by J. M. Maurer
Eli winks and pulls me into his arms. “I have a solution.” He sets music to play on his phone, then lifts the bows from the coffee table and hands over the bow he helped me make. “I’ll tell you about it after we finish decorating and turn on the tree. You put your bow on first.”
I thread my fingers with his and pull him over to the tree, my insides warming as I listen to “This Gift” by 98 Degrees.
Glancing at him, I grin. “This solution…” I twist to set my bow on a steady branch near the middle of the tree. “What if it doesn’t work for me like breadsticks don’t do it for you?”
“Snow angel,” he sets the bow next to mine and turns to meet my gaze, “you’re gonna more than love my solution. I promise.”
I have a hunch what his solution is. I’ll love it, like I do the new nickname. I lift the ornament into view. “How about we put this on together?”
A smile curls over his lips as he pinches his side of the ribbon. “Where would you like it?”
“How about here?” I ask, guiding him to a branch beneath the bows. Together, we hang our first Christmas ornament in place.
Eli wraps a strong hold around me and places a kiss to the top of my head. “I think it’s perfect. Let’s turn on the lights.”
The lights flicker on with the flip of a switch on the wall and cast a warm, romantic glow through the glass ornament, through the room, and even out into the hall. My heart flutters with happiness as Eli positions me so my back is to his front. Warmed from everything about the moment, I smile as he presses his soft lips to the crook of my neck. The gentle touch sends chills up and down my spine. I rock to the slight sway of Eli’s hips, and listen to Mariah Carey singing “All I want for Christmas.”
“Isn’t she beautiful?” I ask, tightening my grip around Eli’s arms, my body bursting with adrenaline, my gaze taking in the simple beauty of our tree.
“Yes, you are,” Eli says, then leaves a trail of kisses from my neck up to my ear. “And now I’d like to tell you the solution to our cheesy bread problem.”
My heart dances, kicking up its rhythm each time Eli grazes my skin with his lips. “And just what is this solution you have to our cheesy bread problem?”
“Well.” He kisses my ear. “I’d like to get a fire going in your fireplace, pull a few blankets in here from off your bed, get you all settled and cozy, and make love to you all night.”
I twist in his arms until we’re face to face. “I do admit I like this solution you’re proposing to our problem. But I’m not sure I’m following. How does it work exactly?”
“I strip you naked, get you down on that floor, crawl in on top of you, and ravish you senseless.”
“No. Not that.” I giggle. “The issue with the cheesy bread. How’s that the solution to our problem?”
“Because once I’m on top of you, I’ll no longer remember cheesy bread even exists.”
His eyes smolder with a blaze of heat that spreads throughout my body, setting my insides completely on fire.
I’m goo in his arms and thankful he still has a strong hold around my waist. Needing to cool down, I lead him into the kitchen. “Then I think it’s time you start making our salads.”
If he doesn’t, I’m sure I’ll let him take me whenever and wherever he wants, including right here in the kitchen. In fact, I’m confident it’ll happen, if not now, then soon.
For now, he promises to be a good boy and has our salads made before I have the lasagna in the oven. He’s also got our placemats set and ready at the bar, candlelight flickering everywhere I look, and along with his phone still piping music into the air, a bottle of red wine open and breathing. On top of that, while I knead dough into a dozen breadsticks and place them on a cookie sheet to rise, he takes it upon himself to pick up the slight mess we made in the living room before he drags my comforter and a couple blankets into the room.
I steal a few glances his way between throwing the lasagna into the oven and covering the breadsticks with plastic wrap. I’m mesmerized by the way he straightens out the corners, moving blankets here and there as if everything has to be just perfect.
When he has it to his liking, a sly grin forms on his lips. He doesn’t see me watching as he turns on the gas to light the fire in the fireplace, or when he pulls a wrapped gift out of his duffel bag and tucks it safely under our tree.
“How are those breadsticks coming along?” he asks as I slide the cookie sheet they’re rising on under the warmth of an under-cabinet light.
“They’ll be amazing.” Just like the night I know Eli has in store for us.
