clark Griswold.

The tension in my body grows tighter and tighter until I feel as if I’m a rubber band that’s been stretched to its limit. I tilt my head back and look up at Andrew. As though he feels my gaze on him, he looks down and our eyes find one another’s. Only seconds pass before our lips meet.

I guess I’m not the only one strung tight with the sexual tension between us. Our kiss is deep and desperate.