My heart tumbles in a spiral as I step aside. “Sure, of course.”
“Thanks, Twigs.” He steps into the bathroom and shuts the door.
Well . . .
I consider texting Mia, but I’m honestly stunned and don’t have it in me. He didn’t kiss me, which makes me teary.
You’re being ridiculous. Maybe he needed to pee. Maybe he was tired.
And maybe I’m emotional because I’m tired from not sleeping much last night—thank you, Crew, for sensational sex—and it’s Christmas morning and I’m not with my family. If I was, we’d be sitting around unwrapping presents and listening to A Christmas Story as background noise. But I can’t let Crew see me upset or he’ll worry, and he doesn’t need that this morning. This is a hard day for him too, and his first away from his family.
The door to the bathroom opens, and my heart stills, tears welling in my eyes, and I curse myself for being too sensitive.
Pull it together, Hazel.
“There’s my girl,” Crew says. He charges toward the bed and pushes me back on the mattress, shocking me as he cups my cheek and presses his lips to mine. “Mm, Merry Christmas, Haze.”
“M-merry Christmas,” I say as a tear slips down my cheek.
“Hey, why are you crying?”
I wipe it away and take a deep breath. Everything is fine.
Stop with the emotions.
“Nothing.” I smile up at him. “Did you sleep okay?”
His brow is still pulled together as he studies me. “Yeah, but I want to talk about what has you upset.”
“It’s really stupid and I’d rather not say.”
“When has that ever gotten you out of telling me the truth?” He presses another kiss to my lips, his minty breath matching mine. “Talk to me, Haze.”
“It’s really, really stupid.” Another tear falls and I curse myself.
“Clearly not stupid enough. Spill.”
Sighing, I press my palm to my eye, rubbing it. “I expected you to, I don’t know, be all kissy this morning.”
“Uh, I thought I was kissing you. Shit, have I been kissing you wrong this whole time?”
“See, I told you this was stupid.”
“No, it’s not. I won’t joke. Go on.”
I bite on the corner of my lip, looking to the side, and decide to just go with the truth. “Last night meant a lot to me and I wasn’t sure if it meant the same to you. I thought if you woke up this morning and acted as if nothing happened that maybe it was just a night to you. When we ran into each other outside the bathroom, I guess I expected you to kiss me is all, and you didn’t, which made me think that last night was just fun for you, and that’s fine. It was fun for me too—”
He presses his hand to my mouth, silencing me. Looking me in the eyes, he says, “It meant so much to me, Hazel. Last night, was . . . fuck, I don’t even know how to describe it. It shifted my whole world on its axis, and I woke up this morning fucking happy. Excited. Thrilled. I didn’t kiss you right away because I wanted to brush my teeth first. But tomorrow morning, when you wake up in my arms, I’ll be sure to just go for it, minty mouth or not.”
His thumb strokes my cheek, and I swear, in that moment, something cracks opens in me. I can feel it in my chest, a burst of . . . of . . . hell, of love.
I love him.
I know I do. It’s so easy for me to admit that to myself. I think I’ve loved him for a very long time, and this moment right here, with him staring at me, touching me intimately as if I’m the most precious thing he’s ever held—it confirms those feelings.
I’m not just infatuated with Crew Smith, but I’m in love with him.
“You okay, now?” he asks.
I nod. “Yes. Sorry for being a girl.”
“I’m not sorry you’re a girl. Pretty happy about it, actually.” He chuckles. “You know, because of your amazing tits.”
I push at him but he pins my hands to the sides of my head, and he moves his body so it lines up with mine. He lowers and presses his mouth to mine. I open up, accepting, enjoying every aspect of this man.
“Why did you get dressed?” he asks, moving his mouth to my jaw and then my neck. “You know I’m going to need you naked for the remainder of this trip.”
“I’m not going outside naked,” I protest as he lets go of my hands and drags my nightgown up and over my head, exposing my naked body.
