Only You

by Marie Landry

  His hands freeze, and I nearly howl in frustration. “I didn’t…I don’t—”

  Somehow my lust-muddled brain deciphers his meaning. I motion toward my bedside table. “In there.”

  He practically flings open the drawer. Oh shit. I have a sudden vision of throwing my vibrator in that drawer the other night instead of tucking it into the second drawer like I usually do. The grin on Hugh’s face gives me my answer. He lifts the small pink device from the drawer and holds it up.

  “Did I mention I’ve been single for a long time?”

  His smile grows. “No judgment from me. I imagine I’ll spend many a cold, lonely winter night back home imagining you using this. As long as you’re picturing me.”

  Considering that’s what I’ve been doing for the past several weeks, it’s safe to say I’ll continue doing just that once Hugh is gone. For now I have the real thing, and my need has reached peak levels. “Condoms,” I say. “Now. Hurry.”

  His eyebrows arch, lips pressing together to hide a smile. The vibrator goes back in the drawer and he takes a condom from the brand new box. Instead of replacing the box like I expect him to, he sets it on top of the nightstand.

  “I like how you think,” I tell him. He rewards me with a crooked grin. I rise up on my knees and crawl to the edge of the bed, stopping in front of him. He meets me with feather-light kisses to my lips. My fingers hook in the elastic band of his underwear, and he lets me pull them down. His cock springs free, and I have to swallow a gleeful titter at the sight of it. This is going to be so much better than any vibrator.

  He rips open the foil square and I take it from him with slightly shaking fingers. My other hand grips him, stroking until he closes his eyes and lets out a ragged groan. I release him and roll the condom down his length, then drop back to my position against the pillows.

  Hugh crawls onto the bed and hovers over me. I arch up in invitation for him to remove my panties, which he does in one fluid movement. He positions himself between my legs, supporting his weight on his forearms as he brings his mouth back to mine. He shifts, freeing one of his hands so he can caress my breasts. I arch up again as his hand finally travels lower, moaning against his lips when he reaches my clit.

  Strong fingers circle the sensitive bundle of nerves, slowly increasing in speed and pressure until I’m writhing. An orgasm builds with lightning speed, but I want to prolong this—this pleasure, this night, this time with Hugh. It takes all my willpower to grip his wrist and push his hand away. “I’m ready,” I gasp. “I want you inside me.”

  There’s a moment’s hesitation as Hugh meets my eyes. His gaze is so intense it makes my breath catch. He shifts again, positioning himself directly over me. I swallow hard, feeling suddenly swamped with a sea of emotions I can’t name. I don’t allow myself to contemplate the swell of feelings. Instead, I grip Hugh’s biceps and lift my hips. He slides inside me slowly, pausing every few seconds to give me time to adjust, waiting for my cues before he continues.

  When our bodies meet, we release twin sighs, and then laugh breathlessly as our lips meet and our bodies begin to move. Hugh keeps meeting my eyes, a silent check-in that makes the swelling emotion return. He sprinkles light kisses over my face and neck.

  Pressure builds in my core, and I try to ride the waves of pleasure instead of giving in. Hugh does this thing with his hips that nearly makes me come. Still, I hold on, gripping his shoulders so tightly I leave little half-moons from my nails. I nip at his neck and he growls, driving into me harder. I already know this is going to be the most mind-blowing orgasm I’ve ever had. The man has moves unlike anything I’ve ever experienced, and his attentiveness would make me swoon if I wasn’t so close to the edge.

  God, I love him.

  The thought flits through my mind before taking root in my brain. My hips jerk, sending us briefly out of sync. Hugh moves to meet my eyes, but I hide my face in his neck, afraid of what he might see there. I can’t really love him, can I? We haven’t known each other that long, and he’s leaving in just over a week.

  But you do, says a quiet, insistent voice in my head. You do love him.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing all thoughts from my mind. I clutch Hugh tighter and he seems to take that as an unspoken signal because he drives me into the bed, his hips pumping so fast now I can’t help but cry out. Stars flash in the corners of my vision as the orgasm builds and builds and finally floods through me. I hold on tight, only half aware of the unintelligible words and sounds spilling from both of us. I ride the waves of pleasure as Hugh gives a final pump and then slows his pace. He buries his face in the crook between my neck and shoulder, his breath hot and damp on my skin.

