Page 85 of Until You Found Me

“You’re intoxicated.”

She smiles, squeezing his arms. “A little. Not enough that it isn’t true.”

“You want your present now or later?”

“Present? But I didn’t get you anything.”

“Not that kinda present.” He settles both hands at her hips, thumbs stroking into the dips beside the bone.

“Oh, I want it now.”

“You’re sure? Need to know it’s you saying yes and not the wine.”

“It’s definitely me.” She’s a little wobbly, but she can make clear decisions. Even if she was completely wasted, she wouldn’t regret being with him.

His eyes darken, hands stroking firmly over her hips with intention. Then there it is again, a brief flicker of doubt, something uncertain like he’s looking at a stranger. She’s tried to ignore the few other times she’s noticed it, but it’s heightened now and she can’t look away.

“You still think I’m someone else, don’t you?” she says suddenly. That made more sense in her head, so she tries again. “You look at me sometimes like you think I’ll wake up one day and be someone else. That when I remember I won’t be me anymore.”

He lowers his head, his words as soft as his heart. “I just wanna keep you, that’s all.”

“You can. You can keep me forever, Logan.”

An electric beat stutters between them until his expression lightens, and he moves in close to tease a whisper against her neck, following it up with a flick of his tongue. “You sure you want that present now?”

She laughs. “Mhhm.”

He is quick after that, two hands reaching down to grab her ass until she lets out a squeak and then her pants are pulled down and she’s backed up toward the bench until her legshit the cushion and she sits. She is never shy around him anymore. It doesn’t bother her that she’s half naked in the twinkle of Christmas lights with her pants flung down the hall. She spreads her legs for him as he kneels on the ground to press his face where she’s warm and slick.

The swiftness with which they got here calms once the flat of his tongue gives her a strong lick. The whole world slows and gentles while he traces a wet journey down to her entrance before curling inside, her hips lifting in encouragement until his nose pushes at her softest places.

She’s never had sex while drunk. At least, she doesn’t remember if she has. Her whole body is heavy and languid. Long legs drape over his shoulders. Her gaze momentarily on the ceiling fan that was stationary a moment ago but every time she turns her head it spins a fraction and right now that’s the best thing she’s ever seen. She does it again, looking up and then away, watching everything take a moment to catch up. She is suspended between the welcome sensations of a buzz and Logan’s mouth building a flutter between her thighs and she sinks into that delay, wishing she could live right here where everything is simple, right, perfect.

Her eyes slip shut the closer she gets, body sliding down to the edge of the seat to chase his tongue. Two thick fingers push up into her and she clenches around him hard, rocking against the digits keeping her open, letting out a sigh of relief when he begins to curl those fingers into a delicate stroke along her ridged walls. The clink of his belt tells her to expect the length of him soon, but he keeps up that same tempo and his hand never wavers. She is coaxed to the edge both inside and out until her seams split apart, rolling her body from the top of her spine to the tip of her toes. He follows her untilshe’s supple and boneless, oversensitive enough that his last lick makes her whimper.

“Merry Christmas.” He sits back to have a look at her and she wonders if she’s wearing the same expression of satisfaction as he is.

She braces a foot on his chest. “Merrier Christmas? You can find your present about eight inches deep.”

Logan offers her a sheepish brow raise, glancing downward until she notices his cock already out, half hard but clearly spent. “I ah, I already did. I tried to wait, but you were…and then you…and I couldn’t.”

He came without her even touching him. The sight, scent, and taste of her were enough to get him there. She sits up, a knot in her throat forming, the wine spinning her emotions like a spider’s web. “You make me feel special, you know that? Always.”

The oven timer goes off before he can reply and she groans, gathering her pants while he rushes to wash up and fetch the food.

“Come on, let’s eat. I’m starving,” he says.

“Little greedy aren’t you? You just ate.”

It’s a deadpan joke that has him dropping his head with a huff, the back of his neck crimson while she laughs.

* * *

The Christmas station isn’t all Christmas music. She discovers that when ‘At Last’ begins to serenade them. Her eyes sparkle, belly full of a good dinner, and her blood singing with sweet wine. Everything in her screams to take advantage of thismoment. If she ever has a chance at getting Logan to dance, it’s now, in the privacy of their own home and with the smallest bit of alcohol, dulling his inhibitions. He had far less than her, but it might be enough.

She gets up to hold out a hand in his direction. “May I have this dance, good sir?”

“I dunno how.”

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