Gathered Up

by Annabeth Albert

  “Benedict.” I looked over to find the cat perched on the toilet lid. He did seem rather…amused by us, head tilted to one side.

  “I don’t know, man—I really want to touch you right now, but I’m worried about getting my eyes scratched out.”

  “Bunny. Scram.” I tossed a sprinkle of water in his direction, which sent him fleeing from the room.

  “There. Touch away.” Setting my drink aside, I leaned back, luxuriating in the hard press of his muscles behind me. I expected Sawyer to go straight for my cock, but instead he rubbed my neck and shoulders, big soapy hands massaging me until I was limp against him. He was anything but limp, though. I could feel him hard against the small of my back. Eventually his hands dipped to toy with my nipples.

  I made a noise that was half whine, half moan.

  “You’re so responsive you make me wish nipple clamps were one of your presents.” Sawyer laughed darkly. “But my fingers are more fun.”

  He tweaked and pinched until my ragged moans filled the small space.

  “I know you’re all about the waiting, but tonight you’re mine, and I want to play with you like this.” His hand snaked down lower, over my belly to my cock, which bobbed below the surface of the water. “Want to make you come.”

  “We’re going to need a shower after our bath,” I said breathlessly.

  “That’s the whole plan.” He started to stroke in earnest now, one hand on my nipple, one on my cock, both holding me tight against him. I leaned my head back so that we could kiss while he worked me. Deliciously luxurious sensations swept over me. It was heady being the center of all his attention like this. He was turned on for sure, but he didn’t seem all that close to orgasm himself. He was doing this for me and that made all my muscles hum for him.

  I arched up to meet his stroke, but his hands and arms kept me locked in place. “No, let me. Just let it come,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

  “Yes.” I gave myself over to the sensations, let him toy with me, speeding up and slowing down as he wished until finally I felt my body start to tense. “Right there. Oh fuck. Right there.”

  “Yeah, I’ve got you. Come now.” His fingers pinched my nipple right as his grip tightened on my cock, stroking faster now.

  “Sawyer. God. Sawyer.” I came in a series of full-body shudders. “Love you.”

  “Love you, too, babe.” Sawyer laughed. “We’re going to work on you saying that when you’re not drunk on sex, though, okay?”

  “It’s a deal.” Giddy laughter swept through me, too.

  “Water’s getting cold. Shower now?” He helped me stand up. I set the tub draining while Sawyer got the shower turned on. He was still erect and he leered at me as I joined him.

  “What would you like?” I looped my arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to his lips before sinking to my knees in the tiled shower stall.

  “That. That’s pretty much it.” Sawyer’s chuckle seemed to bounce off the glass shower door. “But you don’t have to.”

  “I want to.” I wasn’t entirely unfamiliar with the appeal of this act. It wasn’t my absolute favorite, but there were times like right then when it was what I most wanted to be doing. I licked all around his crown, making him gasp.

  “Only thing hotter is if we’d tied your hands first.” Sawyer moaned, his head falling back to rest on the shower wall.

  “Life goals,” I said right before I swallowed him as far as I could. I worked the base of his shaft with my fist, keeping him from going too deep too fast.

  His breath hitched as I sped up my mouth and hand. “Hols…put your hands behind your back.” There was a heavy dose of please in Sawyer’s command.

  Still, though, it took me a second to comply. This was a new level of trust; trusting that he wouldn’t go too deep and choke me, giving up this last piece of control to him. Slowly I let go of his shaft and clasped my hands behind my back. From his swift intake, I could tell he liked this very much. And I needn’t have worried—his hand replaced mine at the base of his cock, controlling the depth of his thrusts. His other hand cradled my face. Never had I surrendered like this.

  “Can I—fuck, I want to come on you. Keep your hands like that. Fuck.” I could tell by the salty tang against my tongue that he was close.

  “Do it.” I closed my eyes and gave myself over to the sensations of being used like this by Sawyer. My cock gave an ambitious throb, but this was a different sort of pleasure—a diffuse one that made my whole body thrum with joy.

