Her clit was still pulsing in pleasure and her inner tissues felt chafed and raw from his fingers, but it only intensified the pleasure. He’d lost all control and will power now, shuttling into her with abandon, his long fingers digging into her hips. She didn’t need to see his face to know he was close, his hips grinding into her ass, his hair rough on her tender skin. Damn, she needed him.
He slowed the slightest bit to press a thumb to her clit, not moving in the slightest, just there as a reminder of who was in charge as he slowly began moving in her again. She bore down on him, her inner muscles clenching with force to keep him in, to touch him somehow and have that connection.
And then finally, his hand gripping in her hair, he pulled at her and with a harsh breath he stilled inside her, sending his thumb over her just enough to take her over the edge one more time.
They stayed locked together after they went over, and Laura wasn’t sure she ever wanted to be separate. She was already falling in love with him. He was Will and he was hers, and yet, he refused to belong to anyone. And she knew it was because everyone always left him, but she would never leave him again.
But for now, her body didn’t care about the future because languid and lovely waves of contentment were rolling over her like a heady dream.
Will was on top of her, still inside her, but he was propped up on his arms not giving her his weight, watching out for her as always.
Finally, when the sweat on her body started to cool, he left a string of kisses down her back as he slid out of her and dropped down onto the mattress beside her. “That was the best fucking Christmas present I’ve ever gotten.”
Her head nestled into his soft pillow, her eyes were already drifting closed.
“Me too.”
When she woke again hours later, the bed was empty. She got up and took a shower then stopped by her bedroom on the way to the living area to get the gifts she’d gotten for Will. They weren’t really anything complicated, just some things she’d picked up at her apartment during her Christmas shopping spree on her first day at Will’s.
Before she left her room she made a quick call to her parents and it was such a bummer still to have missed the holidays with them, but they sounded cheerful as always and her sister and brother were there as well so they weren’t alone.
She made her way out into the living room, decked in pair of red flannel pajamas with Christmas trees on them because no matter the X-rated nature of what they’d done in the bedroom just hours ago, it was still Christmas. Expecting to find Will watching television or doing work on his laptop like he’d done a couple of days ago, it was a surprise to find him flipping pancakes on the stovetop while a half dozen or so wrapped gifts sat under the tree.
“What are you doing?” she asked, drinking in the sight of him in a worn slate sweatshirt and black jogging pants.
“Making breakfast,” he informed, his hot gaze sliding over her appreciatively. Good lord, she was going to be lucky to make it through breakfast without jumping him.
She met his eyes after his little perusal with a bland smile. “Yes, I can see that, but you knew I was going to do it.”
He raised a dark eyebrow. “Well, I was hungry and you were sleeping, so I decided not to listen to you.”
Her lips pursed, but they both knew she wasn’t actually annoyed and she had bigger issues to confront presently anyway. Picking up a strawberry from the bowl of fruit he’d set out, she nodded toward the tree. “And do you care to explain that?”
“You put up the tree yourself—are you looking for me to extrapolate a theme or something?” he asked, being willfully obtuse. The ass.
“And the presents? Is there a theme I’m supposed to extrapolate from those?”
A corner of his mouth lifted. “It’s Christmas—what was I supposed to do?”
She wanted to go back in time and spend every Christmas with him. Knowing that he’d never let her all the way in now because she’d already betrayed him was weighing on her mind. To a person who had trouble believing her worth, to know that he would never believe in her enough to stay with her was tragic.
But they had this. They had now. So she held up her own presents and stuck them under the tree alongside the others before returning to sit at the island. Grabbing some of the berries from the bowl, she chewed as she watched him with the pancakes.
“Are there chocolate chips in those?”
He scooted the bag of chips over to her and she took a few of those as well, realizing just how easy it was to be with him.
“You’ve made me these before, you know?” she said, watching as he effortlessly flipped over the four silver-dollar-sized pancakes.
He nodded, his eyes still on the pancakes.
“For my sixteenth birthday you tried to get a cake mix, but the gas station was out of them so you got a box of pancake mix and chocolate chips and made me a whole stack with a candle on top.”
She was able to smile at the memory because no matter how shitty their life had been he’d always been able to make things okay.
“It was a great birthday,” she told him when he still wouldn’t look at her.
“Yeah,” he said, finally meeting her eyes. “It was. But I always wished I could have gotten you a real cake.”
She shrugged. “I prefer pancakes anyway.” At least ones made by Will in his pajamas.
Nodding to the stack of white plates in front of her, he served up the perfectly golden circles onto one of them and handed it to her. “Well, I don’t want to eat while you’re still cooking,” she balked, refusing the plate.
“By the time you’re finished getting yours ready these will be done,” he said, his tone brooking no argument. “Eat.”
She crinkled her nose at him, but swiped some butter over the stack along with some maple syrup. “You warmed it up even?”
“No one likes cold maple syrup.”
