She pointed at the spot in front of her feet, so that’s where I went, and then she took my hand and tugged so that I was on my knees in front of her. She was short enough that even kneeling, we were eye to eye.
“I’m glad you told me all of that,” she said. “Thank you.”
I looked down at where her hand still held mine. “It’s the least of what I owe you.”
“Well, I’m still mad,” she said, in a very Sunny way. And then she added, “And I’m still in love with you.”
I lifted my eyes to hers in shock. Yes, I had hoped—but then I’d killed that hope and skinned it and wore its fur as a hat, just like Sunny was going to do to an innocent squirrel. I didn’t want hope to be the reason I apologized or offered her my own love. I didn’t want to repeat the fuck-buddies mistake, where affection and respect functioned only as a quid pro quo.
She cupped my face with her free hand. “Yes, you silly, mopey asshole, I still love you. And the odds are very high that I’ll get un-mad with you soon.”
My heart was crashing against the inside of my rib cage, and my throat ached and ached. Tears streaked warmly down my face. “Really?” I whispered.
She nodded and leaned closer. “Really.”
Our noses brushed; I could feel her breath on my lips. “Is there anything I can do to make you un-mad faster?”
“Just one of the things you’re best at.” And then her mouth was on mine, so soft, so hot, everything tasting faintly of salt and tears. I found her shoulders with my hands, and then her neck, and then slid my hands into the thick silk of her hair. And I couldn’t keep the kiss cautious for much longer than that. Having her here, knowing she loved me, that she was willing to entertain forgiveness even if we weren’t there yet—the responsewas a surge of my soul and my body at the same time. I parted her lips and sought her tongue, holding her head and wedging my hips between her thighs at the same time. She gave a moan that made my skin hurt.
I found the seam of her jeans and pressed in with the heel of my palm. “What about something else I’m best at?” I asked into our kiss. “Will that help?”
“Ye-e-s,” she moaned as I pressed again. “I think it will help a lot. You should definitely do more of that.”
I didn’t rush pulling off her boots and socks and then her jeans, but I couldn’t make myself go as slowly as I wanted to. I wanted to sear every second of this into my mind, I wanted to remember the glow of firelight on her naked, dimpled thighs forever, but I was out of my mind with needing this. It had been far, far too long.
But once I had peeled off her panties to expose the wet seam of her cunt, suddenly all I wanted to do was stare. Gaze. Adore. I trailed a thumb over her labia until I found the swell of her clitoris, but I didn’t play with it. I just traced and mapped and looked, until Sunny said, “Isaac, what’s on my sweater?”
I raised my gaze and saw the wordslet’s make outon her sweater, and below that, a knitted picture of some mistletoe.
“You’re supposed to kiss below the mistletoe,” she said, and I laughed.
“I’d never ignore such an important tradition.” And then I leaned in and kissed below the mistletoe, just like she’d commanded me to.
Blitzen called the house phone to let us know she was staying at the North Pole for the night, despite her earlier braggadocio about her truck. “Also, I would never actually have a house phone,” she said before she hung up. “It’s just something my landlord, Ronald, has. I need you to know that about me.”
“Ronald . . .” Sunny said. “Ronald Dugan?”
“Ronald Paquette,” Blitzen corrected. “He’s the town trolley driver. He inherited the cabin from his parents when they moved out to Duck’s Crossing. Mrs.Paquette refuses to live in a place without a walk-in shower—natch—so he rents it out instead.”
After we hung up the phone, Sunny and I stared at each other. “The trolley driver is Bernice and James’s son,” Sunny finally said. “What the fuck.”
“Can you imagine how much time we would have saved if he’d been in the visitor’s center that first day?”
Sunny, who was only in panties right now, gestured vaguely in the direction of her recently eaten pussy. “On balance, I’m glad he wasn’t.”
My eyes dropped to her pussy too. “Do you think Blitzen will mind that I made you come on her couch?”
“I think she’d be insulted as a hostess if you didn’t.”
After that, there was nothing left to do but make a nest of blankets in front of the fire, throw on a few more logs, and take advantage of Blitzen’s hospitality to the fullest, until Sunny’s voice was hoarse from moaning, and we both fell asleep under a heap of quilts, naked and happy.
And when I opened my eyes, I saw Sunny watching me, her fingers playing with my hair. The fire was out and the ashes were cold, and a bright glow came in through the window, the kind of glow that comes only from sunlight against the snow.
“Merry Christmas,” she whispered.
“Merry Christmas,” I whispered back.
And even without the fire, we found a way to keep warm until the tow truck came to the cabin.