He squeezes in behind me, smoothing out my shirt as he splays his hands across my belly. But it’s the hard tap at my lower back that really catches my attention. “I’m sure I’ll love them.”
He kisses the back of my head, leaving his lips where he’s made contact, and dips one hand into the front of my pants, pulling me back into him. Tingles shoot down my spine from where his lips touch my head and take a direct path to where his fingers tease my skin. I’m wet. I’m thirsty. And I’m hungry for far more than the food we’re making. Is this what it’s going to be like every time we’re together in the kitchen?
“Eli,” I manage to say, my teeth cutting a line in my lower lip. “If you don’t stop what you’re doing, you’re going to have to take me right here in the kitchen.”
“There’s still an hour left on the timer.” He flips me around and lifts me up on the counter. “You got a problem with me loving on you in the kitchen?”
I shake my head as he runs his hands up my thighs and zaps my heart into overdrive as his fingers touch the skin underneath my shirt. “No. I don’t have a problem with the kitchen.”
“Good.” He slides me to the edge of the counter and covers my mouth with his.
In no time, I’ve forgotten about the breadsticks and the lasagna that’s cooking in the oven. My mind settles in on nothing except the way he moves his hard length inside me.
I know after we eat, round two of what we’ve started in the kitchen will begin. In the warm glow of the fire, Eli will bury himself inside me, and once again, pull me into his loving cocoon with both his hands and his body.
Short getaways are amazing, but heartfelt surprises like making special bows, decorating a Christmas tree, and spur-of-the-moment lovemaking are even better than I ever thought possible.
I wake the next morning with half of Eli’s naked body draped across mine. His slow, steady breathing tells me he might stay asleep for a while. My skin soaks in his warmth as orange and yellow flames dance in the fireplace beside us and bright light seeps in through the vertical slats of the partially closed blinds.
Focusing on the weight that’s holding me in place, I hear “Count On Me” by Bruno Mars. It’s my phone, and I know it’s Celia calling. She set the song as her ringtone shortly before I left Oklahoma for Cleveland as a way of telling me that no matter how much time passes or how far apart we are, certain things between us will always be the same, and we will forever be sisters who can count on each other.
The call cuts out before I can scoot my way out from under Eli’s hold. I twist to grab a pillow to replace my body, but the instant I move, Eli opens his sleepy eyes, pins me tighter with his leg, and cups a firm hand over my breast, his brown eyes darkening and homing in on mine.
“Where’s my beautiful snow angel think she’s going?”
“Apparently your beautiful snow angel isn’t going anywhere.” I giggle and attempt to wiggle beneath him, loving the sweet tone in his voice and the morning heat that’s emanating from his eyes. “Why do you call me your snow angel?”
“I worked on my beautiful cumulonimbus for hours, days even,” he says matter-of-factly. “But I could never get it to roll off my tongue the way I wanted it to.”
I lift a brow, amazed at how well Eli is maintaining his straight face and charmed by his use of a weather term. “A storm cloud? You think I’m a thunderstorm?”
“No.” He shakes his head
. “But you are like a storm cloud, one that’s towering to new heights, bold and beautiful. A sight I find extremely difficult to take my eyes off.”
I melt, heat filling my cheeks.
“You came to me in a snow storm,” he adds, lifting up on an elbow, his pupils growing larger as his fingers skim a path along my cheek. “The moment I saw you, I knew you were an angel. I spent the whole night trying to figure out how I was going to make you mine.”
I lift my head and tap my lips to his. “You should know that your beautiful snow angel feels cherished and very blessed. Since cumulonimbus is one of my favorite words, I could practice saying it with you, but I don’t think that’s necessary since I already love being your snow angel.” I kiss him again. “By the way, your snow angel is sorry she woke you.”
“I’m not.” He rubs his nose across mine, letting his Eskimo kiss linger with affection.
“Celia called,” I say after Eli places a chaste kiss to my cheek. “And I think that’s what woke me up. But now that I’m awake, as much as I love having you peer down at me with those bedroom eyes of yours, and captivate me with your knowledge of cloud formations, I need to empty my bladder.”
