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Nathan POV
______________________________________
Anastasia’s Holiday Playlist
1. Christmas Tree Farm (Old Timey Version) — Taylor Swift
2. All I Want For Christmas Is You — Mariah Carey
3. 8 Days of Christmas — Destiny’s Child
4. My Only Wish (This Year) — Britney Spears
5. Last Christmas — Wham!
6. Santa Claus Is Comin’ To Town — Glee Cast
7. Santa Tell Me — Ariana Grande
8. One I’ve Been Missing — Little Mix
9. Mistletoe — Justin Bieber
10. Underneath The Tree — Kelly Clarkson
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Nathan
I glare at the creepy-looking toy elf sitting in the middle of what can only be described as a shit ton of toothpaste with my tooth-brush taped to its tiny little hand.
Breaking eye contact, I opt to stare at the ceiling and groan in-stead. I fear if I look at it for too long it’ll blink, and my life will be-come one of those festive horror movies. Twenty-four days I’ve been terrorized by that annoying hunk of plastic, but tonight it’s all over. Tomorrow is Christmas Day, and my merry nemesis gets to go back in his box until next year.
A box I plan to lose along with all the other crap we’ve accumulated in the past month.
My house has smelled like peppermint since the twenty-ninth of November and my child quotes The Grinch daily. She’s even started calling Bunny “Max,” and he’s very confused by the whole situation.
I think it was becoming a mom that turned Stassie into Mrs. Claus, but I can’t be certain. I mean, she’s asked me to quit hockey six times so we can take Mila to the North Pole next December, so I’m sort of certain. I had to confiscate her laptop when she started googling how well golden retrievers cope in snow.
I can hear Elf blasting from the TV as I make my way down the stairs toward what is undoubtedly my first of many rewatches today.
After I got home late from my game last night, Stassie promised me I could sleep in, and she’d get up with Mila. Something I now realize was a trap to get access to my toothbrush and the TV before me.
One night months ago and after far too much whiskey, I casually said we should host Christmas since the stars aligned and we would all be on the West Coast. I thought nobody would remember, or it would be one of those things that gets agreed to but never comes to fruition.
I was wrong.
My wife is cutting her millionth batch of cookies in the kitchen when I push the door open. I hover in the doorway and cast a glance toward the living room, where my child appears to be, yep, decorating the dog in tinsel. “Moo, leave Bunny alone, please.”
“Not doing anything!” she calls back, not bothering to work out where I am as she places the halo headband behind his ears.
“Okay, but little girls who tell lies end up on Santa’s naughty list.”
Mila freezes, taking a long look at Bunny before making the calculated decision to move the halo to her own head. She grabs her juice box and sits beside him, leaning against the golden retriever’s side as they watch Elf together.
“When did you become the fun police?” Stassie asks as I walk over to where she’s working.
“She’s decorating the dog.”
“I know. I can see her.” Stassie nods toward the nanny cam on the counter in front of her. “I had to stop her from taking the lights off the Christmas tree.”
“And how did that go for you?” I ask, kissing her temple and wrapping my arms around her waist as she moves the cookie shapes to a baking sheet.
“Well, I won technically, but it wasn’t easy. That child is either going to run the country or a large crime syndicate when she’s old enough.” She snaps off a corner of one of the cookies she’s taken out of the oven and feeds it to me over her shoulder. “She said she wanted to make him look like the Rockingfellow Christmas tree.”
“Regretting letting her watch Home Alone 2 yet?” She shoos me off her as she takes a full tray and puts it in the oven. “What did you bribe her with?”
“Nathan, I do not have to bribe my daughter to get her to listen to me.” I don’t say anything. I simply lean against the kitchen counter and watch her roll out a new batch of cookie dough. She’s concentrating really hard and I know if I’m quiet long enough, she won’t be able to he— “Okay, maybe I let her have ice cream with her breakfast.
It’s basically Christmas. It isn’t illegal.”
“So when I let her have ice cream for breakfast it’s bad, but when you let her have ice cream for breakfast it isn’t illegal. Did I get that right?” I’m trying to fight the grin I know is going to look smug be-cause she still has a rolling pin in her hands. “I just want to be sure I didn’t mishear you.”
“You do not get to sass me when a million people are about to descend on us and it’s all your fault.”
She’s got me there. “When are they arriving?”
“JJ and Alex will be here literally any second. Russ, Henry, and the girls will be here in about an hour. Robbie and the guys like maybe two hours, they said. My mom and dad said they’d come in the morning instead when I told them my schedule had gone up in smoke. Sasha’s flight lands in four hours and Lo said she’ll get her from the airport.”
