by Sarah Spade
She’s naked. I’m not.
That’s gotta change.
A kick and there goes one dress shoe. I kick off the other. Pausing only to take the pack of condoms we bought out of my last pocket, I unzip my slacks and yank them down. Boxers are next.
All that’s left is to wrap up.
Now where did I drop that box?
There.
I grab the box, tearing it open. The small store didn’t have too much of a selection and the four-pack was the biggest one they had. I tear one off the strip, putting the others nearby on her nightstand so that I can reach them, and smile at her.
“You ready for your Christmas present, Mary?”
I’m not one for talking dirty. I’ve always been the sort of man who let his actions speak louder than words. But considering it’s Christmas Eve and the two of us have found each other on this night of all others, it’s fitting.
I… I thought she would agree. Instead, as I’m smiling like a goofy fucking moron, Mary’s waiting expression seems to darken and fade. For the first time since we met, she looks away from me.
“Nick, um, there’s something I have to tell you.”
I freeze. “Is it no? Have you changed your mind?”
Her head jerks back. “What? No! I want this, I really do. It’s just—”
“Then later, baby. You can tell me everything you want later.”
“But it’s about my—”
I silence her with a kiss, my hands working frantically on the foil packet. I don’t want to give her another minute to think about why we might be rushing this.
To my relief, by the time I have the condom open, Allison is reaching up to meet my kiss rather than pulling away to finish some conversation that we can have later.
Way, way later.
I break away from her with a wistful moan. She’s panting, her naked tits rising and falling as she breathes heavily. Her cheeks are pink, her eyes dazed, and she holds out her hand, fingertips grazing along the head of my aching cock.
Her touch is light, a mere brush, but it sends a jolt throughout my body. Pre-cum beads on the tip and I know I have to hurry if I don’t want to embarass myself like a kid getting a peek at his dad’s Playboy.
“Whatever you want to tell me, I’ll be all ears later. But if I don’t get inside of you in the next minute, I’m going to explode.”
Mary looks shocked at my candor. Maybe it’s too much, too fast, but we’ve only known each other for about three hours and we’re already minutes away from fucking. When it’s right, it’s right, and after years of honing my business sense, I know a good deal when I see it. I won’t be sorry for that.
Then she lets out a husky laugh and resettles herself against her pillows. “Okay, wow. That’s um, that’s kinda really hot.”
I chuckle as, with anxious fingers, I hurriedly roll the condom on my length. “Trust me, baby, you haven’t seen anything yet.”
Once I’m ready, I give her a searching look. She’s already spread out like a naked goddess on her bed, waiting for me. Again, our eyes lock, and she gives me an earnest little nod. She looks so damn inviting, with just a touch of innocence clinging to her, even as she bares everything to me.
And, God damn it, she still has that piece of tinsel twisted up among her long blonde hair.
“Merry Christmas, Mary,” I murmur as I climb into her bed, angling my hips between hers.
Mary licks her lips, beautiful green gaze zeroing in on my cock. It’s bobbing its way hungrily toward her, my erection so hard that it feels like it could snap right off.
With a soft breath, she leans back against her pillows, propping herself up on her elbows as she lets her legs fall open for me.
Just as I press the tip to her opening, she lets out a soft gasp. “Merry Christmas, Nick.”
When my phone starts ringing at the crack of dawn, I literally have to crawl out of her bed. Even that saps the last of the strength I have.
I… I’ve never cum so much before. Or recovered so quickly.
It’s like my sex drive knew that there was a time limit, that I would have to leave her before I got enough of her, and that the only solution was to take her as many times as she let me.
Because Mary? I don’t know. There’s something about her. In less than twelve hours, I’ve decided that I don’t think I can ever get enough.
She doesn’t snort, but she makes this soft snuffling sound as I drag my body across the tiny bed and flop onto the floor. With her blonde hair covering half of her face, the sheet concealing more than I’d like it to, Mary looks so peaceful. I can’t wake her up. Not after the way I tired her out.
It takes me a second to find my pants; by the time I do, the phone has stopped ringing. My boxers are right next to them and, as I stab my feet through them, I realize that I never got around to taking my socks off last night. I shrug, since that means I don’t have to hunt them down too, before pulling my pants on and slipping on my shoes.
As much as it chafes, I’ve got to get dressed. Those four condoms I bought last night? All gone. It would be way too tempting to have a little morning sex if we both were naked.
With a quick glance behind me to make sure that Mary is still sleeping, I move out into her condo in search of my shirt. As I’m just picking it up off the floor, my phone begins to ring.
It’s Tristan.
And since he’s calling again so soon—and the three hour time difference means it’s just after three a.m. in California—I don’t think he’s wishing me Merry Christmas.
I make my voice gruff and low so I don’t bother Mary in the other room. “Hello?”
“For fuck’s sake, buddy. You okay? You sound awful.”
“I’m fine. What’s going on? Shouldn’t you be sleeping? It’s Christmas Eve, Trist.”
“Actually, it’s Christmas now. Merry Christmas and all that shit. Now, listen—”
And I do, because Tristan launches into this frantic explanation about this million-dollar account we have and how all the loose ends were supposed to be tied up before I flew out to Salem.
