I try to hide it, but my smile breaks free. “Me too.”
Her gaze collides with mine, and for a brief moment, before we remember we aren’t the only people in the room, my heart feels safe under her consideration.
Krystal
By the time we get back to the cabin, I can barely walk in a straight line. I’m not the only one; it seems we’ve all had a bit too much to drink. Gayle offers to put something together to help soak up the champagne, to Jiraiaya’s disapproval. I’d left to use the bathroom, and upon my return, I see Nick’s left a place for me next to him. My cheeks burn. The question he asked earlier floats in the back of my mind. I didn’t think it was appropriate to tilt my head back and scream, “Yes, I want this to last forever and ever!” In the middle of the party, so I didn’t.
Tomorrow, we’ll discuss what ‘after Christmas’ would look like for both of us. Tonight, I’ll let my body do the talking. Instead of taking the seat beside him, I sit in his lap, draping my arms around his body.
Gayle and Jiraiya return with two hastily made charcuterie boards. An array of breads, fruit, and jams sits haphazardly on the two large trays. She reaches under the cabinet, exposing the storage of dinnerware, which I don’t think they intend for guests to know about. We don’t feel so much like a group of random guests anymore, though. We feel a bit like family.
“Please, dig in,” she says before leaving.
“Come on,” Nick mentions, his deep voice wraps around me, squeezing all the places I want to feel his touch. He assembles both of our plates as I stand behind him with my arms wrapped around his middle. I imagine how ridiculous I must look with the feet of my pants sweeping the floor, attaching myself to Nick’s large body — I don’t care.
When we return to our place at the table, I pop a cherry in my mouth and ask, “Are you leaving on Christmas Eve or the day after?”
“Christmas Eve, after the brunch,” he answers.
My answer is the same, but my heart still drops.
Silence covers us as we finish our small plates. When doubts about whether or not he wants this as much as I do creep into my mind, I remind myself that he wants what I want. My eyes drift up to his as I take a bite out of the last crostini slice on my saucer. He’s staring at his empty plate with a solemn expression on his face.
“You alright?” I ask.
A gentle smile graces his face when he looks over at me. “Seems to be the case when you’re next to me,” he says.
It feels like all the air is stolen from my lungs, and I have to look away to breathe again.
We let the silence marinate, even as we walk hand in hand to his room.
Sweet relief floods me when I strip tonight’s outfit from my body.
“Fuck,” Nick mumbles, “you’re so gorgeous.”
My cheeks heat, and the awareness of his eyes lingering on my body makes me want to hide. As if he hasn’t seen me like thisfor the past week and a half. As if I won’t bask in his attention for as long as he’d like to give it to me.
He steps toward me, eyes stuck on mine even though all I’m wearing is a thong. His hands barely touch my heated skin as he skates them up my sides. They cup my breasts, teasing my nipples. His mouth is wet when we kiss, like he was salivating at the idea of touching me. The thought heightens my arousal, and my needy moan rings across the room.
He pulls away, his chest heaving as he assesses me. “We don’t have to tonight, if you’re drunk.”
“I’m not drunk anymore,” I say, wrapping my arms around my shoulder.
“You sure?” He confirms.
I want to be annoyed by his delay, but how can I? I roll on to the tips of my toes and press a soft kiss on his lips. “Promise.”
He peels the sweater over his head, tossing it on the ground before cupping my face and kissing me deeply. The warmth of his body seeps into me, and my nipples feather his skin. Goosebumps cover my body, chased away by the heat of our connection.
He pulls his wallet out of his pants, checking the pockets. “Shit,” he mutters, kisses my cheek. “Give me a second.”
While he rummages through his duffel, the old school camcorder in his camera bag catches my attention, calling me like a light in the night. I walk over, not fighting the temptation that guides me.
I press the little button on the side and a compartment flips out, ejecting a tape. A devious smile blooms on my lips. When I turn to face him, his smile mirrors mine as he leans against the dresser, looking like a dream with his shirt off.
“Does this work?” I ask, my voice hushed.
“It does,” he hums, slapping the condom against his palm as he holds my gaze. The energy in the room crackles.
