by Noelle Adams
That means we have Christmas day all to ourselves. No required visits. No schedule. No pressure.
I’m as excited about the day as I used to be as a kid, waking up at the crack of dawn in eagerness to see what Santa had brought me that year.
I alternate between dozing and thinking happy thoughts for about an hour until Jeremy starts to shift beside me. I roll over onto my side so I can see him as he wakes up.
He smiles before he even opens his eyes. “Are you staring at me while I sleep?”
“I knew you were waking up.”
“I haven’t even gotten my eyes open yet.”
“Well, I knew you were waking up anyway. And since you somehow knew I was staring at you, I don’t think you have any legit claim to be asleep.”
He opens his eyes halfway and grins at me endearingly.
I scoot over to cuddle, pleased when he wraps his arms around me.
“How long have you been awake?” He rubs my back, and when he discovers that my tank top is riding up high, he slips his hand beneath it so he can feel my bare skin.
“About an hour. On and off.”
“And what have you been thinking about for that hour?”
“About Christmas mostly. And what we should do today.”
“So what have you concluded about the day’s agenda?”
I smile at his dry tone and rub my cheek against the undershirt he’s wearing. When we don’t have sex before bed, he sleeps in boxers and an undershirt. When we do have sex, he usually doesn’t bother with the shirt. We got in late last night, so we both just fell into bed and went to sleep. “Well, I thought we could make waffles this morning with the new waffle iron mom gave me.”
“Sounds like a good plan. Then what?”
“Then we can take Leo to the park so he gets a treat for Christmas. Then we can open presents.”
“You really think I got you anything?”
I give him a fake scowl. “Well, I thought maybe you did. Not that you need to, after you gave me all those lovely Secret Santa gifts.”
“That was different. That wasn’t really for Christmas. That was just because...”
I peer up at him curiously. “Because why?”
He makes a face. “Because I love you. And when I planned them out, I had no way of expressing how much I love you. I didn’t think... I wasn’t planning to make a move on you. I just wanted some way of showing you I loved you the way I do—even if you didn’t know it was me.”
“So were you planning to tell me the gifts were from you?”
He shakes his head. “I really wasn’t. I thought there was a chance you would guess. And if you did, I thought maybe I’d use that opportunity to try to say something. But I don’t think you know how paralyzed I was by the whole thing. This desperate need to tell you and this desperate fear that it would tear us apart.”
I rub against him, kissing him three or four times on the base of his neck. “Well, it didn’t.”
“No. It didn’t. If there was ever a Christmas miracle, it’s that.”
I giggle as I squeeze him. “See. I knew I’d eventually teach you how to be a Christmas person.”
“If you say so.”
I’m about to kiss him again when I think better of it. “I need to pee real quick. And do you want some coffee?”
“Coffee sounds good to me.”
It’s cool in the house, so I slide my feet into slippers and put on the top of my soft flannel pajama set (red-and-green plaid for Christmas) before I go to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee and let Leo out since the dog woke up raring to go as soon as my feet hit the floor. While the coffee brews, I go to the bathroom, brushing my teeth while I’m there. My hair is messy, but I can’t be bothered about that.
I return to bed with two mugs, just as Jeremy is returning from the bathroom, and we prop up on the pillows to drink our coffee. We talk about what to put on our waffles and what Christmas movie we should watch that afternoon and try to guess each other’s Christmas presents. Leo is excited about returning to bed after his trip outside, and he curls up into a ball near our feet and starts to snore.
I’m perfectly content when I finish my cup. I set the mug down on my nightstand and smile over at Jeremy, who looks rumpled and sleepy and sexy.
He smiles back. “You ready for waffles now or were you thinking something else.”
I push down the covers and crawl toward him. “Something else. Then waffles.”
“Sounds like a reasonable plan to me.” He takes me by the hips and pulls me over on top of him so he can kiss me deeply. He tastes like coffee. I’m sure I do too.
