“Eyes on me,” he grunts. His hands guide my hips, slow at first, until our rhythm makes him curse. Greedy fingers dig into my thighs, demanding more. My confidence grows. And I’m bouncing up and down as if my life depends on it.
All that matters now is him, me, and what we’re chasing. The high. The sound of warm wet flesh on flesh, ragged breaths, and moans we don’t bother to hide.
“Keep going,” he orders, as the pressure inside me breaks. I cry out. He holds on tighter. “It’s my turn.”
I move again, matching him thrust for thrust. His body tenses beneath mine, and I push him harder until he lets out a low guttural sound from somewhere deep in his chest. We both collapse onto the mattress.
After, we lie tangled, his arm around my shoulders as I play with the dark hair on his chest.
“Thank you,” I tell him, softly, “for making tonight so special.”
His eyebrows knit together.
“You’re my first time since…” I trail off, embarrassed. “You’re the first person I’ve slept with since my husband left me.” He doesn’t speak, just kisses my forehead and squeezes a bit tighter.
“Merry Christmas,” he says. “I’ve got a little something for you.”
He disentangles himself from me, slides out of bed and lifts his jeans off the floor. He pulls a folded piece of paper from the back pocket and passes it to me.
“What is it?”
“Open it, and you’ll find out.”
It’s a simple note written in plain black ink.
4th Jan 2022 – I’ll pick you up at 8 a.m. Bring your bikini.
“Thailand,” he says, “it’s booked.”
“But,” I stammer, “the dogs, the apartment. We’re not even dating.”
He lifts the duvet and returns to my side, wrapping me in his arms.
“Amy,” he says, “please come with me. Let’s enjoy spending time together. I’ll sort someone to look after the dogs and here.” He waves his hand around, signaling the room. “You were with me when I bought it; I want you to enjoy the vacation with me. We can figure out the details later.”
He looks at me with what I think was hope. Ivan Harley is known for breaking women’s hearts. I’ve gone further than I ever planned to. I’m falling for him. And that terrifies me.
“I don’t know,” I mumble, and his face falls. “Let me think about it, please.” He takes my hand and kisses my knuckles.
“Of course,” he says. “You have until eight in the morning on January fourth to decide. I won’t be taking anyone else.”
My heart stutters, betraying me. I want this.
He disappears below the covers. “Now, what can I do to convince you to say yes?”
***
“Kids, has anyone seen Aunt Amy?” Ben asks as he passes me the brussel sprouts across the table. “Because this woman here certainly isn’t her. File a missing person report.” They all chuckle at their father. Four sets of teenage eyes land on me.
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“Language,” he scolds. “Not in front of the children.” He waggles his eyebrows. “It means,” he pauses, “you look like you’ve had an enjoyable Christmas so far.”
His gaze flicks to the bruise on my neck, which I tried and failed to hide. The purple welt bleeds through the beige concealer as subtle as a neon sign.
“Fuck off,” I mouth at him. “Can we change the subject, please?”
“Aunt Amy,” my nephew Liam interjects, and I look at him. A cheeky smile spreads across his face. “Did it hurt when your boyfriend bit you on the neck?”
