Page 2 of Mistletoe Madness

And since I couldn’t ...

Slowly, I skated my fingers over my torso, raising goosebumps in their wake, while imagining it was Nick who was touching me so gently. Unable to stop myself—notwantingto stop—my hand continued its exploration as the sounds from his room grew louder and more pronounced. When his partner shouted her praise of Jesus and all the saints, I slipped my fingers under the elastic waistband of my sleep shorts and headed toward the promised land. His headboard banged against the wall, and my fingers dipped lower.

Was it twisted that I was getting off to the sounds of my roommate fucking one of his co-workers? Yes. Did I care? Not particularly. I would regret it later, I knew, but there was nothing I needed more right now than to come. It had been weeks since I’d last taken matters into my own hands, so to speak, and if I didn’t get off now, it might be another couple of weeks before I would get another opportunity. Ever since I’d learned just how clearly sound traveled in this place, I’d become paranoid about what he might have heard before now, and I wasn’t taking any chances of a repeat of The Night That Changed Everything happening to me.

My toes curled when I circled my clit, and my breathing hitched as he groaned into the night. My hips bucked off the bed as I pushed myself higher and higher, my heels digging into the mattress as I matched the rhythm of his headboard bouncing against our shared wall. “Yes,” I heard him say as the same word slipped quietly from between my lips.

“Oh god,” I whispered, my fingers working faster, harder. “Fuck, yes. Just like that.”

The springs of his mattress squeaked as he drew nearer to orgasm, and then they went quiet altogether. The silence was briefly interrupted by the sound of him swearing and then groaning long and low as he came.

A second later, my thighs trembled, my toes pointed, and I followed him over the cliff.

For several minutes I lay there panting in the afterglow, my body feeling alternately sated and yet still needing more. As I came down from my endorphin high, all my good feelings evaporated. As predicted, my skin prickled with shame over what I’d just done. That was twice now I’d come to the sounds of Nick’s orgasm. The first time had been an honest mistake, but I’d known exactly what I was doing just now, but had proceeded to do it anyway. And while he was with someone else, too! How low could one woman possibly go?

I flung myself out of bed and grabbed my robe from the hook on the back of my door, afraid I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from finding out.

* * *

“Oh! Good morning,”I yelped, surprised to see Nick standing in the doorway to our kitchen wearing nothing but a pair of ratty flannel sleep pants. Briefly, I let my eyes trail over the defined ridges and valleys of his abs before tearing my gaze away. This was exactly what I’d hoped to avoid by getting out of bed at the ass crack of dawn.

I didn’t have to be in the office until eight, but since I’d been up all night tossing and turning anyhow, I’d decided to start my day a couple of hours early. While I’d be running on fumes come lunchtime, one upside to such an early morning was that I probably wouldn’t have to exchange pleasantries with Nick and his slumber party pal over coffee.

At least that’s what I’d been counting on.

He scratched the stubble lining his jaw and glanced around the kitchen in a sleepy daze. “What time is it?” he croaked, hoisting himself onto one of the galvanized steel and leather stools at our kitchen island.

“Five o’clock.”

His gaze shot to mine. “What the fuck? You’re never up this early.”

I set the coffee pot back on its warmer and stood at the sink staring out the window at the darkened alley behind our house so he couldn’t see the guilt on my face. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Nightmares again?” I heard him ask from behind me as the stool’s legs scraped over the slate floor.

When I’d first moved in with Nick, I’d woken up a few times in the middle of the night shouting obscenities as my subconscious relived the moment I learned my fiancé was a lying, cheating bastard. They weren’t nightmares so much as my mind’s way of dealing with the regret I’d forever feel over the fact that I’d stood there mute as that perky little nineteen year old bounced on Brayden’s cock like it was a pogo stick.

I shook my head. “No. I haven’t dreamed about them since July, at least. I’m mostly over it.”

“Mmm,” he hummed thoughtfully as he reached into the cupboard and pulled down the mug I’d given him earlier that summer. “That’s good, I suppose.”

I’d only lived with him for a handful of weeks when his mom stopped by unexpectedly one morning to invite me to dinner to celebrate Nick’s birthday. Since I hadn’t even known it was his birthday, I was caught off guard to have received an invite to his family’s celebration. The fact that the dinner was later that night caused no small amount of panic. Nick and I were still in the getting-to-know-you phase of our friendship, so shopping for a suitable gift for him proved somewhat stressful—especially since I’d only had thirty minutes on my lunch break in which to do it.

Since Nick worked in a research lab testing new medications before they came to market, when I saw a mug that said “I make horrible science puns but only periodically” at a small shop around the corner from my office, I thought it was the perfect gift. But then, as I sat in Nick’s mom’s living room and watched him open one extravagant present after another, I instantly regretted my choice of gift. Between the new leather briefcase he received form his mom, and the Red Sox tickets he’d gotten from his brother, my gift felt rather paltry. Still, I’d told myself, he was lucky I’d gotten him anything at all.

Which was why it never ceased to amaze me whenever he used it--and since I was the one who did the dishes, I knew that was practically every day. And that leather briefcase his mom had bought for him? It was still sitting on the top shelf of his closet wrapped in its protective covering. Maybe I wasn’t such a bad gift giver after all. Or maybe I justgothim.

“Itisgood,” I said, opening the refrigerator door and rooting around inside of it for something to eat before I left for the office. “My therapist says it means I’m finally ready to move on.”

Behind me, I heard him settling back onto his stool as I grabbed an egg and turkey sausage sandwich. Making sure not to catch his eye, I scuttled across the kitchen toward the microwave to heat it up.

“Move on?” he asked, lifting the mug to his perfect lips.

“You know, date,” I said, quickly moving to the trash can to throw away the tinfoil I’d wrapped my sandwich in when I’d made it that weekend for mornings such as this. “Speaking of, don’t you need to head back to your room? Your guest might get lonely.”

“My guest?”

“Yeah, you know. Whoever was in your room with you last night when you got home from the party—” I slapped my palm over my mouth and stared at him in wide-eyed horror. The whole point of not looking at him was so he wouldn’t be able to read the guilt on my face, but now I’d basically just admitted to listening in on his sexy shenanigans.

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