“Is there anything extra you’d like to put on my preapproved to-do list?” I ask carefully, noticing the familiar flustered expression on her face. “I’ll do anything that makes your life easier.”
The doorbell rings and Bunny immediately starts barking. Anastasia shakes her head. “No. Just keep everybody entertained and everything will be perfect.”
I give her one last kiss and head toward the door, where Mila and Bunny are patiently waiting to see who’s on the other side of it.
“Ho ho ho, Christmas is here!” JJ shouts as I pull back the door. He’s in a full Santa outfit and Mila’s squeal is so high-pitched I question if she’s part dolphin. Alex is close behind him wearing a reindeer onesie and looking significantly less terrifying.
Mila immediately runs screaming in the direction of the kitchen and Bunny follows his best friend. I look JJ up and down. “You don’t even celebrate Christmas.”
“It’s called being a multi-faith household, Nathaniel. Jeez, look it up!” He hugs me tight then struts past me toward the kitchen, leaving Alex to roll their eyes.
“He bought that outfit before you even invited us over,” they say, hugging me too. “And he specifically bought Moo the loudest toys in the store. I’m just pleading innocent now.”
“Excellent. I’m so excited for tomorrow,” I say, grimacing.
We head into the kitchen, where we find JJ with Mila on his hip and a cookie in his spare hand. He nods toward the defrosting turkey. “Who’s in charge?”
“I am,” I say, accepting Mila’s outstretched arms as she plays her favorite game of human pass the parcel between everyone.
JJ’s eyebrows pinch together as he eyes me suspiciously. “Do you even know where the seasonings are kept?”
“No, I was just going to boil everything in water and hope for the best.” I roll my eyes. “Yes, I know where the fu—uuudging seasonings are kept.”
“Hmmm. I’ll be watching you,” he says. “Moo, your daddy tells me you love getting all your toys out and spreading them across the living room and then not cleaning them up. Why don’t you show me how that works?”
Mila leans across to go to JJ again. “Okay, Santa. But you’re not allowed to let Bunny eat anything, otherwise he does weird poops.”
Anastasia waits for them to leave the room before looking at Alex and me. “She knows it’s JJ, right?” She turns up the nanny cam speaker and we hear Mila introducing Santa formally to Bunny and giving him a tour of the living room.
Alex muffles a laugh with their hand. “Oh my goodness, my heart.”
“I don’t know why you’re laughing. If she thinks you’re a real reindeer she’s going to make you shit outside,” I say with a snort.
My house is now the loudest it’s been in a long time.
Russ and Aurora brought their two dogs, Tuna and Flounder, who happen to be Bunny’s siblings, and Mila is ecstatic. She immediately asked JJ if she was getting new dogs for Christmas. He shot me a panicked look before making an exit to get changed into some-thing with less responsibility.
When I walk into the kitchen to refresh people’s drinks I clock Henry resting his head against his girlfriend’s stomach while she rubs hard circles on his neck with her thumbs. “Volume?” I ask, get-ting a grunt back that sounds a lot like yes. “Moo will settle down soon, kiddo. She’s just excited. You need me to get you some earplugs or something?”
“No. I just have a headache from listening to Aurora sing Destiny’s Child Christmas songs the whole way here. Hey, who’s cooking the turkey?”
“I am. Why does everyone keep asking? It’s the first thing Robbie and Joe asked. And JJ!”
Henry looks unimpressed. “You’re going to season it, right?”
“I’m gonna give you the weird vegan fake turkey thing I got for Rory and Alex if you keep it up. Yes, I’m going to season it.” His mouth opens to speak. “And yes, I know where the spices are kept. Smart-ass.”
“DADDY!”
“Yeah, honey?”
“Is it time to watch Grinchy yet?”
I sigh heavily as the tiny leader who runs my household barges into the kitchen with three golden retrievers tailing her. She immediately spots her aunt and uncle and puts her hands on her hips. Anastasia questions where Mila learned the gesture, usually as she watches with her hands on her own hips. “You have to watch the movie with me. It’s Christmas.”
It’s Christmas. Something else she’s learned from her mother this month as a method to get her own way. “Do you promise to be quiet while we watch it?” Henry asks her.
Mila shakes her head. “No.”
“Moo, you’ve watched The Grinch so many times this week. Why don’t you watch something else? What about The Muppet Christmas Carol?”
