Fuck, if he didn’t hold me to my promise. In fact, the moment we finished cleaning up the kitchen, he grabbed me by the hem of my—er,his—shirt and pressed a quick kiss to my forehead before saying he was ready to be enlightened by monster dicks.
No pressure.
Settling in next to the Christmas tree, I pull Half-Pint into my lap, much to Lucas’s fake chagrin. My iPad powers up, and I give him one last cursory glance, waiting for any hint that this is going to send him running for the hills.
Then I open my drawing app, tap on a recent commission, and shut my eyes while it loads.
“Wait, this is really cool.” He pulls the tablet from my hands, disbelief evident in the parting of his lips and the slow shake of his head. “I said it before, and I’m gonna keep saying it until I find some rich motherfucker who has some serious pull in the art scene and I force him to hear me out even though I’m a farrier with no clue about art—you should be fucking famous.”
Burying my face in my hands, I mutter a thank you.
“Can I look at some others?”
Looking up at him with a jumble of gut-wrenching fear and an overwhelming desire to kiss him, I nibble my thumbnail. “Um…yeah, sure. Some are a little more, uh,explicitthan others.”
Time drags during his intensive study of each illustration. Anxiety creeps into the marrow of my bones, travels through my veins, and not even the wonderful compliments he gives does anything to stop it.
That is, until he gasps. “Hold on…is this… Oh, you fucking minx, you. Is this us, Eira?”
The tablet spins and I’m face-to-face with agraphicvisual of us beside a Christmas tree—something I made after meetingwith Holly for coffee on the day she asked if I’d be willing to spend Christmas here. It was simply a way of creating the daydream stuck on a loop in my head. Andobviously, I didn’t imagine Lucas would ever see it. Nobody ever gets to see the work-in-progresses I keep saved on this device.
Never mind a full-body blush, I’m burning up in hellfire right now. Eyes glassy, I stammer, “N-no, No. Oh my God.No.”
I wrench it from his hands, repeatingnountil one of us stands a chance at believing it. My frantic movements and shaky voice are enough to scare off Half-Pint.
“You’re too good at drawing to convince me that’s anybody else, baby. Besides, that’s a normal—albeitpretty—cock you drew there. Definitely not an alien dick.” Lucas sits sideways on the couch, running a palm up my bare thigh.
My insides are broiling. This must be how spontaneous combustion happens. Good way to go out, honestly.
His voice cuts through the hazy air. “Hey, please don’t feel embarrassed. That’s so fucking hot. Shit, I’m ready and willing to pay some big money to have that printed for my own bedside table.”
“This is the fucking worst.” I will myself not to cry over this, shoving the tablet under a throw pillow and looking anywhere but at him. “I can’t believe you saw that.”
“If you’d been standing at my door with that picture in your hands on the first night, I wouldn’t have slept on the couch like a gentleman, that’s for damn sure.”
My fingers squeeze the bridge of my nose so hard it’s a wonder it doesn’t break. “God, can we just move on and pretend this didn’t happen?Please?”
Cupping my chin, he pulls until my eyes meet his. “Okay, I’ll drop it. But seriously, you’re wildly talented. Thank you for the glimpse into that beautiful, bizarre penis-filled head of yours.”
Chapter fifteen
Lucas
December 25
Shortly after breakfast, Eira and I take turns using the landline for our obligatory Christmas Day calls to our parents. Plunking down on the bed with an exhale, I run a hand through my hair while waiting to be added to the family conference call.
“Merry Christmas!” Mom shouts into the phone with an ear-piercing shriek.
“Merry Christmas, everybody,” I respond, settling on top of my bed and leaning back against the pillows. Admittedly, I’m not thinking about my family right now. I’m thinking about Eira’s nails dug into the wood headboard while she rode my face after our talk in the shower last night. The way we rang in the start of Christmas curled around each other, damp from the shower, with my cock deep inside her warmth.
“We miss you here,” Mom yells, never understanding that the speakerphone can pick up her voice at a normal volume.
“Miss you guys,” Holly cheerfully sings into the phone. “Maybe next year we can all celebrate together.”
“Oh, Holls. That would make me so happy.” Mom’s hands clap together, so jarring that I reflexively yank the phone away from my ear.Christ. Is this woman sitting on top of the phone?
My mom and sisters start yapping about family drama passed on from Mom’s call with our grandparents earlier this morning. And I pick at my thumbnail, unsure of what contribution I’m bringing to this conversation, exactly. I’m here because it’s easier to tough this out than it is to deal with the wrath if I avoid them altogether. But,fuck, I’m itching for it to end so I can get back downstairs to Eira.
