by Eden Bradley
He nodded, his hand lingering on her hair. They were standing close to each other, so close she could smell the spearmint from his gum. She wanted to strip off the navy button-down shirt stretched across his taut abs, then peel down his dark jeans until there were no layers between them, only skin. She’d fill herself up with him until she forgot all about tomorrow.
When Cole cleared his throat, they sprung apart like guilty lovers. Or awkward former fuckees. Pick your poison.
So…this was it.
“One more thing.” Giving in to her impulse, Wendy leaned up on her tiptoes to kiss Des a final time. His lips heated and curved under hers. “Go to Maine.”
~ * ~
SIX
It took him until Christmas Eve to decide for certain he wasn’t going. It was tempting. He genuinely liked Cole’s parents and younger sisters, and there would be enough activity to drown out the noise in his head. But this year, it felt necessary that he stay home. Why, he didn’t know.
“Are you sure?” Cole asked from the doorway while Des pulled the pages off his cartoon desk calendar.
He’d forgotten to change the thing since early December. Wendy used to peel off each day for him without fail, but she’d stopped once they became intimate. He wasn’t sure if it was an oversight or intentional. Either way, it bothered him.
Lots of things did nowadays.
“Hot, steaming Tofurky with yummy white flour gravy and all the mixed veggies you can eat. C’mon, you know you want some.”
He had to laugh, though the sound crackled in his chest. “Thank your mom and dad for inviting me. And don’t forget the presents I gave you for them.”
Cole rolled his eyes and straightened his reindeer Christmas vest. His mother had knitted it for him and he hated it with a fiery passion. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t wear it to make her happy, sap that he was. “Yeah, yeah. Already in my trunk.”
Des rose and stuck out his hand. “Have a great time.”
Cole grunted and walked around the desk then wrapped him in a bear hug. “Call if you need some company. Stubborn motherfucker.”
With that, he was gone.
Des sat back in his chair and glanced at the ticking clock above his bookshelves. Only one-sixteen. They’d given Van and Wendy the afternoon off, but only Van had taken them up on it. Wen had insisted she’d be happy to close the office on her own and had just left to get her lunch from the deli down the street. She’d probably be unpleasantly surprised to find Des waiting when she got back, since she’d assumed he’d be leaving with Cole.
To give himself something to do, he walked into the reception area and turned on the Christmas tree. The blue and silver twinkle lights helped beat back the dismal winter’s day, as did the little musical globe on the front counter. The nutcracker inside drummed his way through a traditional Christmas classic, stomping up clouds of flaky fake snow.
The door opened and he glanced over his shoulder at Wendy. She stood in the doorway with her hair in twin auburn ponytails, her cheeks flushed bright pink from the cold. Snow dusted the shoulders of her cheery red coat and melted on her rosy lips. “Des. You’re still here.”
He dipped his hands in his pockets. Even the defiant gleam of her eyes didn’t reduce her utter aloneness. “I decided not to go.” He helped her offload the paper sacks she juggled. “What is all this?”
“I kinda went overboard. It’s my own Christmas feast.” She shut the door, her cheeks reddening even more as he unpacked her lunch. “Both kinds of soup sounded good so I got a small of each and half of a turkey and cranberry sandwich. Have you eaten?”
“No.” He unwrapped her pickle and bit in. “What kinds of soup?”
“Butternut Squash and Wild Rice with Eggplant.”
“Both vegetarian. I think you should share.”
She unwound her scarf and tossed it on the back of her chair. “It is Christmas, so I suppose I could. Why didn’t you go to Maine?”
He jerked a shoulder. “I wanted to stay here.”
“Alone?”
“Maybe I’ll come over to your place,” he said, surprised when her lips pursed. He wasn’t serious, but he also hadn’t expected her to look so dismayed at the idea. “Unless you have big plans.”
“Nothing special.” As she pulled out the plastic utensils and napkins, she frowned at the nutcracker on the counter. “You really like those things? Music boxes?”