She shakes her head again, her face moving in a way that is exactly like looking at her mother. “No. Come on, everyone.”
Henry groans as he stands from his chair and lets himself be guided into the living room. I follow Mila dragging two grown adults with ease and take the spot on the couch next to my wife as our daughter bosses around everyone else.
“She gets the bossiness from you, y’know,” I whisper to Stas, pecking her cheek.
“She’s assertive.” Anastasia holds out her arms, but instead of running to her mom, Mila surveys the room full of her aunts and uncles, carefully deciding who she wants to sit with. When she throws herself at Robbie, Anastasia huffs. “She’s rude.”
I count the amount of people sitting on the huge L-shaped sofa between Robbie and us. “By my calculations, she’ll be on our side of the room before the mayor’s head gets shaved.”
“Daddy,” Mila yells, pointing to the remote in my hand. “Grinchy!” Anastasia clears her throat and Mila giggles. “Please.”
The front door opens as Anthony Hopkins’s voice echoes around the now quiet living room, and Sasha and Lola immediately fill the living room doorway. Lola holds up a bottle of wine in each hand. “Season’s greetings. Have we already checked who’s cooking the tur-key?”
The entire room shushes her. Mila climbs off Robbie’s knee to move to Joe’s beside him and peers over the back of the couch. “The Grinch, Auntie Lo. Shh.”
Sasha takes one of the bottles of wine from Lola and finds a spot next to Alex. “You’ve been called worse things, Lola.”
Lola walks around the couch and squishes herself into the tiny spot beside Stassie, handing her the wine bottle. “One day when you’re older, Moo, I’m going to tell you a really fun story about your mommy in college and someone dressed as the Grinch.”
I slowly turn to my wife, whose cheeks are ten times rosier than they were a minute ago. She gives me the smile she offers when she’s scraped her car along a curb. “Merry Christmas, bub?”
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Barnes & Noble Exclusive
Aurora POV
“Oh my fucking life,” Russ yells, covering his heart with his hand dramatically, as he opens his bedroom door and spots me sit-ting cross-legged on his bed. “You scared the shit out of me.”
Henry peaks over his shoulder, eyes rolling when he realizes I’m the source of the surprise. “Breaking and entering is a crime, Au-rora.”
“But I didn’t break anything! I’m trespassing at best,” I argue. Henry disappears from sight as he heads toward his room, but I defi-nitely hear a snort when I shout, “If anything, you should be thank-ing me for highlighting an issue with your security!”
The little creases beside Russ’s eyes appear as he beams at me. He steps into the room, closing the door gently and throwing his sports bag on the floor beside the wardrobe. Dropping onto his side next to me, he pulls me onto my back as he sprawls across the mattress.
His heavy arm drapes across my stomach, gripping my waist to drag my body closer to his. “Hello,” he says softly, kissing the tip of my nose.
“Hi.”
“Are you going to tell me how you got in?” My eyes flutter closed as he presses his lips to each of my eyelids, followed by my temples, cheeks, until he eventually reaches my mouth. “Mhmm?”
“No,” I murmur as his lips gently brush mine. “Use your imagi-nation.”
I like the idea of Russ thinking I’m some kind of elite master-mind. He doesn’t need to know that there’s a key under the hockey gnome in the garden from when Stassie and Lola lived here.
“If I don’t get to know how you’re here, can I at least know why you’re here?” He rolls onto his back, pulling me on top of him. Tuck-ing my hair behind each of my ears, his hands rest on my neck while he leans forward to kiss me again. “I’m very happy about it, but you’re supposed to be in class.”
I am supposed to be in class but Halle, my classmate, promised she would take notes for me. Being truthful, Halle’s notes on her worst day are still more comprehensive than mine on my best day. But it’s hard to feel guilty about skipping class when my favorite part of our relationship is the fact that I believe him.
I believe when he says he’s glad I’m here. He’s told me that pretty much every day since we came home from Honey Acres. Every single time he says it, every single time he touches me, and looks at me like I’m the most precious thing in the world to him, I believe him.
He makes me feel so valued and wanted that it’s a miracle I ever stay in my own house. I’ve become one of those girls who is obsessed with their boyfriends, and I’m not even sorry. Who wouldn’t be ob-sessed with him?
“I skipped because I wanted to see you and spend time with you before the game,” I admit honestly. “I want to look after you so you’re in the best headspace.”
Tonight is the first Titans game of the season and it’s my first ever hockey game. Russ doesn’t seem that nervous, but I take my hockey girlfriend responsibilities very seriously. He tried to tell me that I don’t have any “hockey girlfriend responsibilities” but that simply isn’t true—I’ve googled it.
