Daphne’s eyes went wide. “You what? Why?” Did this mean she was losing him that much sooner? God, February was bad enough, but to think of him leaving right away was devastating. Was this why he was so fidgety? She felt like crying. “Wes, why? Why did you quit?”
“So I can do this.” And he leaned over, tilted her face toward him, and kissed her on the mouth.
Daphne froze, shocked. She remained utterly still even as he ended the light kiss and pulled back. “I . . . don’t understand,” she breathed, even though her body was tingling with awareness just from that small kiss.
“I’m not supposed to fall in love with my clients, Daphne. But . . . I’ve been fighting how I feel for you for a long, long time. Ever since you came out of rehab and cussed me out the first time I made you do a burpee. You were so sad, but still fighting. I loved that spirit in you—you weren’t ready to give up. And over time, it’s been harder and harder for me to stop from touching you.” His hand moved to hers and he took it in his grip, caressing her fingers. “I’m supposed to be impartial and strong so you have someone to lean on, and I’m failing. I did fail.”
“Bullshit. You’re wonderful.”
“I’m the one that suggested to the label that I leave in February. Not because I wanted to, but because I didn’t trust myself to be neutral any longer.” His fingertips skimmed her knuckles in a touch that made her stomach flutter. “And then after we fought . . . I realized I was going about this all wrong.” His dark-eyed gaze held hers. “I don’t think you need a life coach any longer, or someone to slap your hand when you reach for the wrong foods. You’ve shown me you can make great choices. But I’m hoping that”—His thumb caressed her palm—“that maybe you’re ready to have a boyfriend and that you haven’t given up on me.”
Given up on him? Daphne flung her arms around his neck and planted her mouth on his. He was everything she’d ever wanted.
Their mouths met with a hard press, and she felt a shiver run through him. Excited, Daphne intensified the kiss, letting her emotions show as she took control of the caress, her mouth sliding over his and then coaxing his lips open so she could flick her tongue against his. The moment their tongues touched, it was like lightning through her body. Heat curled through her and suddenly she couldn’t get close enough, their mouths devouring each other and his hands roaming over her back.
The car slid, careening on a patch of ice, and they broke apart. Wesley held on to Daphne as the car spun in a slow circle while the driver cussed and a Christmas carol blared over the radio. Dazed, Daphne stared out the windshield, watching the street slide past as they did a full 360-degree turn and then stopped.
“Sorry,” called the driver. “Just hit some ice. You guys okay?”
“We’re good,” Daphne breathed. “I think.”
Wesley nodded.
The driver gave them a thumbs-up and then the car began to creep forward again.
“Well,” Wesley said after a moment, licking his lips. “I thought the world was spinning out of control with that kiss, but it might have been the roads.”
She giggled. “It can’t be both?”
The look he gave her was warm, so damn warm. “It can be.” He brushed the backs of his fingers over her cheek. “You sure you want me, Daph? I’m not a prize by any stretch of the imagination. I’m a former drunk. I killed a man. I spent time in prison. And I’m not the most fun person in the world. I’m not good at relaxing. I’m a stickler for discipline.”
“Discipline can be fun in the right places,” she teased, sliding a hand down the front of his jacket suggestively.
To her surprise—and pleasure—Wesley blushed. “I . . . haven’t dated anyone in a really, really long time.”
“Me either,” she admitted. “Not really, and not anyone I’ve had strong feelings for.” There’d been drug-fueled tour flings, but she couldn’t even remember them. They were part of the shameful past she’d left behind. “We’ll figure out dating again together.”
He gazed down at her face, stroking her cheek. “I worry I’m not good enough for you.”
“Why? Because of your past? You’re an ex-drunk. I’m an ex-druggie. The important part is that we keep it ‘ex’.”
“Because you’re a global superstar and rich and famous. Because you’re the funniest, smartest person I’ve ever met. Because you sparkle like no one else I’ve ever met and I’m just the guy that shoves carrot sticks at you when you want a cupcake. I’m probably all wrong for you.”
Daphne shook her head. “You’re the perfect man for me. You’ve supported me and been hard on me when I was weak. Everyone else lets me get what I want and that’s why I’ve failed so many times before. I never felt like anyone had my back in the past. They’d say they wanted me clean, and then they’d hand me drugs on the sly.” She smiled up at him. “You’re the first person to ever call me on my bullshit and . . . I kind of love it.”
“I love you,” he said, all seriousness and intensity. It took her breath away.
She crooked a finger at him. “Then come and show me.”
He leaned in, and his lips brushed over hers once more. Her arms went around his neck, and their mouths locked, and then the world was no bigger than the backseat of a cab creeping forward through icy streets. Their fingers interlocked, and Christmas music hummed through Daphne’s ears. Songs of hope and joy, of love and peace. Of family and sweethearts under mistletoe.