  “Here it comes.” Sawyer pulled out of my mouth. Thwap. Thwap. His hand made obscene noises as he jerked himself the rest of the way there.

  “Oh fuck. Hols. You look…so sexy. Fuck.” The first warm spurt hit my shoulders, the rest my neck and chest.

  “Hols…” Sawyer hauled me to my feet, pressing his front to my back. “You’re incredible.”

  I was entirely certain he’d had far better blow jobs, but I basked in the praise nonetheless. He soaped me up, washing away the last of his come.

  “I love you.” He lightly bit my ear.

  “What’s this? I thought you just said not to trust after-sex declarations?”

  “How about you tell me again anyway?” He spun me around so he could look me in the eye.

  “I love you.” I met his gaze, tried to tell him with my eyes that this wasn’t just a sex thing for me.

  “Love you, too, and I bet it’s after midnight now. Merry Christmas.”

  “This really is the best Christmas Eve ever.” I pulled him down for a kiss.

  Chapter 15

  Christmas morning Sawyer brought me tea in bed before getting back under the covers with me. He had his phone in hand and was reading a text.

  “See? Char sent a picture of their Christmas morning. Wrapping paper everywhere.” He held out the phone so I, too, could see pure, unadulterated two-year-old joy. A second pic was a group shot of a tired Tucker, grinning Aria, and squashed-in Char. My family. My chest loosened, fewer of the thoughts of what we were missing creeping in. This was what I had now and it was more than enough.

  “And this one’s from my mom. I didn’t tell her where I was last night—promise—just that I couldn’t come over. She sent a pic of all the food in the oven.” His mom had used some sort of app that let her add a holiday border to the picture.

  A little idea crept into my head. “Hey, give me your phone for a second?”

  “Sure.” He let me take it and I flipped it to the camera app.

  “Come here.” I gestured. “I want a selfie.”

  “You, Hollis Alcott, want a selfie?” His eyes looked ready to spring from his head. “I didn’t even know you knew that word.”

  “Yes, well, it seems the whole world is documenting their Christmas morning and I want to as well. Smile.”

  He leaned in and I took a picture of our faces. My smile looked a bit unused. Like new sneakers or stiff jeans, it was going to take a bit before it eased up. But Sawyer’s joyful face was more than worth the effort to capture the memory of our first holiday.

  “Want me to show you how to add a border?” Sawyer offered.

  “No. I think it’s perfect just like this,” I said. Then I took a deep breath so that I could say the next part really fast. “And-send-it-to-Char-and-your-mom.”

  Sawyer blinked. “Seriously?”

  “Just say Merry Christmas from us or something.” My hand shook. “But this way they’ll know before we head over for dinner and they can get their squealing out of the way before we arrive.” Hopefully.

  “I really am okay with easing into this.” Sawyer rubbed my shoulder. “I shouldn’t have pressured you about that. We can just wait and let them guess—”

  “That’s far more gossip.” I shuddered. “No, you were right. We shouldn’t slink around. We should celebrate this.”

  “I do.” He g
ave me a quick kiss, then returned his attention to his phone. “Okay, sending in three-two—”

  “Oh, just hit Send already, drama queen.”

  “Okay, sent.”

  And predictably, twenty seconds later, Sawyer’s phone—and mine—started blowing up with messages from the family.

  “How about we shut the phones off and do our presents?” Sawyer suggested. “They’ll still be flipping out later, I’m sure. And you’re going to need one of your presents before we head over there.”

  “Now I’m intrigued.” I wrapped myself in the blanket and carried my tea into the living area. This really was the nicest of Christmas mornings—slow, sleepy sex, tea in bed, and now gifts.

  “I have one for you, too.” I dug the box out from the pile of gifts for Aria, Char and Tucker, and Sawyer’s parents.

  “Hey, Hols, look out the window!” Sawyer motioned. “Snow.”