“That’s what I like to see. I still can’t believe I’m getting to see you naked, Haze. You’re so goddamn gorgeous.” His large hand starts at my neck and slowly drags down my body until it reaches the spot between my legs.
I don’t even have to think about it at this point. My legs just fall open for him, and he presses his palm to my pubic bone.
“Do you want to open presents first, or do you want to come first?”
“You let me come first every time last night.”
His dark eyes turn into molten lava as they sear me with lust. “Ladies first always,” he says, right before lowering his hand and fitting two fingers inside of me. “Already wet for me. You’re making this too easy, Haze.”
“I’ll remember that for next time.”
He strokes me leisurely, building me up slowly, but enough that if he stops, I wouldn’t know what to do with the ache he’d leave behind.
“Do you realize how amazingly gorgeous you are?” He brings his mouth to my stomach, where he presses a few light kisses. “You don’t even know how much you affect me. How much I’ve wanted to kiss you. I’ve wanted to strip you down and worship every last inch of you.”
My thoughts tumble aimlessly out of my head as his mouth lowers farther and his other hand spreads me.
“You’ve been driving me crazy. But what’s been driving me the craziest is that I had a chance at feeling your soft lips. I had the opportunity to taste you, and like the fool I am, I chickened out.” He flicks my clit a few times. “Fucking stupid man.” His fingers curve up and his tongue rapidly fires between my legs, shocking me as my orgasm bursts out of nowhere.
“Oh my God,” I moan, pressing my hand into his hair and riding his tongue, my hips rocking with him, seeking out every last bit of pleasure.
My nerves feel like they’ve been set on fire as I fall from bliss, floating gracefully, bringing me back to reality.
“So sexy,” he says, kissing his way back up my body until he reaches my lips. He presses a chaste kiss there and then stands, his erection pressing desperately against his pants.
Smiling, I pull him down on the mattress and lower his pants, freeing his erection.
“Hazel, you don’t have to.”
“Yeah, but I really, really want to.”
* * *
“Thank you for letting me borrow one of your shirts,” I say, loving how his extra-large shirt drapes like a blanket over my shoulders. “That nightgown was constraining.”
“I liked it.” Crew is propped against the headboard, shirtless and wearing a pair of boxer briefs, looking all kinds of hot with his rumpled hair that I’ve combed my fingers through multiple times.
Food is on its way, we’re both satisfied—for now—and we have presents to open. I don’t think I could imagine a better Christmas at this point.
I walk to the bed and he quickly pulls me across his lap, making me laugh as his lips find my neck again.
“Crew, you can’t be serious.”
“What?” He chuckles against my skin. “Have you seen you? You can’t blame me.”
“You can’t be that turned on all the time.”
“You wearing my football shirt? Yeah, I’m turned on.”
I move out of his arms and crawl across the bed, only for him to catch me and spin me around so he’s hovering above me.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“Trying to make sure your dick doesn’t fall off. That would be a detriment to both of us.”
His eyebrows raise. “Hey, you saying you like my dick?”
I smile. “I really like
your dick.”
Once again, his eyes darken, and he spreads my legs with his knees, but this time I stop him.
“Food is on its way—”
“You and I both know I can make you come in seconds.”
“Take a break, big guy. We still have plenty of time for me to ride your yule log.”
Chuckling, he kisses me and capitulates. “Fine. But if I pass out from being banned from your pussy, it’s your fault.”
I roll my eyes as he helps me sit up. “You’re not banned.”
Knock. Knock.
I point to the door. “See? I told you food was on the way.”
“If you hadn’t been talking, I could have made you come.”
I pat his cheek and say, “You’re good, Smith, but you’re not that good.”
As I stand from the bed, he gives me a playful whack on the ass and then falls back on the mattress, hands behind his head.
Food, Hazel. Get the food.
After some pleasantries and Merry Christmases, I tip the hotel attendant very well and take the food to set it next to Crew, who’s smiling like a fool.
“What?” I ask him.
