Page 45 of The Grumpiest Elf

Of course, part of me also thought that might be pointless because Iamgoing back to Seattle in a few short weeks. Classes start up again the Monday after New Year’s, and I usually like to get back in town on Saturday so I have a day to relax and make sure I have everything together before jumping back into the grind. Now I might wait to head back until Sunday, just to get as much extra time with Lydia as I can before I have to go …

Never in a million years would I have guessed my relationship with Lydia could undergo such a drastic about-face in such a short amount of time, though. And if it hadn’t been for that downed tree, it wouldn’t have. We’d be on the other timeline, where I hope she gets comfortable enough with me to relax and be herself instead of the cold, distant version of her I’ve been getting until yesterday. And she did relax around me some at the Christmas party, working together to entertain the kids.

Even during the initial crisis of realizing we were trapped and scrounging for bedding and snacks, we were in that same sort of work-mode rapport—which, granted, is better than we’d had for sure. But it was once we were settling in for the night, talking and sharing that things started changing. Waking up tangled up together is what clinched it.

My smile pulls wider at the memory of her, warm and soft in my arms.

I want that again.

The thought echoes through me like a gong, as forceful as Martin with the bullhorn he used that summer I worked construction for him. That bullhorn is a big part of the reason I never worked construction for him again.

The problem is, as much as I want to wake up with Lydia curled against me, soft and sweet, with all the time in the world to explore each other, I don’t have any idea how to make that happen.

I mentioned the possibility of coming to visit her here once I’m back at school, but I wonder if she’d be willing to come visit me too? That would make that fantasy more possible. Maybe we could go somewhere together for spring break …

I’m getting ahead of myself, though.

The point is, we have time. Not a lot of it right now, but just because I’m going back to school doesn’t mean what we’re starting now has to end prematurely.

Maybe she’ll change her mind and go back to school too …

That would be the ideal solution, though the way she reacted to my curiosity about how long of a break she’s planning means I shouldn’t bring it up again any time soon.

I might be a jackass, but I’m not adumbass.

I can still taste her kisses on my lips when I get home, and I’m grateful that Nora’s out somewhere with friends and Mom and Dad are talking quietly in the kitchen when I come inside. Poking my head in, I say, “I’m home. Gonna head to bed.”

They both give me warm smiles of acknowledgment. “Night, sweetie,” Mom says.

Normally I might linger, but I’m aching from the effects of Lydia’s kisses, and I need to deal with the situation sooner than later. Or at least, Iwantto deal with it, and talking to my parents for a while is just going to kill my boner before I can get the relief I’d prefer.

Well, the available relief I’d prefer, anyway. I’d much rather have Lydia than my right hand, but I’ll take what I can get for now.

Once in my room, I immediately start stripping off my clothes, leaving them where they land, picturing what I’d do if Lydia were here. First, I’d kiss her. Her kisses are amazing—sweet and tentative to start, but more aggressive the longer we kiss. In the truck, she was practically crawling in my lap to get closer to me, and if I’d had enough brain cells to spare, I’d have moved the seat back to give her the room to do it. But I couldn’t manage to pull back from her long enough, take my hands off her long enough, to find the lever to make it happen.

Instead, she was halfway perched on the center console, bumping her head into the ceiling of the cab in an effort to get to me, her small hands on my face, my neck, gripping my jacket.

I returned her efforts equally, groping and pulling as much as I could, cursing the winter and the fact that she was so totally covered that I couldn’t get to any bare skin except for that offered by the scoop neck of her sweater dress. Instead I contented myself with feeling her ass, her tits, her waist over her clothes while kissing her like my life depended on it.

I’ve never touched her skin—does she wear things on purpose to stymie me or is that just how she dresses normally?—and I’m beginning to regret my gentlemanly impulse this morning that had me tugging the sweater back down over the cami she slept in last night and suggesting we wait to find somewhere better to have sex the first time than the cushions on the floor of the dressing room at Hudgins House.

I was trying to do things right with her, cognizant of how badly I’d screwed up the start of our relationship with my asshole behavior. I wanted to take her out on a date at least once before getting her naked. It seemed like the right thing to do.

But I wasn’t thinking about the impossibility of getting the kind of privacy we had this morning again. When and where will we find that?

The hotel idea is sounding better and better, but I also know that ChristmasFest brings in a lot of people and a hotel room might be difficult to come by. We could go somewhere a little farther away … maybe an hour or so?

That’s an idea.

The skin of her neck and upper chest were so soft under my lips, I can’t wait to discover if she’s that soft everywhere.

Fully naked now, I lay on my bed, my hand gripping my weeping dick and giving it a firm squeeze. I slick my hand over the head, catching the precum that’s seeping out in anticipation of seeing Lydia naked for the first time.

God, I hope it’s soon.

My hand moves faster as I relive waking up with her this morning, fantasizing about what I would’ve done if I hadn’t felt so gentlemanly, the way she kissed me tonight, what it could’ve been like if it were summer and we could’ve driven out to one of the abandoned spots where people like to go stargazing.

I could’ve made us a soft spot in the bed of the truck, the warm summer night air kissing our naked skin …

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