Page 8 of A Very Bumpy Christmas
“It looks fake,” she says, teeth chattering through a laugh.
“It’s real,” I say, voice low, hands already loosening the blanket to wrap it around her shoulders. She shivers and leans instinctively into me when I step closer to share heat. The move isn’t calculated. It’s magnetic.
“Thanks,” she murmurs, tilting a fraction so her temple brushes my jaw. The contact is light. Enough to change the temperature of the night.
I should step back. I don’t.
She turns, the blanket tugging between us, and looks up at me. Close. Closer than all my good intentions. Up this close I can see the gold flecks in her eyes. A small scar on her chin I didn’tnotice inside. The way her mouth finds a smile even when she isn’t fully meaning to.
“I don’t do complicated,” I say, because if I say it out loud it counts as a plan.
“Me neither,” she says, voice barely above the hush of the pines.
We stand there, two liars telling the truth the only way we can: by not moving apart.
“Okay,” she whispers, like we’ve negotiated something. “Then we keep it simple.”
“How?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.
“Start with this,” she says, and lifts on her toes.
The first kiss lands like a slow exhale, like dropping a pack after a long march. Warm and careful, then warmer, less careful. I feel her hands fist in the front of my jacket, the small tug that saysdon’t go far.I don’t plan to.
We head inside, quickly and quietly, to the guest room.
The fire roars in the room, and I lean in, claiming her lips once more. I manage to lock the door with her barely noticing.
She kisses me harder, both of us making our way toward the bed in the center of the room. I laugh as we fall in a pile of tangled limbs.
“Shhh,” she whispers. “We don’t want to wake up the whole house.”
I make the motion of zipping my lips, and her eyes blaze at me. She’s so fucking beautiful.
When I first met Melanie this isn’t where I expected the night to go, but had kinda hoped. Who am I kidding? I’ve wanted this woman since the moment I saw her.
“You’re so fucking pretty,” I tell her, reaching for her once more, kissing the ever loving fuck out of her.
She laughs and the sound resonates deep within my chest. “You’re not too bad either.”
I kiss the top of her forehead, my hands plunging into her dark wavy hair. I pull back to study the exact shade of her coffee-colored eyes. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” I ask, not wanting to dive into the meaning behind it.
If she lived here. If I lived there. If it was another time, maybe we could be something more. But I don’t want her to take what tonight is to mean anything more than it is. A one-time thing. Although, I don’t know how I’ll get enough of her. Once definitely won’t be enough time.
She nods. “I’m good.” Her eyes darken. “Are you?”
I smile, my hands moving from her lustrous hair and down her long, slender neck. “I’m more than okay.” And now I want her to know me.
To know what we can be together.
She rises from the bed, and I sit on the edge of it, watching her. Studying her. Wanting her to know everything about me in this snap of time we have together.
I keep moving down her body, taking my time until my hands land on the hem of her t-shirt. I lift and she raises her arms in the most seductive way. Wow.
My heartbeat amps up as I gaze at her sexy red bra.Did she wear this thing for me?
I’d like to think she did, even though when she got dressed this morning she had no clue I existed. Well, time to change all of that.
I reverently cup her breasts, my hands over the thin lace of her bra. The top of her tits spill out, and I move my head closer, wanting a taste. I pay attention to the way her fingers travel through my hair. It drives me crazy… in the good kinda way.