A laugh bubbles up from Eli’s throat. “You mean you need to pee?”
“Yes. Don’t make me laugh and please let me up.”
Eli rolls back, appearing reluctant to release the hold he has on me with his leg. His hand is slow to catch up to the rest of his body, sliding away from my breast only after planting a quick pinch to the nipple and flashing me a sultry grin that burns a path down to my core. My breast aches from the loss of contact. I didn’t realize he was clasping onto me as hard as he was.
“I’ll hurry and be right back, and then I’ll make us some coffee and breakfast.”
Eli’s warm fingers find my wrist, his gaze soft, charming. “I’ll help you. I don’t think you should ever make breakfast alone.”
Lifting to stand, I smile. “I don’t think so either.”
Once I’m back in the kitchen, I come to a halt, thrust into a lust-filled moment where I can’t seem to take my eyes off Eli. There is just nothing sexier than seeing him standing naked in my kitchen. With nothing on but his new OU hat, he is even more glorious than I could have ever imagined. But if I don’t stop staring at his massive erection, I know exactly where this morning of ours will be heading.
He swivels his hips as if he’s directing my focus onto what he’s got standing at full attention. It’s hardly necessary. My sight is already locked in. My heart thumps hard inside my chest, beating in heated anticipation.
“Umm.” I lick lips that have gone dry. “I kinda assumed you’d get dressed. But honestly, I like your hot bod as it is. Maybe I’ll just sit over here and watch you cook up breakfast. Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s how I want my Christmas morning to begin.”
To my surprise, he glides his left hand down the length of his shaft and gives it a firm squeeze at the base. “Calm down, boy,” he says, looking down. “Our lady asks for breakfast, and we must always please our lady first.”
Heat rushes up my cheeks as Eli flashes me a sultry grin and winks. I’m at a crossroads. Do I get myself a cold drink or continue watching Eli strut his naked body across my kitchen floor? It’s probably too late to decide, because if he glides that hand back up his length one more time, my ovaries are going to burst. We definitely don’t need coffee. We’re both stimulated the way it is.
“Orange juice?” I offer, heading to the fridge. I need the cool air to infiltrate every pore on my skin. Come on, Makayla. Settle down. After all, it’s Christmas.
“Sure. Sounds great,” Eli says, his enthusiastic tone filtering in from his spot by the stove.
I turn back to him after pulling out a bottle of OJ and find myself staring at his round tush.
Baby Jesus. Baby Jesus. Baby Jesus.
For a Southern gal, I’ve hit a new low, but I’ve got to try something. When that doesn’t seem to work, I begin to wonder not only if we’ll make it through Christmas, but if we’ll even get to brunch.
I force myself to think about the eggs Eli’s scrambling and fill two glasses with juice. Putting the carton away, I hear the words “Your momma’s calling back” blasting from my phone. The tune’s a parody of Justin Timberlake’s “Sexyback,” and aware it’s my mom calling, I feel my vagina practically freeze shut.
Thanks, Mom.
Eli’s shoulders bounce with laughter while the muscles in his sexy rear tighten every time he moves. “Make sure you fill your mom in on how well your Christmas morning is going. You know how she worries about you.” He winks.
I brush past him, giving his firm bottom a slap and a squeeze, then head around the counter to pick up my phone. “I’ll make sure to fill her in on just how well you rocked my world last night.” I toss him a wink of my own, then answer, “Hey, Mom. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas, darling. How is your day?”
Great! “Pretty good, Mom. Yours?”
“Well, your father just made us his favorite buttermilk fried chicken waffle wraps. They were as delicious as always, but thank goodness he’s been cutting down on fried foods lately or I’d have to stock up on antacids. I do hope Eli is as good in the kitchen as your father is. He wouldn’t happen to be fixing you something yummy to eat now, would he?” Her voice is spirited, like she somehow has my apartment bugged and is perfectly aware that Eli is over, his naked body whipping up more than a good meal, right here in my kitchen.