“You’re so fancy now,” she grinned, forking off a bite, happiness bubbling up inside her like a geyser. She met his eyes as she took the first bite, the flavor of maple and crispy cake making her mouth extremely happy. “And a good cook.”
His eyes darkened as he watched her chew and she felt the response in between her own legs. This was on the books as the dirtiest Christmas she’d ever had.
“Thanks,” he told her, the hot look under control. “It was the least I could do after the lasagna last night.”
She just shook her head because that was a remnant from childhood too; she’d always been in his debt, but never the other way around. Will always wanted the scales to be balanced. But he’d been right, by the time she was finished with her first pancake, the rest were done cooking and they sat side by side at the island in another comfortable silence as they ate.
Stuffing her face with the last couple of bites, she sat back in her chair and watched as he did the same, only he’d drenched his plate with enough syrup to give a person diabetes.
“Are those really all for me?” she asked, eyeing the stack of perfectly wrapped gifts under the tree. Shiny gold, silver and red boxes with professionally tied bows all sat there pretty as a picture.
“Yep. Don’t get too excited—I only had two hours to shop while you got ready yesterday,” he said.
“I’m ashamed that I only have a few gifts for you,” she told him, taking his empty plate and sticking it into the dishwasher.
Will took her hand, pulling her into him and her entire body relaxed against his just as if it belonged there. “Hey,” he said, his voice serious, “anything is perfect and we’re both just trying to make the best out of an unexpected situation.”
The words had her eyebrows slamming together, but he immediately rolled his eyes. “You know that’s not what I mean.”
She relaxed again and he walked them to the couch, flipping on the television to a channel with an old Christmas-movie marathon. He�
��d really learned a lot in the short time she’d invaded his home.
“You want to open them now?” he asked.
“Yeah, what else are we doing? It’s Christmas,” she pointed out.
“A whole bunch of nothing, I hope,” he threw back, setting his coffee mug on the coffee table. At his words she smiled. In just the last few days he’d seemed to chill out and relax. The man she met in the lobby by the tree that day would never entertain a day of doing nothing. Hell, he’d been dragging them all over town in a blizzard just to do work. And yet here he was, finally, maybe, letting his guard down a little. Maybe letting her in a little.
He handed her a pile of presents and her heart tugged that he’d done this for her on such short notice.
“This is so exciting,” she teased, giving him a goofy smile as she opened the first gift, a small box with gold wrapping and green fabric ribbon. “It’s such a pretty gift I don’t want to tear the paper and ruin it.”
Will rolled his eyes, barely paying attention to her, his eyes focused on the television screen. She wondered how often he gave presents to women and if these ones were just the standard parting gifts in his arsenal.
Inside was a box that she opened to reveal a delicate etched-glass ornament the color of an opal. It was lovely and she was definitely going to cry by the end of the gift exchange. “It’s beautiful,” she told him, holding the bulb up to the sun shining in from the windows. She let it spin so the light could hit all the colors. “Thank you so much. It’ll go on my tree always from now on.”
He handed her a few more, some of which were more ornaments and pretty cookie tins she could use for gifts, that considering their time together were appreciated and thoughtful. And further proof that he paid attention to her.
She made him open one of hers, which was just a bag of insanely expensive coffee from the coffee shop near her brownstone, probably the best in the city, but he had a big smile on his face so she hoped he enjoyed it. Living in a hotel, he probably had the same stuff all the time and the coffee press was the only thing in the kitchen she’d actually seen him use before today.
But it was her next gift to him that was throwing her into fits of anxiety. Once he actually opened the package and was staring down at the contents as if he had no idea what it was, she thought she might die or fall apart at the seams.
Then, after what was an interminable period of time, like at least fifty years, he met her eyes, his expression studied and blank as he said, “You kept this?”
“Of course I did.”
He ran his thumb over the oak frame of the picture. “But I don’t want this back—I wanted you to have it.”
She knew he’d say that but she’d wanted him to know how much he’d meant to her.
“I always thought you’d end up being an artist,” she said, changing the subject as she peered over at the drawing he’d done of her all those years ago. It was a simple pencil sketch, but the details were undeniably her. A shy smile on her face, the kind from a person who was too afraid to smile because once she did, life always seemed to go directly into the toilet. That had just been a fact of her life then.
He laughed. “I have too much hustle to be an artist.”
“Well, you could have been,” she pressed, undeterred. “But you can keep that—it’s just a copy. I’d never give up the original, though I do wish you’d sign it now.”
He rolled his eyes and picked up the last gift. She’d wrapped all his gifts in black paper with red-and-silver ribbon because that seemed like his vibe. After opening the rectangular cardboard box inside, he pulled out another picture, this one in a newer and sleeker black onyx frame to match everything else in his decor.
Meeting her eyes, his expression was unreadable. “I didn’t know this even existed.”
“It did,” she told him. “We got one of those disposable cameras one time, remember? But never had the money to get it developed. I took it with me when I left and eventually got the film developed and this one was in there. I have other ones of us, but this was my favorite so I made you a copy.”