  Awareness slowly seeps back in. I unclench my fingers from Hugh’s shoulders—he’ll likely be bruised tomorrow—and smooth my hands over his back and hips. He moans into my shoulder, pressing several kisses there before lifting his head. His weight on top of me is about to become too much when he rolls off, sitting up to remove and dispose of the condom. He returns quickly, pulling me to him and nuzzling my neck.

  “Mm, Ivy,” he breathes, his voice thick and sleepy. I turn into the warmth of his body, clinging to him. He smiles and pulls me even closer. I watch as his eyes drift shut, the smile remaining on his lips. Within a few moments, his breathing slows and evens.

  You love him. It’s the same whispered voice from before. I can’t ignore it this time. I don’t even try.

  So much for not complicating things.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  I now understand the saying ‘Running around like a chicken with its head cut off’.

  It’s Sunday the twenty-third of December—Hugh’s last night in Canada. Yesterday was the Village’s final day of operation for the year. I don’t normally work Saturdays, but they needed as many people as possible on hand. Knowing it was my last day, plus a short one with operation shutting down early, I didn’t mind.

  After work, I’d intended to hit the shops to get some last-minute errands done, but Meredith had found me as I was leaving and told me a bunch of people were going out for dinner and drinks. Even though there’s a big party for everyone at the Village tonight, I couldn’t say no to extra time with the people who had come to mean so much to me over the last few weeks.

  Unfortunately, that meant I had to brave the shops today. I say ‘brave’ because apparently half the city had also left things until the last minute. I was pushed, prodded, and almost trampled in every store I went to, including the grocery store.

  All of that took twice as long as expected, which means I’m now dashing around my apartment getting ready for the party. This past week has been a blur of working all day at Quest, followed by my usual nightly elf duty, and mostly-sleepless nights with Hugh. After our first night together, Celia informed us in an oh-so-casual voice that she had bought a pair of heavy-duty earplugs and would be wearing them to bed from now on. I could have kissed her. Instead, I kissed every inch of Hugh that night and the next and the next…

  Celia is lounging on the couch watching me with barely contained amusement as I scurry around the apartment. I’m currently half dressed; I’ve been waiting to put my top on because I’m going to wear the wool sweater Celia gave me, and I don’t want to put it on a moment sooner than necessary. I found a lightweight shirt to go under it, which I’m hoping will be enough separation from my skin to prevent another allergy attack.

  I’m in the bathroom attempting to corral my hair into some sort of updo when there’s a knock on the front door. Letting my hair drop, I sprint into the hallway, waving to Celia to sit back down as she starts to get up.

  “Umm, Ivy?” She gives me an over-exaggerated wave back and points to my chest. I’m still only wearing a bra.

  “It’s just Hugh,” I tell her. She slides back onto the couch and I open the door to a grinning Hugh. His smile grows and his eyebrows arch up near his hairline when he sees my half-undressed state.

  “Well hello,” he says in a low voice. He
swoops forward and gathers me in his arms, showering me with kisses. I let out a squeal as he nips at me, then pulls back to plant a kiss on my lips.

  Celia gives a loud “Ahem” from across the room. “Roommate present. Roommate who spent an hour getting ready and refuses to be late for this party.”

  Hugh kisses me again before releasing me and smiling over my shoulder at Celia. “Duly noted. And you look lovely.”

  I follow his gaze to Celia. In the dozen or so times I’ve passed her in the last hour, I never took in her appearance. She’s wearing a pair of slim-fit black pants and a pretty red sweater that compliments her black hair. I’m not used to seeing Celia wear anything other than dark colors, except for her Grooge costume the last few weeks, which doesn’t count. Even more surprising is the fact she’s wearing eye makeup and a shade of lipstick that matches her sweater. She looks beautiful.

  Her cheeks redden, and I realize Hugh and I are both staring at her.