I slide onto a seat at the bar, peer around in search of such a device, and then look down at my phone to check the time. It’s nearly one o’clock in the afternoon. My how time flies when you’re having fun. Or when you’re sleeping off a full night of the best sex you’ve ever had, and in the process fail to call your dearest mother first thing on Christmas morning.
“Makayla, darling.” Mom’s voice rings through the speaker, the sound drawing me back to the conversation I’m supposed to be having with her. “You there? You didn’t leave me, did you? Makayla?”
I blink and return my phone to my ear. “I’m here, Mom. Sorry. I was literally just helping Eli make some lunch.” I shrug, as Eli dumps eggs onto two plates and shakes his head.
“That’s so nice, dear. You’ll have to show Eli how to make the waffle wraps, or just come home and your father can make them for us next Christmas. Anyway, we just wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas. And now that I know Eli is taking good care of you, we’ll be off and let the two of you enjoy your day. Okay. Love you. Call when you can. Give Eli a hug for us and Merry Christmas, sweetie.”
“Will do, Mom. Give Dad a hug for me, and I’ll give you a call soon. Oh, and if Celia is there, tell her I’ll call her back later. She called earlier, but I couldn’t get to my phone in time to catch her.”
I can almost hear Mom stifle a giggle through the speaker. Geez, does she know we had sex on the floor all night, too?
“Got it. I’ll let her know for you. Love you.”
“Love you too, Mom. Bye.”
I set my phone aside and bring my focus back to Eli. It only takes one look at his sexy body before mine thaws out and comes back to life. I contemplate skipping breakfast altogether, but it’s already after noon, and I’ve got one more gift hiding under the tree, ready and waiting for Eli. I follow his movement as he sets down the two plates of eggs with toast and strawberries, then kisses the top of my head.
A strange growl escapes him as he slips his hands over my shoulders and leans his naked body against mine. “That was a short chat. Go ahead and eat.” He hitches a thumb over his shoulder. “I’m gonna find my boxers and go put ’em on for brunch.”
I snatch his arm as he turns to move, preventing him from leaving. “Just so you know,” I gesture around the kitchen, but keep my sight locked in on his, “that was the sexiest show I’ve ever seen. I hope you’ll make a routine of that. Just for me.” I raise my brows and widen my eyes, seeing Eli toss me a nod that lets me know he’s up to
the task. “Your boxers are on the other side of the couch. I’ll wait to eat until you return.”
As Eli crosses the living area, I hope and pray for the exact same show from him every Christmas morning. Thoughts of spending more holidays with him drift through my mind and conjure visions of one day having a family of our own. As blue plaid boxers move into view, I lift my gaze and replace the images of small carbon copies of Eli running around at my feet with real-time ones of Eli.
He slips a thin white T-shirt that barely fits him past his shoulders, covers up his well-defined abs with a tug at the hem, and then slides into the seat next to me, flashing me a wicked grin that sets my soul on fire.
“What?” I ask, and then inhale a whiff of an unusual odor that mixes in with the scent I’ve learned is the essence of him. I can’t help but close my eyes and selfishly home in on that rain-fresh smell I love so much. Now I’m hotter than Hades, and my crotch is no longer dry.
Eli hands me a napkin as he studies my eyes. I wonder how he’s somehow read my thoughts, then common sense kicks in and I realize what the napkin is for.
He pats my thigh. “I was just thinking about how beautiful you look after a night of sex.”
“That’s funny. I was just thinking how you smell like sex rained down on you all night long. That is, if the smell of sex could actually fall like rain from the sky.” I giggle softly. “On a serious note, thanks for making brunch. I really appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome. I enjoyed making it for you.”
“Do you think we’ll be able to spend any of the day with your mom?”
“I don’t think Mom will be home from work in time to have any kind of a Christmas with us.”
“I can imagine it isn’t easy managing a 9-1-1 call center,” I say politely, even though I really don’t understand how a mother would prefer being at work to spending time with her kids. “What about your brother? Would you like to plan something with him for when he gets back from his trip?”
I feel bad. This is Christmas, and I don’t want Eli feeling alone. I know he has me, but the holidays are usually meant for following tradition and spending time with family. Though for someone who lives with his brother, he rarely talks about him.