“Just really like you in my shirt,” he says, pulling on the hem.
I feel my cheeks blush and I fall onto his lap, looping my arm around his shoulder. His hand travels up my thigh to my hipbone . . . and he notices I’m not wearing any underwear.
“Hazel . . .”
“What?” I smile mischievously.
“You really think this is going to keep me away?”
“Are you really that big of a horndog?”
“When it comes to you, yeah, I am.” He drags his hand up my body to my breast, where his thumb rubs over my nipple, and it takes everything in me not to sigh.
“Breakfast, presents, sex.”
He lets out a loud groan while his forehead meets my shoulder. “That’s too many things.”
“You also promised me we’d watch A Christmas Story.”
“I did, didn’t I?” He thinks about it. “You know, I’m not opposed to having sex while Ralphie shoots his eye out. Might be nice background music.”
“You need help.” I hop off his lap and go to the other side of the bed, making the food a divider between us—giving me enough space from his grabby hands.
Honestly, I know I could go again with him. After I was done sucking him off, I was ready for more, but I also know that I need a break, even if my libido thinks otherwise. A part of me wants to know if this is more than just sex for him. I want to ask him a million questions that pertain to what happens after we leave Germany, but that would ruin the mood, and I can’t let my mind wander in that direction.
“Are these crepes?” Crew asks, picking up a napkin and silverware.
“They are, and this is mushroom spaetzle. Some egg and mushroom yumminess.”
“So, what you’re telling me is that we’re going halfsies on these dishes.”
I chuckle and nod. “Yeah, that was the plan. But the coffee is for me, the tea is for you.”
“I don’t need coffee to wake me up, just your tits.” He wiggles his eyebrows and I roll my eyes.
“You’re ridiculous.”
Dividing up the plates, he responds, “You’re ridiculously hot.”
“Crew, it’s breakfast, presents, sex—that order won’t change.”
His lips flatten but he continues to divide up the plates. “Well, you’re still ridiculously hot, and I love that I can finally say that out loud and do something about it.” He glances up at me and winks.
Yup, I’m in trouble.
* * *
“That mushroom spattle is the best thing I’ve ever eaten,” Crew says, licking his fork, and if he wasn’t sincerely enjoying the dish, I would swear he’s licking his fork on purpose, to tempt me. Note, it’s working. But I hold strong.
“It’s called mushroom spaetzle.”
“Whatever it’s called, that shit was good.” He sets his fork down and then leans back on his hands. “I still think you should have let me eat the crepe off your naked body. You know, since you didn’t get me a Christmas present, that could have been your opportunity.”
“Oh, but I did get you a Christmas present.”
“Really? When?”
“When you weren’t looking.”
“You mean when I was freezing my ass off trying to buy more coffee yesterday?”
I smile knowingly. “Maybe.”
“Way to take advantage of the situation. But seriously, Haze, you didn’t have to get me anything.”
“I know, but I wanted to.” Motioning to the tray, I ask, “Are you done with this? I can get it out of our way.”
“I can take care of it.” He stands from the bed and takes the tray to the hallway, where he sets it down and then shuts the door behind him. He rubs his hands together. “Present time.”
“Should we open up Pops’s presents first or the things we got for each other?”
“Pops’s first.” He grabs them off the dresser and sits on the bed next to me. They’re the same shape and size, and I have a general idea of what they might be.
Together we open the wrapping paper and reveal picture frames. My eyes immediately well when I see the picture inside. It’s me, Pops, and Crew sitting under our favorite oak tree, drinking lemonade and enjoying cookies. I rub my hand over the picture, remembering the years of great times we had under that tree, the crazy and terrible granddad jokes, and also the deeper, serious conversations we had, especially as we got older.
I look at Crew, and he’s holding the same picture. He glances at me and smiles softly before reaching out and pulling me close with a kiss to the top of my head. “One of my favorite places in the whole world is under that tree.”