  “Jeeze, was I that bad before?” She crosses her arms over her chest and averts her eyes. She’s been better lately at reining in the snark, but it still comes out when she’s annoyed or defensive.

  “Of course not.” I cross the room and lean over the back of the couch, putting a hand on her shoulder. “I think part of me still thinks of you as a kid and now I see you’re actually a woman. A beautiful woman.”

  The tense muscles under my hand loosen slightly. She clears her throat and peers at me over her shoulder. “It’s about time you noticed,” she says, her voice soft and snark-free. She offers me a small smile. She’s trying, and I love her for that.

  “I like your lipstick,” I tell her.

  She presses her lips together. “It’s not too much? I feel kind of weird wearing it.”

  “No, it suits you.”

  Her cheeks flush again, this time in pleasure. “Bridget was wearing this shade the other day and I asked her about it. She said it was called Mistletoe Kiss and she thought it would look great on me. I wasn’t planning on actually trying it, but I saw it in the store and figured why not?”

  I suppress a smile. Last year, Bridget had complimented a stranger wearing that exact shade of lipstick. When Bridget said she could never pull off such a bold color herself, the woman had given Bridget her new tube of lipstick, assuring her she could rock it if she had the confidence. It’s been her favorite shade ever since. I can’t believe that was a whole year ago. So much has happened since then.

  “You look all dreamy and far away,” Celia says, breaking into my thoughts. I focus on her just as her eyes dart to Hugh and then back to me. She likely assumes I’m thinking about the fact he’s leaving tomorrow. I’ve been trying not to think about it. “Go finish getting ready,” she says. “Your nips are going to pop out of that bra any second and that’s an image I’ll never be able to unsee.”

  “Okay, okay. I’ll be right back.”

  I’m halfway to my room when I hear Celia quietly say, “I don’t know how to thank you.”

  Skidding to a halt, I stay where I am, straining my ears to hear Hugh’s reply.

  “Not necessary. I’ve believed in you from the moment you came barreling into my office last month. I know you’ll do great things.”

  “Still. You have no idea what this means to me. Ivy is the only person who’s been willing to take a chance on me. To have you in my corner now too…” Her voice trails off. It almost sounds like she’s fighting tears. “I won’t let you down.”

  My curiosity gets the best of me. I whirl around and go back down the hall. Hugh is standing at the end of the couch and Celia is where she was when I left a minute ago. Hugh sees me first; his eyes flick to Celia, who glances over her shoulder.

  “Call me a nosy eavesdropper, but what’s going on?”

  Hugh holds Celia’s gaze for several long beats. Finally, she stands up and faces me. Her expression is so serious it makes my heart do a little tap dance of anticipation.

  “I was going to tell you over Christmas,” she says. “Things have been so hectic and, well…” She trails off and glances at Hugh, who nods encouragingly. “I decided to apply for school, even though I knew it would be a long shot to get in for winter semester. I figured if I had to I’d wait until September, except that’d mean I’d have to find another job. We all know how well that’s gone in the past.”

  She perches on the edge of the couch, still facing me. “Anyway, I talked to Hugh about it and he pulled a few strings. Turns out he knows a lot of people in Bellevue, including someone in admissions at Loyola.” Her earnest expression cracks and a bright smile overtakes her face. “I’ll be starting school the second week of January, majoring in Advertising and Marketing Communications.”

  My mouth drops open and a squeak of surprise escapes. My eyes dart from Celia to Hugh, then back to Celia. “That’s incredible! Congratulations!” I launch myself over the back of the couch and hug her from behind. She laughs, clutching at my arms and pressing her cheek against mine.

  “Thanks. It’s been completely nuts getting it all sorted, but I have Hugh to thank for most of it. He’s even giving me a loan, and my parents are helping me with the rest.”

  Now my head is spinning. I release my tight grip on Celia and straighten, leaning against the couch for support. Hugh is giving her a loan? And wait… “Your parents? You talked to them?”