Turns out there was a fuck-up somewhere down the line—someone is losing their Christmas bonus, that’s for damn sure—and, at the end of the day, the buck stops at me and Tristan.
One problem, though. I’m in Massachusetts.
The business meeting needs to be face to face.
Shit.
“Hello? Max? You still there?”
“Yeah. I’m here. I’m just… thinking.”
“Well, do your thinking on the plane. I already checked. A lot of the flights that grounded last night have been cleared for take-off. It’s Christmas Day so the airports won’t be too crowded. You should be able to snag a flight this morning. We can take care of this problem and you can even make an appearance at your folks’ this year.”
Good ol’ Trist. He knows exactly how to hit a guy where it hurts. I don’t doubt that everything he’s said is the truth. If the airport is open, I’d be back in Palo Alto by mid-day. Plenty of time to spend Christmas with my mom, my dad, my sister, and my best friend.
But what if I also want to spend the holiday with someone else?
I can’t remember the last time I had a serious girlfriend. There were random flings here or there, maybe a couple a year, which makes tonight so surprising. The fact that I was so desperate to have her, and just how much I want to take her again.
Ever since I graduated college and started working toward building my business with my partner, Tristan, work has always come first. Always. I never let anything get in my way. It might seem ruthless, it might seem cold, but I refused to let anything distract me.
Mary might be the biggest distraction I’ve ever had.
I give my head a clearing shake. Distraction might be putting it mildly. How can I even think about blowing Tristan off?
“Okay. Yeah. You’re right. Look, I’m heading out to the airport now,” I tell him. “I’ll text you my flight info as soon as I have it.”
>
And if I can’t get one, then it wasn’t because I didn’t try.
We finish the rest of our conversation quickly, Tristan because he’s obviously busy, and me because I don’t want to wake Mary up. It’s bad enough that I have to leave. I might not be able to do it if I have to give her my excuses while peering into her lovely green eyes.
I’ll make it up to her. She gave me the best night of my life last night. I’m definitely going to make it up to her.
In my phone, I have the number she gave me after our first dance, when I steered her back to the bar and bought her another virgin margarita.
I’ll call her, I promise myself as I throw on my shirt and quickly do up the buttons. She might not be too happy to hear that I had to leave so suddenly, but I’ll do whatever I have to to make it up to her.
Tristan might need me back in California right now. Okay. My sister’s moving to Salem in a couple of weeks—her impending move is the reason why I’m here in town, checking it out for Dani—and I’ll have to come back to help her settle in.
It’s what any good big brother would do. And if it means I can spend more time with Mary?
Shit, I’m already looking forward to seeing her again and I haven’t even left yet.
I have to, though. If it’s something that Tristan needs me to handle, I have to go.
Even if I’d really, really rather stay.
Allison
He’s… he’s gone.
I wake up on Christmas, as light-hearted and giddy as a schoolgirl. For the first time in my thirty-one years, it has nothing to do with the promise of presents under the tree I put up every holiday.
And the butterflies flapping wildly in my stomach? They’ve got nothing to do with Santa Claus’s visit, but rather the other man I welcomed into my home last night.
Nick—
Nick something.
Hmm. I don’t know if I got a last name.
I… I should probably ask him what it is.
I roll over, stretching my hand out to the spot he claimed last night. After the last time we made love together, I learned that Nick is a bed hog. I remember how he pulled me close, tucking me under him until his underarm hair tickled my bare shoulder, before sprawling out across the length of my full-size bed.
My hand lands flat against the sheet. The cool sheet.
My eyes fly open as my fingers grope at the empty spot. Nick might’ve been here all night, but he’s not here now. And the cool temperature of my sheet? It tells me that he’s been missing for a while.
Clambering out of my bed, I don’t bother with gathering the clothes I was wearing last night. Somehow they got tossed everywhere—are those my panties hanging off of my desk lamp?—and it’s just that much easier to rifle through my dresser and yank on an oversized t-shirt before I head out into the hall.
I see my leggings tangled up in a mess on the floor in front of my door. My sweater isn’t too far.
There’s no sign of Nick’s shirt out here.
Um, there’s no sign of Nick out here.
My heart in my throat, my stomach sinking down somewhere near my ankles, I roam through all of the rooms of my condo. Kitchen, bathroom, guest room. Nope.
He’s… he’s really gone.
I return to the living room, glancing around wildly as if he’ll suddenly pop up from behind the couch.
I’ve never had a one night stand before.
The connection we had, the way we hit it off… the way he looked at me last night… I thought this was the beginning of a fairy tale. I never once imagined that he just wanted a little action on Christmas Eve.
And I was the only loser who was alone in that bar.
Easy target. I basically threw myself at him.
On Christmas Eve.
What was I thinking?
I wasn’t. I know that. My parents were here for the last two weeks and, trust me, Marge and Barry Shaw could lead anyone to lose all common sense at the end of a two week visit. I love my parents to death—Lord knows I do—but after the light-hearted teasing, the criticisms, the endless questioning of why I’ve always put my career before my lovelife… I needed a drink.