Although I will admit, after consulting with Anastasia and Lola, it seems college-level hockey girlfriending isn’t as hierarchical as professional hockey.
Shame really, I feel like I’d have thrived.
“You really are the best, do you know that?” he says softly, rub-bing his thumb across my jaw. “But it really isn’t as exciting as you think it’s going to be. I need to shower, then I’m going to eat, work on an assignment, and uh, probably take a nap.”
“I can help with that!” I squeak, pushing myself into a seated position, straddling his hips. “I’ll cook for you.”
“Sweetheart, you are so good at so many things—”
“Thank you. Why do I feel a huge but coming?”
“—but I can’t play tonight if you give me food poisoning.”
My eyes are midroll when he grips my hips to stop me from climbing off him. “I don’t eat chicken, how am I supposed to know how long to cook it for?”
“Exactly,” he says, fighting a laugh. He pulls me down to him, wrapping his arms around my shoulders to keep me as close as pos-sible. “And while I’m still so grateful you touched something you find gross just to make me dinner, let’s both play to our strengths. Let me be in charge of cooking the meat. You can’t get food poisoning from tofu, so you’ll be safe cooking that yourself.”
“I suppose it’d be okay if I just helped you with showering and napping... Oh! And your essay. I can help!”
“Thank goodness,” he says, moving his hands to grip under my thighs as he stands from the bed. Russ opens the bathroom door, dropping me onto my feet as he turns on the shower. “I was hoping you were going to offer. I know how much you love talking about fluid dynamics.”
“Mhmm,” I hum playfully as he pulls off his T-shirt, reveal-ing the hard planes of his stomach. “Not enough people ask me about it.”
I hold my arms up to make it easier for him to pull off my dress, and when we’re both naked, he ushers me into the shower. “That ends right here, Roberts. Engineering chat only from now on.”
“This is about to be the nerdiest foreplay ever.” He snorts, then immediately goes quiet. Suspiciously quiet. “What’s wrong?”
“I haven’t told you about Faulkner’s no pregame hookups rule, have I?”
The groan I let out vibrates off the bathroom tiles. “I didn’t see vow of celibacy in the girlfriend rules.”
He nudges my chin up to face him, before leaning down to kiss me soft and slow. His hand skims my stomach lightly, stopping right below my belly button, drawing swirls with the tip of his finger. “Just because I can’t get off doesn’t mean you can’t.”
“I suppose I can get on board with that,” I tease as his hand jour-neys lower. “I love game day.”
“Are your eyes closed?”
Staring at myself in the cabinet mirror, I fluff up my hair one final time as I listen out for a response. Something that vaguely resembles a “yes” is shouted back through a yawn, and I finally take the plunge, pulling open the bathroom door slowly.
Russ is about to leave for the rink with Robbie and Henry, and I want to show him my outfit before he goes. Well, sort of. Last week, Henry made a joke about me wearing his jersey instead of Russ’s, and it led to a story where Stassie turned up on Halloween in JJ’s and Nate looked like his head was going to implode. They disappeared for twenty minutes, and when they returned, Stassie was wearing a Titans cheerleading outfit instead. It gave me an idea, and when I asked where she’d bought it from, Stassie offered to lend me said outfit, and in a moment of sheer delusion, I accepted.
Stassie is built like an athlete. She’s petite and lean, so the idea of me fitting into her clothes defies both logic and physics. But she told me it was really stretchy, and Emilia reassured me it would be fine. I don’t know why I trusted either of them, because I am spilling out of this outfit.
Poking my head through the door gap, I spot Russ sitting on the edge of his bed, scrolling on his phone. “Are you ready?”
He looks up, smiling when he spots me and putting his phone down. “Very ready.”
I know this joke was worth it the moment his mouth and eyes compete for which is open wider. “Jesus fucking Christ, Aurora.”
“Do you like it?” I ask, slowly doing a 360° turn, knowing my ass is half out because of how short the stretched fabric makes the skirt. There’s a real risk that if I move too quickly the seams are going to split.
“You look, fuck. You look incredible. Is that—” He clears his throat, rubbing his hand against his jaw as his eyes rake over my body. “Is that what you’re wearing to the game?”
“Yeah, is that okay?” I walk toward him, stopping between his legs. His hands start at the back of my knees, running up the back of my thighs until they stop right below the curve of my ass. I bend over so we’re eye level; he looks tortured and I love it.