  “You can thank Hugh for that too.” Her voice is a mixture of giddiness and relief. “He encouraged me to get in touch with them and gave me time off this week to go meet with them. They were so thrilled when they heard about everything I’ve accomplished the last couple months and my goals for the future. They said if I stay on this path, they’ll help pay for school and my living expenses.”

  I’m not sure what my expression is, but Celia’s face drops. “I was going to tell you, I swear, I just—”

  “No, stop.” I wave a hand to cut her off. “I’m not upset, I’m just surprised and trying to process everything. This is huge.”

  “It is,” she agrees, still looking uncertain. “I wanted to make sure everything was set before I told you. I didn’t want you to be disappointed if things didn’t work out.”

  “Celia. I would have been proud of you just for trying.” I dip back down to hug her again. “You’re going to do great, and I’ll help you any way I can.” She closes her eyes and squeezes me tight. I peer up at Hugh, who’s watching us with the sweetest smile. I mouth ‘thank you’ to him, and he bobs his head.

  Before I can start crying, I release Celia. “Now I’m really going to go get ready.” I hurry to my room and close the door. Fiddlesticks is lounging in the middle of my bed. I gather her in my arms, burying my face in her fur and smiling when she starts to purr.

  I figure it’s a given I’ll cry at least once before the night is out. I’m already trying hard not to cry now from the cocktail of emotions swirling around inside me. Just like I’ve been trying not to think about Hugh leaving, I’ve also tried not to acknowledge the revelation I had the night we first slept together. I’ve told myself it’s not possible to love Hugh this soon, especially with him leaving. I can’t ignore the swelling in my chest now, though. That light, airy, sweeter-than-honey feeling I’ve only ever experienced once before, many years ago. I love Hugh.

  “Oh, Fiddlesticks. Who knew things could change so much in such a short amount of time?”

  The cat gives me a slow blink. Kathleen told me one day last week that a slow blink from a cat supposedly means they love you. I’ll take it. “I love you too, Fiddle-dee-dee.” I kiss the top of her head and set her back on the bed.

  From my closet, I pull a thin long-sleeved shirt, along with the infamous wool sweater. I yank them on quickly, give Fiddlesticks a goodbye snuggle, and return to the living room. Celia is still where she’s been for the last hour, and Hugh is now sitting on the arm of the couch. He glances up as I approach. The automatic smile that graces his face when he sees me slips a bit when he realizes what I’m wearing.

  “Ivy.”
His low voice holds a hint of disbelief.

  Celia looks at me, then turns her curious gaze to Hugh. It gives me a chance to give him my best ‘shut up’ face. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing!” I say, my voice too bright. “Are we ready to go party?” Despite the shirt underneath the sweater, my face is already starting to itch. I blink hard, refusing to acknowledge the water building in my eyes. Fiddlesticks appears by my feet, winding around my legs and purring. As I bend to pet her, a sneeze rips out of me, startling us both. Fiddlesticks hops away from me, scowling—if cats can scowl—and lets out an offended squawk-like meow. I sneeze again and she bolts from the room.

  Celia laughs. “What is going on with you? Are you getting the world’s most sudden cold? You were fine a minute ago.”

  “I…well…yeah. Maybe? It’s fine, though. Just don’t get too close.”

  Hugh clears his throat pointedly. “Ivy Sima.”

  Ugh, he full-named me. Celia’s expression has slid into confusion as her gaze shifts back and forth between Hugh and me.

  “Fine!” I wail, scrambling to free myself from the sweater. I clutch it in front of me. “I’m allergic to this sweater. I’d never worn wool before, so I didn’t know. I’m so sorry, Ce. I love it and it was such a thoughtful gesture for so many reasons.”

  My outburst is met with wide eyes from Celia. Her face remains otherwise blank for a moment, and then she bursts out laughing. I’ve never heard her laugh like this, hard and uninhibited. She even snorts a little. Fiddlesticks runs back into the room to see what’s going on. Her gaze darts around the room and then she hightails it back down the hall. Celia doubles over, laughing harder. Even Hugh has started to chuckle.

  “Only I could get you a sweater you’re allergic to,” Celia gasps between giggles. She wipes at her eyes and shakes her head.