Page 121 of Nice Guys Don't Kiss Like That At Christmas
He starts moving again, more purposeful now, his thumb finding that sensitive bundle of nerves between my legs."Come for me," he urges, his voice rough with need."Want to feel you fall apart."
My body tightens.As he continues, dirtier, spicier, very much him and all book boyfriends combined.
And I'm coming undone, pleasure washing through me in waves as I clench around him.He follows seconds later, burying his face in my neck to muffle his groan as he pulses inside me.
For a moment we breathe together, his forehead pressed against mine, our hearts racing in tandem.I trace my fingers along his jaw, as the tension slowly eases from his muscles.
"Good morning to you too," I finally say, and his smile makes my heart beat faster.
"The best," he agrees, pressing a kiss to my temple."Though we should probably actually shower before we use all of Sally's hot water."
"Multitasking," I correct, reluctantly unwinding my legs from his waist."Very efficient."
His eyes darken as he watches me reach for the shampoo."I've always appreciated your efficiency."
“Efficiency,” I murmur.“Is a better word for cold.”I’m not hurt.I’m redefining.
Adam looks at me, massaging my scalp.“Coldness means you’re more careful with who you show your warmth.Because trust me, Foster, you’re warm.You’re there for your friends, funny, caring in more ways than one.You’re gooey on the inside.Sometimes ice cream on the outside.And it doesn’t make you any less than someone who is sunshine all the time.”
He washes my hair and I rub his shoulders, touching him.Not able to stop touching him.Not being made awkward because I’m touching him.
"My therapist once asked why I care when people call me cold."I rest my hands in my lap, conscious of keeping them still."I thought it was Chuck getting under my skin, but it's deeper than that."
The memory of how Chuck's attitude shifted makes me tense."Chuck used to tease me about it at first.'There goes Eve, turning down another invitation.'Like it was this quirky thing he found endearing."I shake my head slightly."Then after we got married, those jokes became pointed comments.Questions about why I couldn't 'network properly' or 'play the game.'As if my selective social circle was holding back his career."I pause, working through the realization that still stings."After I found him with Jennie, I learned he'd cheated multiple times during our marriage.One of them was with this wedding planner he met at a conference.Total social butterfly, knew everyone on the West Coast medical circles.He told her that I had served him with divorce papers.Showed them fake ones.And turns out he made her feel like she was 'too much.'Too loud, too connected, too present."
My voice hardens."It was never about how I interacted with people.He needed something to criticize, something to make me feel like I wasn't enough exactly as I was.So he could justify looking elsewhere while making it seem like my fault."
Adam wraps his arms around me.“I hate the guy.And I hate what he put you through.”
I lift a shoulder, cozy and toasty and right where I belong."There's nothing wrong with being the nurse who knows everyone in the hospital.Claire's like that.She thrives on connecting with dozens of people.And there's nothing wrong with being more selective either.Both can be good approaches."I take a steadying breath.“I work with dozens of people every day.I'm good at it: consulting with doctors, coordinating with other nurses, guiding patients through procedures.Efficient.But at the end of shift, it's always been Claire or a handful of others I actually grab coffee with.Not the big happy hours with tons of people."
We rinse each other off and step out of the shower, enveloping each other in pink towels and warm and comfy bathrobes.I continue, "I was like that even before I got sick at nineteen.Growing up, I had three close friends, not twenty.Maybe getting cancer amplified it, but the foundation was always there."
“Do you miss it?”Adam asks as we watch the snow fall.“The Cape.”
I consider deflecting, but find myself answering honestly.“Sometimes.The way the light hits the water in winter.The walks on the beach.The flowers, there.My family.How the whole town transforms between seasons - not just the landscape but the rhythm, the people.”
As soon as we’re out and dressed, the buzz of connection still lingering under my skin, I keep thinking about that word.Cold.The way it’s been used against me.The way I’ve weaponized it for survival.But today, it’s something else.Strategic.And right now?That part of me that organizes chaos, sees all the angles before anyone else, knows details about people, clicks back into place like a well-prepped surgical tray.
Because I know Chuck.
And if he thinks I’m going to wait around for his podcast to drop like a slow-rolling bomb, he’s underestimated me again.
There’s got to be a way to stop him before he releases anything.
And I’m going to find it.
An hour later after a delicious breakfast where Sally announced the end of renovation (such an interesting timing), we're walking the dogs through town square, Blanche maintaining a dignified pace while Dorothy darts between snow piles, and LoverBoy chases her, leaving chaotic paw prints.Adam's hand is warm in mine despite the December chill, his shoulder occasionally bumping against mine in a way that feels deliberate, possessive.
Pine Creek is Christmas-card perfect this morning.Fresh snow dusts the storefronts, holiday lights twinkle despite the daylight, and Sally's done her part to ensure every lamppost has a wreath.
"You're quiet," Adam says, using his free hand to stop Dorothy from eating something suspicious in the snow.
"Good quiet or bad quiet?"
"Different quiet."His thumb traces circles on my palm, sending warmth up my arm."Like you're calculating something."
I smile, tugging Blanche away from an alarming Christmas gnome display."I'm thinking that I love you."