“Of course, sweetheart. You can wear whatever makes you happy.” Not the reaction I was expecting. “It’s going to be tiring though.”
“What’s going to be tiring?”
“Fighting everyone who looks at you.” He pulls me onto his knee, kissing beneath my ear. “I mean, I can manage it, but it’s going to be tough. I assume this is what you’ll wear to every game?”
I pinch my lips together, holding in a laugh. “Yeah, of course.”
“Obviously,” he says nonchalantly. “Wait, are you even allowed to wear a cheerleader outfit?”
“What do you mean?”
I know what he’s about to say before he even opens his mouth purely from his shit-eating grin. “Didn’t you get a lifetime ban when you stole that pig?”
“I hate you,” I grumble, trying to escape from his grasp. “I hate you so much.”
He can’t stop laughing, and as much as I love hearing him be so happy and carefree, I still want to smother him a little. “You don’t hate me,” he says, finally calming down. “Quite the opposite, I hear.”
“I don’t know who you’ve been listening to. They’re clearly an unreliable witness.”
“She’s a very reliable witness. She’s about five-seven, long blond hair, these gorgeous green eyes that look nothing like Shrek’s...”
“She sounds really hot.”
“She’s the hottest. And my favorite thing about her is she lets me know every day how in love you are with me.”
“Russ...”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“This outfit is cutting off the circulation to my limbs. I really need to get changed.”
Right on time, Henry bangs on Russ’s door. “Time to go.”
I don’t understand why I feel so nervous considering I don’t even need to do anything other than go and have fun. Russ gives me one final kiss. “I love you.”
“I love you, too. Good luck.”
He hovers when he gets to the door, turning back to face me.
“However you broke in, can you also break out?”
“I’m sure that’s something I can manage.”
By the time I’m picking up Emilia and Poppy from our house, my pregame nerves are in full force. I hear Poppy shout “Shotgun” as they both approach my car, and she slides into the passenger seat beside me. She’s styled her braids into buns and secured them with a UCMH scrunchie. “You look like school spirit threw up on you.”
We’re all wearing matching Callaghan jerseys, and I won’t admit it to her, but I’m sort of jealous of the scrunchies. “You don’t get to sass me today. I’m watching hockey for you.”
“You’re watching it for Russ,” I counter. “Spending time with me is just a bonus.”
Poppy and Russ clicked immediately after meeting for the first time, so when I asked her and Emilia to come with me today, they only semi-reluctantly said yes. Stassie and Lola are really sweet to me, but I’m still so new to their group and we’ve never hung out without either Russ or Henry being there.
Plus, with Emilia and Poppy in the room, I won’t be the person who knows the least about hockey.
The idling traffic as we get closer to the arena doesn’t help my nerves, and as I pull into the parking lot, I feel like I might be sick.
“Why are you acting like you’re going to get called up to play?” Emilia says from the backseat. “I’ve seen you ice skate. Trust me, you’re safe.”
“Leave her alone,” Poppy says, patting me on the head like you would a dog. “She’s lovesick.”
“I don’t know which one of you is worse,” I grumble, finally pull-ing into a parking spot. “Okay, game faces.”
The might-be-sick feeling doesn’t quite go away, but the ex-citement of watching Russ dulls it enough for me to enjoy the game. Lola self-appoints herself as responsible for getting us drunk, arguing Russ can drive my car home later. Stassie groans something about a strict regime her coach has her on that doesn’t include alcohol.
She spends the first period texting Nate updates, and when I spot one of the messages accidentally, it confirms my suspicions that they’re playing really well.
When she saw how nervous I was when I arrived, she reassured me that she used to get the same when she first started going to games, but it gets easier to not stress for them so much. I watch the end of the game through my fingers, screaming loudly when the guys do something that my limited knowledge tells me is a good thing. My heart feels like it’s in my throat the entire time, the only thing soothing it is mystery liquid in the jumbo cup Lola is plying me with. When the final clock runs out, and the Titans are five-one up, I feel like I can breathe again.
“I can’t do this every week,” I confess as we filter out of the arena.
“My blood pressure can’t take it.”
We all follow Lola toward a door labeled “Strictly No Access,” not questioning when she immediately pushes it open to reveal an empty hallway. “It gets easier,” she says. “Wait until you see them later after this win. It makes all the secondhand stress worth it.” “What do you mean?”
I don’t get my answer from Lola because as soon as we round the corner, I can hear them. I immediately understand what she means because they all sound so freaking happy. I’m about to text Russ to tell him that we’re in a mystery hallway near their locker room, when a man I’ve heard so much about appears.