After a minute or two, he breaks the kiss so he can trail his mouth down my jaw and throat.
“You know what?” I ask, dropping my head backward to give him better access.
“What?” He uses his teeth to nip a tender spot in the crook of my neck, and it makes me squeal with pleasure and surprise.
“I’ve never had sex on Christmas before.”
“Really? Never?”
“Nope. Never. When I was younger, I was always visiting my family, and that didn’t lend itself to a sexy day. And in the past few years, I’ve never been dating anyone at Christmas. So this will be my first time.”
He grabs hold of my hips and flips us over in a quick move. I squeal again as I end up on my back with him on top of me.
I’m laughing and gasping and dragging my fingernails down his back as he kisses me all over and takes off my pajamas. Even after I’m naked and aroused, he keeps teasing and fondling me, moving between my lips, my neck, my breasts, and my belly. He never moves all the way down where I want him, even though I give him as much encouragement as I can—which includes begging and trying to push his head lower down my body.
He’s doing it on purpose. I know he is. I see the pleased, possessive glint in his eyes as I get more and more turned on.
I’m just on the edge of wailing when he finally kisses his way down my belly until he’s nudging between my legs.
“Yes,” I hiss. “Yes, sweetie, please.” I have no idea why I call him that. I’m not a pet name sort of person. But I guess I’m in such a state that it just comes out.
He’s grinning—with some mysterious combination of cockiness and tenderness—as he uses his fingers, tongue, and lips to take me to the edge of orgasm, holding it for a while before he lets me fall over the edge.
I’m sobbing messily in pleasure and relief as I come, and the orgasm goes on for a long time. Much longer than I thought they were supposed to last. He strokes me through the spasms and gives me one last kiss before he raises his head and wipes the damp bottom of his face.
“Thank you,” I manage to gasp. “You must have studied up on that particular skill over the years because you are definitely an expert.”
“Really?” He’s pleased and surprised both as he climbs up my body to kiss my mouth.
I can taste myself on his lips, and it’s strangely sensual. “Yes, really. Thank you for doing it.”
“You already thanked me once. You know how I feel about too many thank-yous. You think I didn’t enjoy it too? You think it doesn’t blow the top of my head off to realize I can make you feel good like that?” He straightens up to pull off his boxers and undershirt before he moves over me again.
I wrap my arms around him as he settles between my legs. “Well, in my experience, a lot of guys are more focused on getting pleasure than giving it.”
“A lot of guys are dicks.”
“But not you.”
“I hope not.” He leans down to kiss me, the weight of his body pressing into me deliciously. “I hope I wouldn’t act that way anyway, but regardless it sure seems like a bad strategy to be selfish in bed. The more the other person enjoys it, the more enthusiastic they’ll be for repeat performances. Just common sense.”
I laugh and pull him down into another kiss. “I like that kind of common sense. And since you were so generous before, you get to pick our position. How do you wa
nt me?”
Jeremy pauses for a moment before I see a possessive gleam in his eyes. “I want you on your hands and knees.” He pauses. “If that’s okay with you.”
I turn over with a giggle, still tingly and aroused from our earlier activities. He moves my body until it’s the way he wants it, and then he parts my legs enough to enter me from behind. I’ve actually never been a big fan of doggy style in the past. It always felt kind of embarrassing and undignified. But I don’t feel that way with Jeremy. With him, I feel valued, appreciated, taken care of, so I’m relaxed and excited as he starts to thrust against my bottom.
The friction and the jiggling of my body as he works up to a vigorous rhythm really works for me. I come and then come again before he lets himself go.
I can’t help laughing at him afterward as he collapses back on the bed in a heap of sated pride. He pulls me over on top of him, and we lie together in a hot, tired embrace.
“So that was sex on Christmas,” I mumble against his bare chest.
“It was definitely a merry Christmas in my estimation.”
“And we get to make waffles soon, just as soon as we recover.”