“Mine, too,” I say, quietly. “I just can’t get over how much thought Pops put into this for us, Crew. He knew us both so well, and I now wonder if he also knew how much we valued him?”
“I think he did, Haze. After all, doesn’t that show in his attention to detail and planning? He knew we’d appreciate him and value this time because it’s from him.”
I nod. He’s right. Bernie McMann was an exceptional man. Caring and thoughtful beyond his time.
“There’s a letter to open. Shall we read it?”
I nod and Crew opens the letter. It’s a short one. “‘Merry Christmas, kiddos. This is one of my favorite pictures of all time and it means the world to me to be able to share it with you. All those times we spent under that tree. They hold a special place in my heart and I’ll never forget them. I hope you never forget either. Enjoy today, and tomorrow, you’ll be moving on to the last leg. Love you both. Pops.’”
Crew folds up the letter and quietly sets it down while staring at the picture frame. “Remember the time we decided to have a lemonade stand under the tree?”
“And Pops was trying to set up for all the apple pickers. He was dying of thirst and bought a cup from us.”
“A cup full of lemonade mixture and lemon juice and squeezed lemon, because Uncle Paul said no one likes lemonade that just tastes like water.”
I laugh. “I still have the image of Pops with his cheeks sucked in and his eyes ready to flutter out of his head from how sour it was.”
Crew joins me in a full-on belly laugh. “And he drank the whole thing. Now that’s a good grandpa.”
“And then he offered his constructive criticism and told you to never listen to your uncle Paul again.”
“Brilliant advice that I still hold to this day.” Crew sets his frame down and asks, “Did he ever give you advice that you took to heart?”
“Tons.”
“Anything in particular?” Crew asks.
I think back to this past summer when he was sick, how he was training me for I don’t know what, but he spent the summer making sure I knew everything.
“He told me to trust my gut because I knew more than I thought I did.”
“And have you trusted your gut?”
“Well, I’m here, aren’t I?” I ask.
Crew rests his hand on my thigh. “You are, and I’m really fucking glad that you are.” He leans in and I reach up, placing my hand on the back of his neck as he kisses me.
It’s not the kind of kiss that leads to more, nor is it a friendly kiss. It’s a kiss that offers comfort and support. A kiss that makes you think you have so much more time with the person kissing you, rather than a few days. A kiss that speaks of friendship, love, and knowledge, and one I’m so thankful to be part of.
His hand grips my cheek, and he parts my mouth with his tongue and I let him explore, getting lost in the feel of him, in the feel of us, and just as I’m ready for him to lean me back against the mattress, he pulls away.
“Presents.”
I blink a few times, snapping my attention back to reality. “Right, presents.”
He chuckles. “And here I thought you were the one doing all the reminding.”
“I can only be strong for so long. You wore me down.”
He goes to his backpack and pulls out a present wrapped in protective paper. “This, Hazel Allen, is for you.” He holds out it to me and says, “Merry Christmas.”
Butterflies fly around in my stomach. In all the years I’ve known Crew, he’s never gotten me a gift. Not for Christmas, not for my birthday, and I’ve done the same. We didn’t have to get each other anything. All we needed was letters. Lots and lots of letters.
So, right now, it almost feels odd receiving a gift from him, but I push that feeling away quickly as happiness envelops me.
Carefully, I unwrap the long butcher paper until I reveal a miniature carved figurine, no bigger than my hand. It takes me a second to realize what it is, but once I do, tears hit me and I’m a blubbering mess.
Crew somehow in the midst of the mass Christmas market found me a carved farmer with angel wings.
“It’s so you have a little piece of Pops with you. When I saw it, I thought it was meant to be, especially because when I was waiting for you, someone bumped into me rather hard, sending me into a woodcarving booth. I was about to yell at the person for being so goddamn rude, but that’s when I spotted this guy. I knew I had to get it for you. And I know you enjoy carpentry and woodwork, so I knew you’d appreciate the craftsmanship.”
The Romantic Pact Page 22
