Between traveling to the island today and the festiveness of the party, I am exhausted—hence my falling asleep in the truck. “My phone is dead. Can I call Poppy to tell her where I am?” I ask in the kitchen, pulling out a chair to sit at the little table in the corner. It’s hard to imagine that Leif fits in this chair.
“Poppy?” Leif sounds confused. He’s pouring hot water from the kettle into the mugs. The spicy, herbal scent wafts around me; it’s just what I need. Ravena’s drinks at the party, however delicious, were high on the sweet scale.
“My sister. She’s the reason I’m here.” Did he not know that?
“Oh, sure.” Cleary from his tone, he did not. Several seconds later, he says, “No. Lines are down. No power and no phone callstonight.” My heart drops, but only for a moment, because then he’s next to me, a mug of tea for me. “Want to sit by the fire?”
Yawning, I nod, take the tea, and follow him back to the sofa. The dildo is still sitting there innocently, like a piece of art.
“Where’s your tree?” I ask, trying my best to be friendly and make conversation.
“Tree?” he asks with the same confusion as earlier. Thinking for a minute, he answers, “Outside.”
“You don’t have a Christmas tree?” I sip the tea, a lemony herbal blend.
“Oh, no. It’s just me. I don’t need a tree.” He waves off the idea.
“I hate to say it , but you might be perpetuating the stereotype of the Grinch,” I say with a tsk. He looks at me as if I’ve grown a second head, so I clarify. “You’re green, you don’t have a tree; in fact, your home, while nice, is devoid of any Christmas décor. And, despite all that, you look good in a Santa hat.” I end with a smile, so as to not completely offend the person keeping me warm during a blizzard.
He grunts, sips his tea, and I shove my laughter down deep. Does he know his grunt only reinforces my statement?
“I think even ‘just you’ can enjoy a tree with twinkly lights,” I say, surprised by the softness of my voice. “In fact, I’ll help you! In the morning, we’ll get a tree and decorate it.” Rotating on the sofa, with my knee tucked under me, I rest one arm on the back of the couch as I face him. It feels vulnerable to sit open, facing him, offering to help him with a tree, which seems very personal.
He doesn’t say anything.
After our mom passed away, Christmas decorating was a sacred affair for Poppy and me. We didn’t have much, and our stepdad didn’t always support us or pay for us to have a tree. But we were determined. We’d drag in whatever Charlie Brown style tree we could and decorate it. We’d string popcorn and cranberries and hang our homemade ornaments from school. And at the top, we’d place the star we made together with a photo of our mom in it.
I’d be lying if I said it didn’t bother me that Poppy and Koru decorated their tree without me this winter. I get it; it’s their first Christmas together. But I’m still family, right? They knew I was coming.
Leif startles me out of my thoughts. His hand is close to my arm on the sofa as he leans in. “If it bothers you that much, then you can help me get a tree. But please don’t cry.” He gently wipes the tear off my cheek. The tip of his finger is hot and rough and leaves behind a tingling sensation that travels down my neck to my chest and belly.
“Thanks,” is all I say, too tired and emotionally raw to explain it to him. I tilt my head toward him, bouncing over his absurdly muscular shoulder. As I let my head bobble back to upright, he wraps an arm around me, his hand flat on my back, and gently pulls me into him.
It’s awkward. I spill a little of my tea, hissing as I burn my finger. Leif clucks and takes the mug from me, setting it next to the dildo, then adjusts us so it isn’t awkward. We aren’t awkward. Curled up next to him, inhaling his scent of pine and cinnamon, watching the fire, listening to it crackle, I lower my guard and allow myself to relax.
“These clothes look good on you,” he says after a few minutes, plucking at the sweatpants along my knee.
“Yes, ‘wear your boyfriend orc’s clothes that will never ever fit you,’ is quite the growing trend.” Shit, did I just say ‘boyfriend?’ I bite my lip as a silent punishment to myself.
“Boyfriend orc, huh?” Yep, I did say it aloud. I can just melt into this couch and die now. There’s amusement in his voice, though he doesn’t smile. That doesn’t change my embarrassment.
“You know those fashion trends,” I wave my hand in front of us, “’boyfriend jeans,’ ‘boyfriend chambray,’ as if boys even know what a chambray is. That’s all I was saying. Not that you are mine.”
“Yet.”
That one word freezes everything in me, including my giant mouth. Hand frozen in space, lips twisted, about to speak, I blink at him. His tusks glint in the firelight as he eyes me with something more than plain amusement.
Chapter 5
Leif
Iwas better off being silent and grumpy. I was, truly.
But there is no denying that some part of me—a very large part of me—is drawn to her. Seeing her standing there with that fake orc cock in her hand awoke something primal in me. Never before have I wanted to claim somebody, to make someone mine. But not just ‘someone.’ Addy. It takes a lot of self-control to erase the desire of seeing her hold my cock in her hands.
She’s taken the liberty of curling up against me, and wherever she touches me is fire. What I want to do is roll over, pull her on top of me, and let her know what a real orc cock feels like. But that is dangerous. Just because she was studying it like it was a college assignment doesn’t mean she wants mine.
I stretch out and rest my arm over her shoulders. Her hand that was frozen in space by my idiotic word—yet—reanimates and rests back in her lap. She doesn’t protest my arm, so I squeeze her shoulders, rubbing out the knot I find. She makes a sound that is a cross between a sigh and a groan. “That feels really nice,” she says. “Can you do more?”
