Page 43 of The Holiday Hookup List
So I sink onto the couch beside her, and I don’t mention my mother’s directive that I drop everything and fly to Paris.
Because I’ve already decided. There’s no way I’m abandoning Valencia. Not now. Not ever, if I can help it.
I cup her face in my hands, kissing her with lazy strokes of my tongue until the tension seeps out of her and she melts against my chest.
With our foreheads touching, I whisper into the scant space between us. “Better?”
“Much. Thank you.”
“Anytime.” I mean it with every fiber of my being.
We finish the movie and put on the sequel, and eat so much gingerbread we feel sick.
But in the back of my mind, I can’t stop thinking about how our twelve-day adventure is coming to an end.
And how desperate I am for it to continue.
So I come to another conclusion. I am not going to Paris, but Iamaccompanying Valencia to the Mulhollands’ for Christmas Eve.
Whether she likes it or not.
Chapter 17
Valencia
Day 11: Mutual Masturbation & Miniature Trains
Despite our argument, my weekend with Gideon is amazing. Anal was ... I hesitate to saytranscendent, because that sounds hyperbolic, so let’s just say it wasreally fucking good. Also ... surprisingly emotional.
Since neither of us have work the next day, I spend Sunday night at his place, too. I fall asleep nestled securely in his arms, but when I wake on Monday morning, a ball of dread settles into my gut.
Tomorrow is Christmas Eve.
Our list is almost done, and the thought of not seeing him every day already has me feeling bereft.
Look, I know I’m a lot. When Gideon suggested we do holiday shit together, he probably thought it would be one or two activities. I plannedtwelve—twenty-four, if you count all the sexy prompts, too. A lot of people might have bailed, or only wanted to do the sex stuff. Gideon, however, has not only indulged, butexpanded uponevery silly whim I’ve thrown his way.
Like the banned-book ornaments. Or buying six vibrators. Or decorating his bedroom to look like theNorth Fucking Pole.
But then he had to go and get us matching Christmas pajamas, and that, somehow, was the thing that broke me.
Part of me wishes he’d stop being so considerate, because it’s just going to make it harder to say goodbye. The other part wants to build a blanket fort on his ridiculous leather couch and move in.
But the end of the list isn’t the only thing weighing on me.
The moment we complete our final outing in Dyker Heights, Brooklyn, where the residents go all out with Christmas lights, I’ll be on my way to Christmas Eve dinner with the Mulhollands.
Including Everett.
Talk about emotional whiplash.
Still, I’m determined not to let an anxiety spiral or thoughts of my ex ruin my morning. Not when mutual masturbation is on the menu.
When Gideon and I made the list, we went back and forth about this prompt. Would we be bringing each other to orgasm, or doing it solo at the same time? The thought of watching Gideon jerk himself off was too enticing to pass up, so I insisted on the latter.
And oh, man, was that the right choice.
I recline on his bed, propped up on pillows, my hand between my legs. He’s across the room in a plush armchair, fully naked, stroking his lubed cock with strong, sure pulls. Everything about him, from his lean runner’s build to his big hands to his heavy erection and tight balls, makes me hot.