“I like them well enough. Why?”
“Those tinny songs always made me sad.” She shrugged and sat at her desk.
“Want me to turn it off?” Though she didn’t answer, he did it anyway then turned on her radio. “Better?”
She pushed one of the soup cartons his way and offered him a small smile that never reached her eyes. “Much.”
He sat down across from her at her desk and reached for his steaming cup of soup. She’d given him the squash. “Smells delicious. Here,” he said, scooping up some and holding it out to her with his other hand cupped beneath. “You should get the first sample.”
“Such a gentleman.”
“I think we both know I’m not.” His cock went painfully hard at the flare of heat that blossomed across her face as her lips slid over the spoon. “Good?”
Nodding, she made a show of ripping open a packet of crackers. “Want?”
He couldn’t stop staring at the subtle undulation of her throat while she swallowed. Good God, he was losing it. “Yes.” Her head bobbed up at his low, hungry tone. “I want.”
She quickly changed the subject to something safe, and he didn’t try to guide them back to more dangerous territory. It was just as well they keep things semi-professional. Or as professional as things could be when he couldn’t stand up for fear of revealing his hard-on.
Their lunch lasted all afternoon. The conversational topics ranged from work to friends to holiday traditions to random shit like their favorite TV shows. They were debating the pros and cons of the Giants versus the Bills when the phone rang. Wendy immediately reached for it, but he covered it with his hand. “It’s past three on Christmas Eve. Let it go to voicemail.”
“But—”
“As your boss, I insist you keep entertaining me with your devoted assurances that the Bills could actually win a Super Bowl someday.” He grinned and waved at her to continue. “As you were saying?”
The next time the phone rang it was almost five, and it was pitch black outside. “Shit.” She bounced to her feet as if she hadn’t realized it was so late. “I should get home.”
He nodded. “Your mom will be waiting.”
“Oh, she’s got her own plans tonight.” She fluffed her hair over her scarf and laughed, but he heard the sadness behind the sound. “She’s heading to my aunt’s. They’re going to snuggle in with some movies and eggnog.”
“What about you?”
“I’m staying home.”
“Alone?”
“I want to. Really.” She grabbed her coat and was about to slip it on when he rounded the desk to do the honors. “See?” she asked breathlessly. “Told you that you were a gentleman.”
He lingered with his hands on her shoulders longer than he needed to. Damn, her hair smelled as fresh as the inside of an icicle and as sweet as a candy cane.
Oh fuck, he did not need to think about candy canes. Not when she was smiling at him in the twinkling glow from the tree, her eyes deep and dark and way too aware of the energy all but pulsating between them.
“I’m not going to argue, because that would just be redundant.” He lifted her ponytails over her coat and swallowed at the spill of her red hair. Once, just once, he wanted to see it across his pillow.
Laughing softly, she grabbed the lapels of his shirt and leaned up to press her mouth to his. She tasted of her peach iced tea and moved back way too soon. “Merry Christmas, Des.”
“Merry Christmas, Wen.”
Once she was gone, he sat at her desk and stared at the tree until the lights blurred. If he’d ever felt more a
lone, he didn’t remember it.
It didn’t have to be that way. They could both be alone or they could be together. Fuck the consequences.
He pulled out his phone. He’d have to get his ass in gear if he had any hope of pulling this off.
~ * ~
Christmas Eve and what was she doing? Giving herself a pedicure while crying over It’s A Wonderful Life. Later she’d give her props to Santa by curling up in her winter’s nest with her vibrator.
Fa-la-la-flipping-la.
Wendy wiped her damp cheeks. Van had called to make sure she was okay and she’d lied through her teeth. Sure, she was dandy. So what if she was alone on the worst night of the year? She’d chew up her loneliness with the same zeal she’d disposed of Aunt Gert’s fruitcake.
No regrets here, baby.