“I’ve told you you’re not allowed to use this hallway, Ms. Mitch-ell,” Coach Faulkner drawls. “I had the ‘Strictly No Access’ sign in-stalled for your benefit. You are not above the rules of this college.”
Wow, it feels weird not to be the person being told they’re not above the rules. “Sorry, Coach,” she says sweetly. “I didn’t notice a sign.”
“Hmm.” His eyes scan the rest of us and he sighs when he settles on Poppy, Emilia, and me. “You three are new. You haven’t been on my radar before. Who are you?”
I instantly forget my name.
As soon as he says the words, poof, gone.
Poppy threads her fingers through Emilia’s, and Faulkner nods to acknowledge it. A silent lesbian abandonment by my best friends. “Great,” he murmurs, recognizing they’re not going to be distracting his players anytime soon. Turning his full attention back to me, I gulp like a cartoon character. Every tiny speckle of confidence dis-appears from my body.
Just as I’m about to make up a name, even if it’s not my own, Russ appears behind Faulkner. “Rory?”
Coach Faulkner turns to face him before turning back to me, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers. Russ moves to my side, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and kissing the crown of my head. “You’re not allowed down here,” he says quietly.
“So I’ve heard,” I say back.
“Coach, this is my girlfriend, Aurora,” Russ says so confidently it shocks even me. “Ror, this is Coach Faulkner.”
I genuinely think whatever Lola has been making me drink for the past few hours is the only reason I’m managing to stand here under Faulkner’s glare. Finally, after what feels like a million years, he speaks again. “It’s nice to meet you, Aurora. Callaghan, my office.”
I don’t think I breathe again until Coach Faulkner is completely out of sight. “That was intense,” I huff.
“The first time he met me officially as Nathan’s girlfriend, he spent twenty minutes explaining how Nate couldn’t afford any dis-tractions, like he wasn’t the one distracting me.”
“He loves me,” Lola says proudly. “He pretends he doesn’t, but he does.”
“I’m borrowing her for two minutes,” Russ says, taking my hand and pulling me around the corner we just came from.
I don’t know if it’s the alcohol, the win, or just my silly heart, but I feel extra in love when he kisses me. “I’m so proud of you,” I say, rubbing my thumb across his jaw gently. “I loved watching you play so much.”
“I loved knowing you were watching me play. When I looked into the stands and you were there wearing my name, fuck. I felt untouchable. My favorite game of my career so far.”
“Does this mean I have to come to every game?” I tease, because I think we both know I’m going to be at every game regardless of what his answer is.
“You can, but I have one condition.”
“And what’s that, Callaghan?”
“When we get home, I get to see how good of a cheerleader you really are.”
“You’re so annoying.” I groan, trying to fight him off as he buries his head into my neck to smother his laugh. “I’m about to spell the shit out of your name. It’s going to change your life.”
Russ rests his forehead against mine, breathing steady. “You already have.”
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Target Exclusive
Russ POV
Do not fuck this up, Callaghan.
That’s the only thing I can think as I gently move my mouth against hers. I don’t want to come on too strong, so I’m testing the water. Slow and steady wins the race, or something like that anyway. I move my hand from her chin, slowly tracing my fingers along her jawline until they dance across the sensitive area beneath her ear and she moans against my mouth softly. One small noise and I’m throbbing in my pants, for fuck’s sake.
Do. Not. Fuck. This. Up. Callaghan.
I’m acting like a teenager kissing a girl for the first time and I need to get my head in the game. I cup the nape of her neck, entangling her soft blond hair between my fingers. Not tugging, just a light pressure that makes her hum happily.
I hope she doesn’t think I was just trying to get her up here all night. Sure, it’s a fucking bonus but it wasn’t my intention when I found her earlier. I mean technically, she asked me to come up here.
I need to get out of my head.
Breaking us apart, I rest my forehead against hers. “I’m not expecting anything from you, y’know,” I say quietly. “We can stop at any time.”
I swear her body relaxes a little and I’m glad I said it. She doesn’t move her forehead from mine. “You know the same applies to you, right?”
“Yeah, of course.”
I’m more eager when I kiss her again. Her mouth moves against me, tongue expertly slipping against mine as her hands grip the hem of my T-shirt. I help her pull it off, throwing it somewhere behind me, practically fucking hissing when I feel her hands trail my abs before eventually reaching the buckle of my belt. We work in perfect rhythm as we strip me of my clothes, and when I’m down to only my boxers, I realize she’s still fully dressed. Shit.
