Page 60 of Daddies' Holiday Toy
Liam’s still tucking himself back into his jeans when footsteps move across the living room, heading right for us.
I grab my mug off the table, along with my half-finished plate, and bring it over to the sink to start the dishes and give myself something to do while my entire body comes down from that high.
Jack appears first in the archway, brushing off some stray bits of snow from his jacket.
“Did we miss anything?” he asks casually, shrugging out of it.
My hands are shaking while I flip on the water and dunk the plates under the spray.
My throat aches from what just happened, and it feels so damn good. “Not much.”
Beside me, Liam’s leaning one hip against the counter, his expression easy-going while he nods at his friend before downing the rest of his coffee.
But when he glances over at me as he hands off his empty mug, there’s heat still simmering in his eyes.
For the rest of the day, I’m caught in this low, steady hum of awareness that I can’t seem to shake.
My body has somehow been tuned to his frequency, reacting every time Liam so much as shifts in my peripheral vision.
I try not to watch him, I really do, but it’s hard not to when I keep catching those quick, almost casual glances he throws my way.
They never linger for long, but they still manage to burn like a fingerprint pressed into my skin.
The way he keeps gravitating toward me should mean nothing.
The blowjob had been a one-time thing.
A deal struck, a transaction complete.
An acceptable payment for our agreement, one of those messy but neatly contained mistakes you put in a box in your head and pretend you’ll never open again.
Except…
That doesn’t explain the way his arm brushes mine while we’re sitting on the couch later that evening, watching some scratched DVD from the cabin’s collection.
It doesn’t explain the slow, deliberate lean when he dips close enough to tuck a stray piece of hair behind my ear, his knuckles ghosting my cheek, right when the movie swells into its climax.
And it really doesn’t explain why I catch him watching me instead of the TV.
If this is just a one-time thing, why does he keep doing this?
Why does he make me feel like there’s more coming just beyond the horizon?
I should be keeping my distance.
I should make sure it doesn’t happen again because wewillbe caught.
The worst part is?
I’m not sure I want to stop.
16
REECE
It’s pushing late afternoon when I catch sight of Liam out by the firepit, pacing in a wide arc through the snow with his phone held high over his head like some kind of backwoods scientist tracking alien activity.
I stand on the landing just outside the door for a minute, leaning my upper half against the railing and watch him with more amusement that is probably necessary.