At least her purple passion toenails looked all sparkly. She’d just paint the strip of silver polish on the tips and—
The doorbell rang and she nearly jolted off the couch. The bell didn’t exactly ring so much as give a depressed fart of air that passed for music. Had Mom decided to have Aunt Gert drive her back early? If so, where was her key?
Cursing her toe separators, Wendy hobbled to the door. On the way she cast a glance at herself. Her hair was still in pigtails and she wore ripped leggings and a hot pink sports bra. They kept the apartment at a zillion degrees to make sure her mom didn’t have a relapse with her pneumonia, so the minute her mom took off, Wendy stripped down.
She peeked out the curtain, though the porch light of their two-family house was out yet again. “Who is it?”
No answer, but her mom was hard of hearing. Just in case, she dumped the silk flowers out of the vase on the side table and swung it above her head, ready to strike, as she yanked open the door.
Oh, shit.
She blinked, almost wishing it was a lunatic intent on robbing her of all three of her worldly goods. Because then she wouldn’t have to mentally berate her floppy hair and raggedy clothes and the fact that Des was carrying the world’s tiniest Christmas tree and a wrapped gift as if he were bringing joy to the poor and decrepit.
Which he kind of was.
He looked her up and down, not smiling. Not reacting at all until he noticed the vase she still gripped like a weapon. Then he started to laugh.
“Don’t hurt me, please. I come bearing gifts.” He held out his miniscule tree and the wrapped box, slaying her with a grin that made her hold turn slippery on the vase. “Can I come in?” he prompted when she only stared.
“What are you doing here?”
“It’s stupid for us both to be alone on Christmas, don’t you think?”
“But—”
“Let me in, Wendy.”
She stepped aside and he walked inside, bringing a wave of cold air with him. She shivered as he shut the door, but she didn’t let go of the vase. Right then she needed something to hold on to.
“A little chilly for that kind of outfit, isn’t it?”
When she didn’t speak, he sighed and set down his pathetic little tree—the last from the lot at the end of the street, by the looks of things—and his gift, along with a plastic bag that he’d procured from under his coat. It smelled like Chinese food.
Her belly rumbled and he smiled, arching a brow. “So you don’t want me or my tree, but you’ll take my eats, huh?”
Smiling weakly, she shoved the silk flowers back in the vase and set it on the table. Her gaze darted from the shabby multicolored rug to the equally threadbare sofa to the crappy dollar store pictures she’d framed and hung in an attempt to give the place some life.
And Des stood in her hall in his spendy leather coat and pricey sneakers and designer jeans. She wanted to throw up.
“What’s wrong?”
“You shouldn’t be here.” She flung a glance at her boxy old-fashioned TV where little Zuzu was talking about an angel earning her wings. Lines scrolled across the bottom, for God’s sake. “I can’t do this.”
“Why shouldn’t I be here? I want to be.” He stepped closer and took her suddenly cold hands in his larger warm ones. “I thought you could use a tree, but you don’t have to put it up if you don’t like it. That’s not why I came.”
She angled her head. “So why did you?”
His beautiful eyes burned into hers. “Because I couldn’t think of anyone else I’d rather spend tonight with than you.”
Her wobbly heart plummeted straight to her toes by way of her lady bits. Every spot on the way tingled. “Sure you’re not just doing your holiday good deed?”
“Actually, I am. I hope to be repaid in blowjobs and eggnog. Sound good to you?”
She couldn’t help laughing as she waved at the living room. “Go on, go sit. I’ll just change.”
“No. You’re fine.” He rubbed the indent in her chin. “I’m not company. I want you just as you are.”
“Do you hear that dripping noise?” she whispered when she could finally speak.
He frowned. “No.”
“That’s me, melting.” His slow grin turned that melting thing she had going on into a total winter thaw. Especially between her legs. “I didn’t know you could be romantic, Des.”
“It’s probably because I’m getting ready to romance a veggie egg roll in extra duck sauce. It’s my one Christmas non-vegan indulgence and I’m feeling all lovey-dovey.”
