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"I'll see you later, Dea," Crosby said.
There was no mistaking the anxiety—nor the excitement—that bubbled up in my system at his words.CHAPTER SIXCrosbyMovies Watched:- I'll Be Home For Christmas (Dea's pick)
- Christmas With the Kranks (my pick)
- The Family Stone (Dea)
- White Christmas (me)We'd skipped National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation because we both watched that on video chat with each other at midnight on Christmas Eve. It was our tradition.
But the night was still somewhat early.
And we were both fully vegged out on the couch in our comfy Christmas pajamas, binging on Italian we'd ordered too much of, and cookies we bought since we hadn't gotten to the baking cookies day.
Now, the question was, did I go with my gut and pick some more of my favorites—The Santa Clause, The Grinch, Trapped In Paradise, Surviving Christmas—or if we should go with some of the classics—A Christmas Story, It's A Wonderful Life, Home Alone, Holiday Inn—or if I should choose something more romantic to go with the mood I was trying to set. There were a ton of options for romantic Christmas movies. We could go with While You Were Sleeping, The Holiday, or Love Actually.
See, Dea had been distant since the night that led to the morning in my bed.
I couldn't say I was exactly surprised.
While I had been fully aware that our connection had always been a bit more than just friendly, she was just starting to understand that. It was, understandably, a bit of an adjustment for her. Especially so because she didn't have the best view of relationships in general.
I imagined, in her head, she'd already convinced herself that, somehow, a relationship between us was doom to fail, and that if it did, she would lose the connection we already had.
I knew this was not going to be a quick and easy transition from friends to something much more. Which was why I'd been careful to move slowly with it.
It was just getting more difficult than I'd anticipated.
Waking up to her on top of me, her legs spread on the sides of my hips, my hardness pressed against her, her nipples brushing my chest yeah, it had been hard to forget that, to keep my mind on other things.
"Okay, one more," Dea said, getting up to make hot chocolate. "You pick," she added as she flicked on the electric kettle.
"How about While You Were Sleeping?" I suggested.
"Oh, Bill Pullman is swoony in that one. I mean there is something special about the way he looks at Sandy Bullock in that wedding scene that just gives you all the feels."
I felt my lips curving up at her words as I flicked through her video catalog. If she wasn't forcing herself not to notice, she would see that the way Jack—Bill Pullman's character—looks at Lucy—Sandra Bullock's character—was the same way I looked at her.
"Okay. Here you go. With your weird-ass peppermint stick stirrer," she told me, handing me my mug.
"It's good."
"Peppermint belongs in absolutely nothing but mints and gum," Dea declared, shaking her head as she got back under her blanket—a red one covered in Christmas gnomes that complimented my green one covered in Christmas-sweater-wearing dogs.
"You're missing out."
"I don't think I am," she said, pulling her mug close to her face to lick the whipped cream off the rim of her cup.
That was a kick to the gut I didn't need right then. The last thing I needed was an erection while I was sitting close to her on the couch.
"Okay, here we go," I said, looking forward, trying to ignore the image of her continuing to lick her whipped cream in my peripheral vision.
"What's the matter?" she asked a couple minutes later, looking over at me with drawn-together brows.
It seemed my self-control was not as good as I needed it to be. Because I kept glancing over. And I was so turned on it was painful at that point.
"Nothing."
"You're all tense," she objected.
"I'm fine," I told her.
"Was work hard today?" she asked, scooting closer, leaning her head over to lay on my shoulder, her hug without the arms. It was one of the many sweet little gestures I had seen from her that made it hard not to love her. Especially knowing she'd never been given that kind of affection from her mom, that she managed to foster those behaviors on her own as an adult. There was a toughness in her softness that was unique and special.
"It's always a little crazy leading up to us closing up early for the holiday," I told her, even though it had nothing to do with my tension right then.
"Just one more day, right?"
"Half day," I said.
"Totally doable. We can call it an early night if you want to go home and get some sleep."
"Nah. I'm good. Gotta watch it till the perfect end scene of this one."