And I don’t even drink at all.
So virgin margaritas at the Grand Crown were in order, as well as a quiet Christmas Eve in a place where, surrounded by others, I could be alone without being lonely.
Even more, I could be whoever the heck I wanted to be.
It’s why I lied and told him my name was Mary instead of Allison. For one night, I didn’t want to be boring, plain Allison Shaw. I could be Mary, Mary frickin’ Christmas, and if Mary wanted to tumble into bed with a handsome stranger on Christmas Eve, she darn well would.
It all started when he walked into the Grand Crown. I caught a glimpse of him as he sauntered into the bar, taking a seat not too far from where I sat, watching Rudolph. I wondered what he was doing there, all alone, definitely a stranger. I might not be a regular at the taproom, but I’ve lived in Salem my whole life and have gone to the Grand Crown enough to know that he was a stranger.
I would’ve remembered seeing him before. I know I would.
I could tell that he was watching me. I’ve never been so flattered before in my life.
And Mary, turns out, is bold. Very bold. She asked him to dance.
Later, she asked him to take her to bed.
She never asked him to stay.
Maybe… maybe he had to go. He looked so important, sitting at the bar in an expensive suit and some fancy tie. Okay. So the shirt jacket was resting on the stool next to him, his tie undone in a way that I thought almost irresistible last night. But he was obviously a businessman. He said as much when I asked later why I never noticed him in the bar before.
Realization hits me like a brick.
I knew Nick wasn’t from Salem. He was only visiting for work. The snowstorm trapped him here. Jeez, Allison, he even wanted to take you back to his hotel!
So amazed that a man like him—a man who looked like that—would even spare me a second glance, I heard what he said, understood that it couldn’t last, and still brought him back home with me.
Of course he couldn’t stay.
Well, then, maybe he shouldn’t have grunted “you’re mine” when he came inside me.
Thank God he used a condom. I sure as heck didn’t know anything about one night stands and maybe Nick was being honest when he said he was unattached because he didn’t carry any condoms in his wallet. Then again, he was the one who mentioned them as I brought him to my condo—stupid, stupid Allison!—and suggested we stop at the only convenience store open on Christmas Eve.
He bought a four-pack. I thought he was planning for the future. Nope. We used every single one last night.
Maybe… maybe he went out to buy more.
Without telling me.
Or leaving a note.
Or asking for a ride.
Darn it. He’s not coming back, is he?
Once I realize that he’s gone, not a single trace left behind except for my rumpled sheets, the tenderness between my legs, and the lingering scent of his cologne in my room, I’m torn between being angry, hurt, or feeling just so stupid.
Slumping down next to my twinkling Christmas tree, sitting next to a pile of unopened presents from my parents, I burst into tears.
And they’re not the happy kind.
Part II
This Christmas
Chapter 3
Max
I run my sister’s words through my head again. There’s no way I heard what I think I heard.
“Whoa. Hang on there, Dani. What did you just say?”
She’s quiet for a second. That alone is off. Danielle never shuts up.
When she speaks again, her voice is unnaturally cheery. “What part? Where I said you don’t have to worry about coming out for Christmas?”
“After that.”
“Oh. You mean when I said I got a cat? He’s black and sweet and I named him Salem after that o
ld Sabrina show.”
That’s not the only thing she acquired without me knowing. “Before that.”
She gulps audibly. “Then I guess you’re talking about how I plan on having a quiet Christmas at home with my new fiancé.”
Bingo.
I slap the lid of my laptop closed. This is what I get for trying to finish up Q3 paperwork while talking on the phone. She almost managed to slip that right past me.
Almost.
My fingers slide up to pinch the bridge of my nose. “Danielle Elizabeth Dennis,” I say, using my best stern older brother voice, “I sincerely hope that this is some kind of Christmas joke. Because I know—I know that you didn’t just tell me that you’re engaged to some man that your family not only has never met, but doesn’t even know exists.”
Okay. So maybe that wasn’t the best tone to take with my contrary little sister. Dani huffs, then lets me have it.
“Oh, really? How’s the view from up there on your high horse, Max? Because you might not have known about Zack, but I told mom and dad about him ages ago.”
I only have a split second to make a mental note to check that out with my parents before she’s snapping at me again.
“If you got your nose out of your ledger books long enough, Scrooge, then you’d know that I’m not a little girl anymore. I’m twenty-nine, damn it, and if Zack makes me happy, then that should make you happy. And I am happy. He’s happy, we’re happy, and I love him and, you know what? I love my damn cat, too!
Leaning back in my chair, I wait until she’s done before saying, “Are you finished?”
“Depends. You going to give me a hard time about spending Christmas with Zack and my kitty?”
I’m not about to exactly admit that everything she said in her mini-rant had a point. Instead, I tell her, “Of course not.”
“Thank you.”
“Especially since I’m still coming out to see you for Christmas.”
“What?” Dani’s shriek is so shrill, so high, I have to pull my cell away from my ear and wince. When I put it back, she’s already rattling off more reasons why I should stay home instead.