She laughed and went back into the hall. “I’ll serve the food and you can put up the tree.” She knelt, noticing the paper bag on top of the gift. She dug through it and shook her head, hoping the motion would discourage her tears. He really had thought of everything. “Mini lights? And ornaments?”
“I forgot the star.”
“Gonna dock your pay for that one.”
“The drugstore didn’t have much left, but I figured those would—”
Before he could finish, she shot to her feet and whirled into his arms, clamping her mouth down on his so hard that he let out a grunt. Then he was returning her kiss, his lips as icy as the frost that clung to his coat. He streaked his hands up her spine to tug on her hair, using it to pull her head back so he could plunge even deeper into her mouth. He was practically fucking her, just with his tongue instead of his cock.
She broke away and gasped for air. “You’re still my boss.”
“I don’t care about that. It won’t change anything.” His palms came up to frame her cheeks, and when his face dipped to hers, she realized he was shaking. They both were. “Just let me love you.”
He didn’t mean it the way it sounded. That wasn’t possible. But her body already missed his. So what if the word “love” from Des’s mouth for any reason made her long foolishly for more? She was a pragmatist, and she didn’t expect miracles.
Her rundown apartment and her job suddenly didn’t factor in the decision. This wasn’t about any of that. He didn’t feel sorry for her. It also wasn’t about Cole or quick office fucks with thick ripple icicles from the tree, as amazing as that had been.
There was a world of secrets in his eyes and she wanted to learn them all.
“Come with me,” she murmured.
~ * ~
SEVEN
Her bedroom matched the rest of the house. It was sparsely decorated and the overhead light left the corners in shadows. Not counting her desk. That was bathed in a purple and yellow shimmering glow.
He grinned. “You have a lava lamp. You didn’t even live through the sixties.”
“No, but I loved them just the same. You should’ve seen my room back in Tennessee. I had a black light and fuzzy posters.” Biting her lip, she walked to the full bed. “Sorry, it’s kind of small.”
“That’s okay. We’ll just stack up double-decker.”
She laughed and flipped one of her ponytails over her shoulder. “Do you want a drink first? I have soda and eggnog. Coffee too.”
“I’m fine, thanks.” He came up behind her and snagged her full hips in his hands. She was rounded in all the right ways, and his c
ock wasn’t the least bit bashful about showing its appreciation. “I just want you.”
She slipped away and opened the nightstand drawer. “I don’t think I have any condoms. I haven’t bought any since—” She sighed.
“Since when?”
“Since I came here. I thought I might’ve had some stashed from home, but they’d probably be duds anyway.” She sat down heavily on the bed. “I’ve never had a guy in this room.”
“Am I supposed to be disappointed about any of these things? Because I’m not.” He sat down beside her and rubbed her thigh. “I have some.”
“Of course you do. You and Cole are always prepared.”
He didn’t miss the note of dejection in her voice. He turned toward her, waiting until she did the same. “I’d like to not use them tonight. I’ve never…” He exhaled. “I’ve never gone raw with a woman.”
“What about with a man?”
“No. There’s only been Cole and some dude in college. I just tried it with him to see if I was really bi.” He glanced down at his hands. “The experience sucked, so I decided it was just about Cole for me. And only when we’re with a woman.”
“You’ve known Cole a long time.”
“Yeah. We met in high school in Maine. We came to New York for college and stayed.”
“Was he born in England or something?”
“You mean because he uses the word ‘love’ as an endearment?” At her nod, he chuckled. “He was an exchange student in London for one semester. I think he tries to sound British to get women going.”
“It works for Van. She swoons every time he starts that ‘love’ stuff.” Wendy picked at a loose thread on her comforter. “When did you and he, you know? Start doing it?”
Considering everything she’d done with them, he found it incredibly charming that she could still be shy. “We didn’t have sex until we shared a girl at our prom senior year. We’ve been together sporadically since then. If you’re wondering about my sexual history, I’ve been tested recently. I’m clean.”