“Good thing since I’m getting hungry.”
“Me too.”
He nuzzles my messy hair. “I love you, May.”
“I love you too.”
“I can’t believe I actually get to have you this way.”
“Well, believe it. It’s not going away. And I’ve got you too, so it’s a fair trade.”
“It feels more like a miracle than a fair trade.”
I raise my head and meet his eyes. “Listen to me, Jeremy. I’ve got you too. That’s just as much a miracle to me.”
My words mean something to him. I see a flicker of emotion tighten on his face before he smiles. “You have me forever.”
“I better. Because I’m telling you right now that I’m going to want you forever. It took more than twelve years for me to figure this out. I’m not going to let you go now that I have. So get ready for decades of Christmases with me, complete with sex and waffles and sappy holiday movies. And Leo.”
“And maybe some kids?” he asks in a soft voice that’s light but not really casual.
My reaction is supposed to be a giggle, but it comes out with tears instead. “Definitely some kids. After all, Leo will need some company when he gets old and grouchy.”
Hearing his name, the dog lifts his head and gives us a grumpy, questioning glare for disturbing his nap. On seeing no activity worth stirring himself for, he goes back to sleep.
It’s a while before the three of us get out of bed for what might be the best Christmas of my life.
Epilogue
ON A HOT, HUMID EVENING in early August, I have to stay on campus late for an orientation event for incoming local adult students.
We’ve found that, while older students don’t want the full orientation activities that eighteen-year-olds get, a lot of them like to come to campus before classes begin to tour campus, get information on resources, and see some of the faculty and staff face-to-face. So we offer two of these orientation workshops on summer evenings, and I always have to attend to give information on student clubs and activities they might want to get involved in.
This is the first one this summer, and attendance is better than I expected. I give my eight-minute introduction to student life and then have to sit around listening to the rest of the presentations.
It’s not the way I’d choose to spend an evening, but it’s an unavoidable part of my job. I use the time discreetly playing on my phone (making sure to look up to nod or smile every couple of minutes so it’s not obvious I’m utterly bored), and I’m relieved when the ninety minutes is over and I’m allowed to leave.
As soon as I step outside the building, I start to sweat. I’m wearing a loose sleeveless dress, but it starts to stick to my skin as I walk. It’s almost eight in the evening, and I haven’t yet eaten dinner. I’m hot and tired and hungry and ready to get home to Jeremy and Leo.
Despite my bad mood, I perk up when I see Beck and Katrina chatting outside on the sidewalk. They both attended the orientation session too—Katrina giving the introduction to the library and Beck acting as the representative of the faculty. I’m heading over to say hello to them when Katrina gives a little squeal and hugs Beck hard.
“What’s going on?” I ask as I reach them. “Is there some good news I need to know about?”
Beck turns to me, all smiles and dimples and flushed cheeks. “I’m pregnant.”
I give a repeat of Katrina’s response, squealing in excitement and hugging Beck in my joy at her news.
When she pulls away, she’s giggling. “I’m more than three months along now.”
“I didn’t even know you and Evan were trying.”
“Well, we weren’t really trying. I mean, we’d only just stopped with the birth control and...” Beck shrugs. “But we’re happy. We’re really happy. And I’m particularly happy that the morning sickness is finally getting better.”
I wipe some perspiration off my face. “And at least you won’t have to go through the last trimester in this heat.” I look from Beck to Katrina. “Are you and Max thinking in the baby direction?”
Katrina’s pretty face twists with a little smile. “Maybe. We haven’t decided yet. At this point, the wedding is all I can think about. It’s just three weeks away.”
“What about you?” Beck asks, her blue eyes focused on me almost teasingly. “Any babies or weddings in the works for you and Jeremy?”
I roll my eyes. “Not yet. We’ll get there. We both want it. But for the past six months, we’ve just been enjoying being a couple. It took us twelve years to get here, and we don’t want to rush through this stage. I’m not in a hurry.”