She doesn’t seem to care as she appraises me, eyes traveling over every inch of me. I don’t know how long I can last with her looking at me like that. She’s so fucking sexy; I’ve never wanted to satisfy someone so much in my life.
I finally start at her feet, carefully unbuckling the tiny strap keep-ing her stilettos in place, running my hands up the backs of her calves and thighs until I can lift her from the desk. Her legs wrap around my waist and it’s taking everything in my power to walk to my bed and not just take her against the nearest wall.
I gently lower her onto my mattress, kneeling between her legs. I reach for the zip of her skirt, not moving it until she gives me an encouraging nod. I remove her skirt while she removes her top, and she’s breathtaking. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
There’s a sliver of vulnerability on her face when I look at her. Like my admission caught her off-guard, and yet I’ve never been so sure about saying something. Her stomach flexes as she fights to control her breathing, and I can’t help but admire her soft curves and faded tan lines. I’d feel guilty about ogling her if she wasn’t doing the exact same thing to me.
Aurora finally makes her way back to my face and I know I’m just beaming at her. There’s only one tiny scrap of lace left on her body, and I’m not confident I’ll survive it being gone. Reaching for the material on her hips, she bites her lip as I begin to pull her panties down, lifting her hips a little to help.
I hope the way my breathing just hitched was only loud to me, but the way she’s staring at me, amusement painting her expression, tells me it wasn’t. Discarding her underwear, she lets her legs rest open, her pussy is pink and swollen. I’m trying not to stare at her like a creep, but I don’t think I’m succeeding. Everything about her is so fucking pretty. I don’t want to rush, but I want to hear her moan again so badly.
I kiss her again, keeping my weight off her the best I can. I’m like a rock and if I let myself settle myself between her legs, it’s going to be the second time tonight I’m going to worry about shooting early because of her grinding against me.
Moving down her body, I let my lips linger over her pulse, before licking and kissing my way down to her breasts, over her stomach, listening to her whimper and watching her body arch against my mouth. When I finally kiss against her hip bone, down to the inside of her thigh, she spreads her legs wider, watching me expectantly. It feels like a lifetime passes while I give her a chance to change her mind, but she doesn’t, and the sound she makes when I finally suck her clit into my mouth and maneuver her legs over my shoulders is worth the wait.
She tastes so fucking good, and when her thighs tremble next to my ears and her back arches, I throw my arm across her pelvis to pin her to bed while she digs her feet into my back. I look up her body to watch her reaction as I slide a finger into her, followed by another. Her head is thrown back, stomach flexing, pussy squeezing my fingers tight as I work them at the same time as my mouth.
“Oh my. Oh fuck. Yeah, like that,” she whispers, sinking a hand into my hair. She’s so wet I can hear it with every movement. When I moan against her clit, she responds by grinding herself into my face.
Her voice cracks, breathing heavy. “I’m going to... oh my God.”
Her hips buck against my hand. Her grip tightens in my hair as she moans my name in a way that makes me want to do it all over again just to hear it. She rides out her orgasm, and when I finally throw myself down beside her, she’s looking at me like she needs something from me.
Shuffling closer, I kiss her softly. “Are you okay?”
She nods, running her fingers up and down my chest. “Yeah. Feeling like I should have put more effort into the lap dance. Didn’t know you were going to put on the performance of your life, jeez.” She nudges me onto my back, throwing one leg over mine to straddle my thighs. “Do you have condoms?”
I’m going to fucking scream. Maybe cry. “Sorry, I’ve just moved and haven’t had a chance to get some and I wasn’t expecting to... I’m sorry, I didn’t think.” I look down at the erection pressing against my boxers and blow out a sigh. “I’ll check Henry’s room.”
The smile she gives me has me momentarily forgetting about my crisis. “As much as I’d love to see you try and hide that from a house ful of people, I have some in my purse.”
She quickly climbs off, retrieving the foil packet from her purse and throws it down on the bed beside me before climbing back. Sit-ting up to watch her, I lean back against a hand, using my other to cup the side of her face. My thumb strokes across her bottom lip. “So perfect.”
The vulnerability on her face crushes me a little. I wonder how many times she’s been called perfect? I don’t ask, and she doesn’t say anything, instead she gently pushes me down again. Tearing the condom wrapper with her teeth, she lifts herself off me enough for me to push my boxers down, finally freeing me.
The surprised noise she makes when she looks at my dick is going to be locked in my memory forever. I take the condom out of her hand, rolling it onto myself while she just watches.