  “A dusting,” I corrected. It wasn’t a Christmas blizzard, not even close. But by Portland standards it was absolutely the rare “white” Christmas.

  “This one first.” Sawyer handed me a flat box. I recognized the wrapping job.

  “Iplik?” I asked.

  “Open it and see.” Sawyer bounced a bit from his seat on the couch.

  “Oh my.” I opened it to reveal the scarf that had so called to me. White and billowy, it felt even nicer against my skin than I’d imagined.

  “I kind of did a number on your neck again.” Sawyer gave me a sheepish smile. “Thought you could use more camouflage.”

  “Always.” I gave him a quick kiss before he was shoving the other present at me.

  “And this one is for us for tonight.”

  “After the family gathering?”

  “Yup.” He grinned. “It can be our reward.”

  I opened the large box, expecting to find some sort of bondage gear, but instead laughed out loud. “Lord of the Rings Legos? The Tower of Orthanc? Really?”

  “I figured we could build it together tonight.”

  “We could.” I looked over at my Tolkien shelf.

  “I know it was kind of your thing with your dad, but I thought maybe it could be our thing, too. A new tradition of building something together on Christmas evening.”

  “We are building something.” I leaned in and kissed him, and it was a while before we came back up for air and I handed him his present. “I’m feeling a bit guilty now because your gift isn’t quite as—”

  “Let me open it first.” He opened the box to reveal a neat row of bow ties. “Ties!”

  “I know it’s kind of a cliché gift, but…” I struggled to explain what had drawn me to this gift for him. “You said you were changing. Trying new things. And this is me believing you.”

  “Thank you.” He kissed me tenderly and the paper I’d tucked in among the ties fluttered to the floor. He picked it up and opened it. “And a receipt for the shibari workshop?”

  “I believe you when you say this isn’t a whim for you, too.” I pulled him close.

  “You’re my last, best hobby, Hols. I promise.” He grinned down at the paper and never had I so anticipated a January in Portland.

  * * * *

  That anticipation carried me through the family gathering—and the flood of Finally! You guys! Finally! jokes and comments. Sawyer hadn’t been lying when he said they’d still be flipping out. But I endured, with more good humor than I’d thought. Having Sawyer right next to me helped. We’d baked Mother’s spice cake together—Bundt pan and all—before heading over, and I nibbled on that as we watched the kids open their gifts. It wasn’t exactly my mom’s cake, and I’d miss them both forever, but this was, as Sawyer put it, something. Something real. Something enduring. Something I’d almost let slip away.

  Aria laughed at something Sawyer said and her crinkled-up eyes looked so much like Mom’s that my breath caught.

  “You know who you look like?” I said, scooping her up. “Your grandma Rose. She would have loved you.”

  “I wuv you.” She kissed my nose. Sawyer fed her bits of cake and I told her about the recipe. She was much too little, but someday she’d be old enough for my stories about them, for me to bring my memories to life, and I was finally ready to share, to open myself up instead of bottling it all inside.

  Eventually, Sawyer’s dad made his way to the piano, and his mom herded up all the little ones to sing along to some carols. Char and Sawyer joined in first of course, but I was surprised to find myself humming along with the second song, and by the third, I’d softly joined in.

  Sawyer squeezed my hand as across the room Char gave me a knowing look. Sawyer had won the bet after all—he’d given me reason to look forward to this season again. Reason to look forward to all the seasons with him by my side.

  One year later

  “Come on, Uncle Holly!” Aria squealed from atop Sawyer’s shoulders as we pushed through the moderate weeknight crowd at ZooLights. We’d timed our excursion well, but it still felt like half of Portland had turned out for the crisp, clear night without a trace of rain.

  “Is your tree up?” Char asked. She trailed behind us, waiting for Tucker, who was pushing the double stroller with the sleeping twins in it.

  “Yup. We went down to Sleighbells to cut our tree and get our first ornaments last weekend,” Sawyer said.

  “You cut a tree?” Char bumped my shoulder.