“But you’ll say yes if he asks you?” Katrina’s expression sparkles at me.
“Yes, of course I’ll say yes. I’m crazy in love with him. I’ve never been in love before, and it’s not going away.” I narrow my eyes at the two of them. “But there’s no rush. So no making little hints or putting Jeremy on the spot. He’ll move things forward when he’s ready.”
We laugh and share a couple more hugs over the good news, and then I start walking toward my car. I gave up my apartment last month and moved in with Jeremy and Leo since I was spending the night at their place nearly every night anyway. The house is about a mile from campus, so sometimes I walk, but I didn’t tonight because I didn’t want to show up at the orientation soaked in sweat.
I’m parking my car in the driveway a few minutes later with that happy sense of homecoming. As soon as I step in the front door, however, I frown.
“Why is it so cold in here?” I call out, slipping off my sandals and pulling my phone out of my bag before I leave it on the entryway table.
It’s way too cold in the house. Jeremy and I wage an ongoing battle about how to set the thermostat in the summer, him preferring it five degrees colder than me. Sadly, Leo is on his side of this particular conflict. When I set the air conditioner the way I like it, the dog sits and pants at me with mournful eyes over the oppressive heat I insist on tormenting him with.
But this evening it’s far cooler than even Jeremy likes to set the temperature. I shiver as I turn the corner into the living room. “It’s freezing! What’s going on?”
I jerk to a startled halt as soon as I see the living room. I blink several times, wondering if I’m having some sort of weird déjà vu vision that’s taken me out of space and time.
The living room is decorated for Christmas. There’s a fire burning in the fireplace. There’s a fully decorated Christmas tree complete with multicolored lights and a glowing star at the top. There’s garland, stockings, and twinkly lights on the mantle. There’s Christmas music playing. Leo is running back and forth between me and Jeremy wearing a soft red velvet collar set off by jingle bells.
And Jeremy is standing in front of the fire, wearing a bright red Christmas sweater with a big t
acky Rudolph on the front.
My mouth falls open. My eyes widen dramatically. I try to say something but can’t.
Leo is so excited that he jumps up with his front paws on my thighs, so I lean over to scratch his ears and ease him back to the floor.
When I look up again, Jeremy is still standing there, a half smile on his lips that’s both dry and tender.
“What... what... what?” That’s the extent of my articulating ability. I’m starting to shake, excitement and joy and expectation and hope rising inside me inexorably.
Jeremy licks his lips and opens his mouth to say something. Then he drops his eyes and tries it again. “I... have something for you.” He nods toward the floor under the Christmas tree.
There’s only one present there. I didn’t even notice it before because it’s such a small box. It’s wrapped in lovely green-and-silver paper.
I know what size the box is. I almost choke on tears that swell in an overwhelming rush.
“Don’t cry before you open it,” Jeremy whispers, his mouth turning up in another little smile, this one more happy than ironic.
“Is this...?” I have to clear my throat and start again. “Is this really happening?”
“Yes. It’s happening.” He leans down to pick up the box from beneath the Christmas tree. “You can cry first if you need to. But when you’re ready, I’d like for you to open this present.”
I take the box with trembling fingers. My eyes are blurred with tears, so I have to wipe them away before I clumsily tear off the wrapping paper to reveal a small jeweler’s box.
I hold it, shuddering helplessly. My ragged breathing is loud so I can hear it above the sound of the Christmas music.
Jeremy waits until I finally find the coordination to open the lid of the box.
There’s a ring inside. A gold ring with a lovely round diamond in a star-shaped setting. I’ve never seen a ring like this before. It’s gorgeous. Unique.
Perfect.
I start to bawl.
Jeremy makes a sound in his throat and pulls me into a hug, letting me sob into his Rudolph sweater. But after a minute, he murmurs, “Can you at least confirm that these are good tears and not bad tears so I don’t have a nervous breakdown?”