It wasn’t a posed photograph or anything that a photographer would be proud of; it was just them in the abandoned park across the street from their apartment building, sitting on a pair of swings, but he’d thrown his arm around her as he reached up to take the picture, so they were off center and their heads were turned to each other. She wore an old yellow hoodie and he a black canvas coat she remembered he’d saved up for months to buy, working at the gas station down the street, which was how they’d ended up eating for most of her last year there. As soon as Will had been able to work, he’d done it, mostly so they could eat, she knew.
His dark hair fell over his forehead in the picture just as it did now, only the expertly faded sides were salon-cut now whereas he’d let it grow out when they were young.
“I thought this place could use a little personalizing, some pictures of people you know so future visitors don’t think you’re a serial killer.”
He continued to stare at the picture, silent, until she thought she’d screwed up. “I wish I’d had a picture of you,” he finally said, his voice so low she could barely hear him. “I was afraid I’d forget what you looked like, but then when I saw you in the hotel I knew how stupid that worry had been. I could never forget.”
Tears threatened, so she reached out and pulled him into a hug. “I’d never forget either, but it was nice to have you around all these years too.”
He wrapped a single arm around her, giving a nearly imperceptible squeeze.
“Thank you.”
The first tear started down her face and she wiped it away before she pulled back to set her lips to his.
“This hasn’t been a terrible Christmas,” she said, pulling back to give him a teasing smile.
“It’s been my best one,” Will admitted.
The unemotional statement of fact had her tearing up again because she was very afraid that it was her best one too.
CHAPTER TEN
WILL HAD TALKED LAURA into coming to a business lunch at Palmetto’s, the restaurant he usually used for those types of meetings. He’d needed some space after their cozy Christmas day because he was mad as hell. The interminably long lunch over, where he’d gotten no further on his expansion plans, he led her out from under the green awning of the restaurant’s entrance, knowing he’d done a shitty job of hiding his anger too.
“So I don’t know what happened in there, but you seemed pissed off,” Laura said, confirming his suspicions.
Will glanced down at her, looking lovely, and lied to her face because the truth would hurt her feelings and probably start a fight. “That guy I was talking to in there was a dick. He’s a local New Jersey guy who thinks he can hose big-city guys on the price of land as if we’re not living in the age of information where I can find out how much a piece of property is worth in seconds.”
As Christmas day had gone on, he’d gone from surprise, to happiness, and then finally low-grade rage at her Christmas gifts. That Laura had tangible memories of their time together and he’d had fuck all over the years. It just brought back the day she’d left, the panic he’d felt and the eventual hardening of his heart, her betrayal the final piece in what was now an impenetrable wall. He thought he was over his anger toward her, but one look at his drawing had brought it all back.
Over the years when he’d thought about being in relationships, he’d known he was too screwed up for anything like that. When he’d been young and dumb and with Laura, someone who understood all too well what it was like to be passed around and overlooked at every single turn, it could have worked. But now, he’d never trust anyone enough to not head out at the first sign of difficulty—and he’d make it difficult, he knew that. If he’d been poor still, it might have been easier, too, he’d know people stayed because of him instead of his money, but it was too late for that, as we
ll.
He’d been destined to be alone from the moment Laura had walked out the apartment building doors all those years ago. He’d known it then and he still knew it now.
So he buried his anger for her once again because it wasn’t her fault and it also helped nothing. Instead he focused on the fact that he felt good with her. He didn’t trust her not to run out on him again, but he still wanted to be around her.
“You want to open up a hotel in New Jersey?” she asked, reaching out to hold his hand, but he saw it coming and plucked his phone from his pocket to avoid her.
“I want to open a hotel everywhere,” he told her, pretending to type something, but really just tapping out some nonsense and then leaving his phone in his hand so she wouldn’t get any ideas.
She laughed at his statement. “You were always ambitious.”
Will pulled open the door to his car waiting at the curb and helped her into the back.
They’d been driving a few moments when he saw her hesitate to speak and knew something bad was coming.
“When you asked me to go to dinner with you tonight, is it meant to be a date or is it another business thing?” she asked carefully, referring to the other distraction he’d proposed because he couldn’t do another cozy night like yesterday. After her tenants could get out of the city and go home, he needed to move on from whatever this thing was between them. Time with her, having a taste of what his life could have been, was eating at his peace of mind.
He turned, meeting her eyes, making sure his expression stayed neutral. “If you’d like it to be a date, then yes. No formal business will be conducted.”
Laura pursed her lips at the nonanswer. “I do want it to be a date,” she declared, her chin jutting out. And he wasn’t unaffected by her admission. He loved Laura, more than anyone in his life and while he wanted to give her everything she needed, he also knew that he hadn’t forgiven her since any reminder of her leaving sent him into a depressed spiral. “I don’t know what this week has been for you, but it hasn’t been just about sex for me,” she continued.
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