Page 18 of Christmas in Comets Valley
Taking a minute to catch my breath, I lifted my head to meet his eyes. “That’swhat it feels like to not do all the work myself?” I asked with widened eyes and a slacked jaw.
The corners of his lips twitched. “Yup.”
“Okay, I’m ready to go again.” I threw my head back against the pillow again, and Elliot let out a roaring chuckle.
I was surprised to find myself smiling down at him with softened eyes. Maybe, just maybe, I liked hearing him laugh.
6
AERA
I dozedin and out of wakefulness, making no convincing attempts to take the full plunge into the day ahead as I soaked up the warmth pressed against my back and extended over my stomach. Curling deeper into the heat, the sheets rustled around me as the heat pulled me in closer.
Oh, my god.
That warmness I felt wasn’t coming from the covers… it was Elliot.
My eyes shot open, and I was instantly ripped from the bliss of my dream state and faced with the crushing reality of last night's hook-up staying over.
I remember passing out somewhere after orgasm number three — or was it four?—andvaguelyremember convincing him that sleeping in my bed would be a lot more comfortable than the couch.
I peered over my shoulder and sucked in a small gasp seeing Elliot’s arms contently wrapped around my waist and his shirtless torso pressed against my very naked body.
I slept with a stranger. Oh god, and Isleptwith a stranger.
Even more shocking than that, it was the best damn sex of my entire life. Granted, that wasn’t hard to beat, but it was a milestone, nonetheless.
Glancing at the clock, I realized it was only a few minutes past five, which I should’ve guessed since that was my usual wake-up time for work. Turns out old habits did, in fact, die hard, even on vacation.
Slowly slipping out of bed, I tiptoed to the bathroom to pee and threw on my decade-oldHitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxyt-shirt from the dirty clothes pile I made on the floor. It was gross, but my options were limited unless I wanted to wake the man sleeping soundly in my bed.
Thankfully, when I snuck back into the bedroom, Elliot had turned on his side, facing away from me. Carefully peeling back the covers, I crawled back into bed, but not before shoving a king pillow between the two of us as a barrier.
When I woke again an hour and a half later, I felt a sense of relief wash over me when I gazed over to find that the other half of the bed was not only empty, but looked like it hadn’t been slept in. If it wasn’t for the aching feeling between my thighs, I would’ve thought that I’d imagined the last fourteen hours.
I rolled onto my back and stared up at the ceiling. A few minutes passed spent trying to gather my thoughts, but the one that stuck out most was how much I missed Elliot’s warmth cloaked around me when I woke again. My second thought was consumed by the small pang of sadness, knowing I’d probably never hear his stupid laugh again.
Taking a deep breath, I pushed away the thoughts. I was leaving today anyway, and the best part about him leaving first was that it saved us the awkwardness of a goodbye.
Peeling back the covers, the crisp December air sent goose bumps prickling across my bare legs. I sauntered over to the closet and pulled out a pair of black sweatpants and a thick gray cardigan from my suitcase and threw them on.
After brushing my hair and teeth in the en suite, I stepped out into the short hallway and bent down to pet Mr. Whiskers before wandering down the steps.
Much to my surprise, when I reached the bottom, there was a tall, half-naked man standing in the kitchen with his back facing me. My mouth dropped open at the sight of Elliot firing up the coffeemaker.
“You’re still here,” I said in a soft voice, any louder and it would’ve given away the shock that was laced in my tone.
Elliot turned around, and I could see a flash of surprise flash over his face before he broke into a closed-mouth smile and focused his attention back to the coffee machine. It was a bit reassuring knowing he was equally as startled to see me as I was him.
“I’m making coffee. You want some?”
I nodded, forgetting his back was turned to me. “I, uh, thought you left.”
“I was waiting for my shirt to finish in the dryer.” He nudged his head toward the small laundry room off the kitchen. “News said they plowed the roads earlier this morning, and I already shoveled the snow off of your car.”
“Oh, thanks. You didn’t have to do that,” I whispered shyly. Before this, I could count on one hand the number of times I’d been shy in this lifetime, but now I was adding a sixth finger over some morning-after chatter? I should’ve been ashamed of myself.
“I don’t mind.” He handed me over a coffee mug with an image of dancing Jesus hand painted on it. “You still planning on leaving today?”
