Page 75 of Mistletoe Misses
Kendall:When is he not?
Cooper:Don’t forget… Strong smells in confined spaces (like cars) make Izzie nauseous. Forgo cologne and perfume.
Kendall:I remembered.
Aaron:Gotta change.
Cooper:Unbelievable.
???
Standing outside Carmen’s door in my red button-down shirt and jeans—the best I could do on such short notice—I’ve got the jittery nerves of a hormonal teenager. The image of her in atight top, flowy skirt with faux fur trim, and shiny boots like in the window painting has disrupted my entire day. I made little progress on my task list, anticipating this very moment.
I raise a fist to knock at the same time the door swings open. Carmen, in the most perfect outfit for her delectable shape, leans on the doorframe and beckons me with her eyes. Her hair flows over the fur lining of the low dip of fabric across her breasts and up her shoulders. The fur on the skirt stops at mid-thigh above a teasing of fishnet hose and black high-heeled boots
“Damn.”
Young Carmen made me want to sing with her, curl up by a fire to read, and take long walks along the river. Finally being able to appreciate the woman she’s become brings a whole new list of activities to mind—most of which are unspeakable in this stage of our exploratory situationship.
“Does that mean you like what you see?” she asks, stealing the air from my lungs with a new sultry wisp in her tone.
“More than I can say.”
“You wouldn’t be breaking any rules if you did. We’re both adults.”
“Maybe later. Right now, all I want to do is kiss you.”
She smiles, knowing she has me right where she wants me. “What are you waiting for?”
Taking her face in my hands, I find her waiting lips and walk her backwards until she lies back on the couch to receive me. I catch myself before crushing her and use my position to sustain a slow, savoring pace.
“You’re so beautiful.” The words tumble out of my mouth without the eloquence she deserves. She’s always been the standard, and that will never change.
Her eyes glisten with either gratitude or sorrow, I can’t tell, and before I can study her further, she hides her face in the curve of my neck. “I could stay here in your arms all night.”
“But we have plans.”
“Exactly.”
I press my lips to her cheek then stand, lifting her off the couch. “Maybe we can come back here after we finish crawling.”
Her head tilts in amusement. “Is that a baby step or drunken date reference?”
“Doesn’t matter. Either way, I have a feeling I’ll be on my knees for you tonight.”
???
Carmen
How am I supposed to respond to that? I’m silently begging my body to move. To drag him by the collar to my bedroom to see if he’ll follow through on that prediction stone-cold sober.
Sadly, my rational side takes charge and makes me say, “Let’s go enjoy ourselves and see where we land.”
He helps me into my long coat, and we find the others waiting for us outside the store.
“’Bout time,” Aaron fusses, adjusting the oversized belly under his traditional Santa costume. He holds up the event flier—our signal to follow him—and leads the way toward the first bar.
At the back of the group, Maddox threads his fingers with mine, and I lean into him to whisper, “I was too busy seducing you to tell you how gorgeous you look in all your sexy Santa-ness.”
