Page 52 of Grinchland
In all honesty, yesterday had felt like a date to me even though I’d packaged it up in my mind as just another one of the Christmas activities she was forcing me to participate in. But today felt different. Today felt wanted.
Desired.
That thought plagued me all day. I tried to keep my head straight as I listened to Todd during our morning meeting. I tried to keep my focus during my meeting with sanitation. I tried to keep Clara out of my mind as I answered emails and cleaned out my desk, but I failed miserably.
She had wiggled her way into my life and was becoming impossible to forget.
That night, during play practice, I tried to keep my gaze down and my attention on helping the kids find their marks and understand their cues, but I kept getting distracted by the way Clara’s nose wrinkled when she thought something was cute, or the way her smile grew big every time Isabelle practically yelled her lines.
Apparently to Clara, Scrooge was the best part for Isabelle. And even though Isabelle had no idea who Scrooge was, she was determined to give the part her all. That little girl was acting her heart out, and Clara was eating it up.
And I was falling even harder for Clara as I watched her encourage, smile at, and cheer on Isabelle every time she delivered her lines without messing up.
I never thought I would feel so much desire for a woman who wasn’t paying attention to me. Back when I was dating Nicole, I loved it when she smiled at me from the other side of the room. When she would sneak up next to me and grab my hand. Or when her gaze held mine as she walked toward me.
But watching a woman love my daughter—that was a level of attraction that I had never experienced before. It sent a whole new level of desire coursing through me.
So when play practice was over and I’d fed, bathed, and pajamaed my daughter, I waited for Isabelle to fall asleep in her bed before I scooped her up and made my way over to Clara’s.
After Isabelle was tucked in under Clara’s covers and we’d made our way out into the hallway, I didn’t waste any time pinning Clara against the wall and kissing her with all my pent-up feelings. She giggled against my lips as her hands found my chest and her fingers curled into the fabric of my shirt like she’d been waiting for this moment. I growled and wrapped my arms around her waist and hoisted her up so she was higher than me.
She parted her lips and my tongue danced around hers. Our lips moved in unison as if we both wanted to feel and touch as much as we could. She wrapped her legs around my waist, her blonde hair falling around my head, creating a curtain around us.
I didn’t break off our kiss as I carried her from the hall to the living room. Once I felt the couch bump the back of my legs, I lowered myself down. Clara straddled me, her arms on either side of my head and her hands holding onto the back of the couch.
I let my hands explore her waist, her hips, until I brought them to her thighs and dug my fingertips into the soft material of her jeans in an effort to bring her closer to me. She complied, rising up slightly onto her knees so she could press her chest against mine. She never broke our kiss, instead, her lips drew my face upward.
I could have kissed Clara all night, but she seemed to have a different plan as, suddenly, she pulled back.
“I have something for you,” she said. She pressed her fingertips to her lips a few times as she moved to sit further back on my thighs.
I wanted to yank her back to me and kiss her again, but she looked so excited, so I just knit my eyebrows together. “You do?” I asked as I glanced around, wondering what on earth she could have gotten me.
She nodded and started to shift her weight, so I helped her off my lap. I settled back against the couch and watched as she hurriedly left the living room. Now alone, I blew out my breath and tipped my head back against the wall. I closed my eyes and just allowed myself to feel. To be in this moment.
Kissing Clara was quickly becoming my drug, and that both scared and exhilarated me.
“I found it,” she sang out.
I glanced up to see her enter the room from the kitchen. She had a white bag in her hand and a mischievous grin on her lips.
I frowned. “What is that?”
She crossed the space between us and sat down on the couch, her knees pressed into my thigh. “Open it,” she said as she dropped the bag in my lap.
I studied her before I slowly took the bag. “You should know that I hate surprises,” I said as I found one of the handles and then the second one.
“I know, but this is a good surprise,” she said, her voice steeped in excitement.
I narrowed my eyes but then decided to stop being so cynical and just open her gift. As soon as I saw the green and red fabric of a Christmas sweater, I whipped my gaze over to meet hers. She was grinning from ear to ear with her hands clasped in front of her like she was trying with all her might to contain her excitement.
“It’s a?—”
“It’s a Christmas sweater!” she squealed as she moved to shake out the sleeves of the sweater that I was now holding up in front of me.
“—sweater.” I finally finished.
“Do you like it?”