“There’s no way that’s going to fit. I mean I love a challenge, but I can only be challenged so much, y’know?” I can’t help but laugh as I gently navigate her chest down to mine, taking her mouth again. I’m ready to tell her that we don’t have to do anything, but then her hips roll against mine, dragging her pussy over my dick, and I groan into her mouth while she does it over and over.
My eyes pinch closed, pleasure shooting across my body, voice strains. “We’ll make it fit.”
Aurora’s hands press against my chest as she pushes herself up, lining me up, and sinking down in the slowest, most addictively torturous way. “Holy fuck,” I groan, holding her hips tightly to guide her. “Is this okay?”
She nods, jaw slacking as she lifts herself up only to sink down further, again and again, until I’m buried in her. Her speed picks up, nails dig into my chest. My fingers sink deeper into the flesh of her hips as she lifts herself right to the tip, swirling her hips before taking it all again.
She’s going to make me lose my mind. Or maybe I’ll acciden-tally ask her to marry me. I’m not sure which one will happen first. “You’re taking it so well, sweetheart.” The sound of skin slapping together echoes around the room. “That’s it, good girl.”
“Russ... Yes, yes,” she chants when I start to rub small circles between her legs with my thumb. She’s chasing another high and all I want to do is watch her face as her body grinds and squirms, pulsing around me.
“You’re doing such a good job,” I say, noticing the way she looks at me while I praise her. “Look how well you ride me, sweetheart.”
Her entire body tightens and she collapses on top of me, moaning, holding me close. Rolling her onto her back, I keep my weight off her while she catches her breath. I brush her hair out of her face, staring at her pink cheeks and emerald green eyes as I start to move inside her again. She’s so fucking tight but she fits me perfectly, and that’s all I can concentrate on when her arms wrap around my neck and I feel her legs shaking as she secures them around my hips.
“You feel so good, Aurora,” I whisper as my head falls to her neck.
“I want to feel you come around me again.”
I could say that ten times and it’d still be true. I want to be gentle with her because I’m so much bigger than she is, but she clearly doesn’t want that. Her legs tighten, pushing me deeper and when I pick up speed, sliding back in harder, she whimpers and presses her mouth to mine.
I’m so fucking close. My thrusts fall out of rhythm, breathing gets heavier, and when her hand slips between us, frantically rubbing, I pray I can hold off long enough for her to come again.
A few more thrusts and her body stills, head tilting back to cry out loudly, and if it isn’t the best noise I’ve ever goddamn heard. I’m falling right with her, coming so hard I moan into her neck for what feels like forever.
It takes every bit of self-discipline to pull out and roll off her, and thankfully, we both seem to be on the same page as we stare up at my bedroom ceiling, trying to catch our breath.
Why isn’t my dick going down?
“Do you need anything?” I ask her, looking beside me to see her arms crossed over her face as she shakes her head.
“No. I’m good.”
Play it cool, Callaghan.
Standing from the bed, I quickly grab our hastily removed clothes littering my floor, folding them into a pile, and putting them on the desk. Then make my way into the bathroom to dispose of the condom, closing the door behind me.
I splash my face with water in an attempt to hype myself to go back out there, but it’s pointless.
She’s just one woman, why am I so fucking intimidated?
Because she’s fucking gorgeous, sweet, and feels like heaven? That’s why jackass.
It’s times like this that I wish I was more experienced at shit like this. Is it weird if I ask her out after we just had sex? Is it putting pressure on her because she might be worried about how I react when she says no? If she says no. We have chemistry, right?
I could ask for her number then ask her out when she’s home, so there’s no pressure. Maybe. This isn’t great timing since I have to go to camp in the morning, but it’ll look weird if I wait ten weeks to ask her out. Won’t it?
“The only person who knows you’re not confident is you,” I re-peat out loud. I feel just as foolish as I did the first time JJ made me do it, but at least he isn’t here staring at me this time. “The worst she can tell you is no thanks,” I add.
“Satisfying her is far harder than just asking her out,” I say, which immediately makes me feel weird.
I’ve been in this bathroom far too long. I’ll go out there and just ask to take her out and reassure her she doesn’t need to answer now, there’s no pressure. I can just tell her I’m going to camp, give her my number, put it in her hands.
No big deal.
“Just fucking get out there,” I groan at myself.
I don’t know why my hand is shaking when I finally open the bathroom door, but I don’t need to worry about being embarrassed for long, because she’s gone.
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