  “Sawyer cut a tree. I drank cocoa and plotted how to keep the cat off the tree.”

  “We put baby gates all around ours,” Tucker said. “You could try that.”

  I shuddered at the idea of the plastic monstrosities that had been all over Char’s house ever since the twins had started crawling, taking over our nice, clean condo. We both loved being uncles, we really did, but we were in solemn agreement that Char and Tucker were doing all the child-rearing for this next generation.

  “Has the cat forgiven you for moving in yet, Sawyer?” Tucker asked.

  “I think so,” Sawyer said cautiously. “He hasn’t puked in my shoe for two weeks now, but he still watches me while I shower like he’s plotting my doom.”

  “He likes you,” I said loyally. As I kept telling Sawyer, the fact that he regularly practiced his shibari on me and the cat never once jumped to defend me was proof enough that he wasn’t that upset with Sawyer’s new presence in our home.

  And it truly was a home now. A tree in the front window, graphic novels on the shelves next to my Tolkien collection, baked goods in my kitchen as Sawyer’s other classes yielded tasty dividends, and a warm man in my bed every night.

  “Can we see the windows ’gain tomorrow?” Aria asked. The neighborhood business association had held its contest again this year, and I supposed they were rotating the prizes through the different stores because somehow Sawyer didn’t win despite having singing Jedi knights and a replica of Pioneer Square, tree and all.

  “Uncle Holly would love to show you his certificate again.” Sawyer laughed. Really, I still didn’t know why they’d picked my window as the winner, which still stood in stark contrast to Sawyer’s. But I’d built trees out of handmade paper and pencils and created roads of ink. Miniature lights illuminated everything. It was all very fanciful and far too much work to be practical.

  And speaking of fanciful, I’d finally given in and created a small corner with only the best paper goods for children, and yes, a bucket with books to be looked at in the store. Business was up. I couldn’t complain.

  Sawyer passed Aria off to Char as we came through a lighted tunnel. Tucker, Char, and the kids headed off to the petting zoo area, leaving Sawyer and me to explore on our own a bit. Grabbing my hand, he pulled me close. “You’re sitting next to me on the train right?”

  “Of course.” I smiled dopily at him as we headed over to the station.

  “Good because I’ve waited all year for
a do-over.”

  “I promise not to run this time.” Deep meaning laced my words. I’d focused so much on my being able to trust him, when in truth, he’d had to extend the same trust to me, make sure that I wasn’t going to bolt again at the first sign of adversity.

  “Better not.” Sawyer pulled me close as we boarded the train. “Then I’d just have to tie you down.”

  “On second thought—”

  “Okay, maybe I’m going to tie you down regardless.” Sawyer’s breath was warm in my ear. And when he kissed me this time, my whole body lit up like the sights around us. I’d been hunting for the perfect present for him for weeks, but nothing could compete with the gift of the last year together—of the joy of having him by my side. Sure, my life was much louder these days—no one in the world was better at driving me crazy—but I was also filling it up with memories I wanted to keep forever. Just like Sawyer.

  Danced Close

  Portland Heat

  Annabeth Albert

  LYRICAL SHINE PRESS

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  Chapter 1

  Kendall

  “Are we ready to have our cake and eat it too?” I joked as my clients, Maria and Leah, walked up the sidewalk in front of the bakery. Both of them laughed, which was my intent.

  “I’m so nervous,” Maria confessed, tossing her long, black hair over one shoulder. “I’ve never ordered something so fancy.”

  They were both prone to attacks of nerves about their wedding, and it was my job to reassure them and keep everything running smoothly. I prided myself on taking good care of my clients, so I put on my most reassuring smile.

  “This is supposed to be fun. Your cake should be the least of your worries, and Vic’s going to take great care of you.” I removed their folder from my green Alexander McQueen handbag. Inside the folder, I had all the details for their big day next month, as well as a bunch of design inspiration photos for their dresses, cake, and decor. They might be working on a tight schedule, but these two had definite ideas about how their wedding should go.