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I slipped my hand along her neck, my thumb at her jaw, so I could feel her cheeks bowing as she sucked.
“Lexie,” I breathed. I kept the words I love you behind my teeth because they still made her feel awkward. She tried to hide it but I saw it. “You’re so fucking hot,” I said.
“Say the other thing,” she said, leaning back, a line of spit between her lips and the head of my cock.
“I want to fuck you so hard.”
“Oh god,” she breathed, licking me, squirming in her outfit. I could feel how turned on she was. “No, the other thing. What you really want to say.”
She looked up at me, cheeks and lips cherry red. Eyes dilated. “Say it,” she whispered. “It’s okay.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Fuck. I mean. Fuck. I pulled her up and kissed her as I pulled down her tights, I got my fingers between her legs where she was wet and hot and mine. All fucking mine.
“Yes,” she said and I realized I’d said it out loud. My inner Neanderthal coming out. “Yes, yours. I’m yours,” she said and I was past care or seduction. She was wet. I was hard. I spun her against the counter. And yanked her tights down past the perfect curve of her ass. Down far enough she could spread her legs just enough to let me in. I cocked her hips the way I wanted them, pushed her forward and got inside her as deep as I could.
She was the beginning and the end for me. She fell forward, groaning in pleasure, fucking back against me and I slipped my hands around to squeeze her clit while I did my best not to come. She exploded against me. Her entire body taut and shaking, her pussy a fist around my cock and then, done. I was done. I wrapped my arms around her waist, put my head down on her back between her shoulder blades and held on for dear life as my orgasm lifted me right out of my body.
Leaving just my heart. Which was hers.
Lexie
Walking into the inn, I could tell something was different. The energy was all off. Jasmine came tearing through, trying to hide her rage and pain but it was right there where anyone could see it.
“What can I do for you?” I asked her, catching her in my arms.
“Kill a hockey player.”
“Okay,” I said. “I can do that. We’ll need a very big grave.”
She took a deep breath and held it before letting it out with a dark laugh. “I should have known something like this was going to happen with him,” she said. “But right now, he’s at the bottom of the list. We have some Christmas magic to make happen. When you’re done at the front desk, can you come meet me in the barn?”
“Absolutely,” I said.
There’d been a few check-outs last night. Some families with kids who were in the pageant that I hadn’t realized were checking out before the pageant. Yikes, I thought. That really changed the numbers on the Rudolph routine.
I grabbed my phone and texted Chelsea and Ben. We’ve got trouble. Emergency meeting in the barn in fifteen minutes.
From Ben I got an immediate thumbs-up, but it was radio silence from Chelsea. Which was odd. Our text thread was almost nothing but nonstop cat memes from her. I made the coffee in the office and set out the cinnamon rolls that were still warm, delivered from the baker.
I’d designed some programs for tonight’s show. Just thank-you’s and little notes about the kids. I printed those off on red paper and folded them up so I could take them with me to the barn.
My phone buzzed again. A note from Avery’s father, the psychologist saying I heard what happened. Let me know if you need to talk. Avery will be there with all his ornaments on. I swear.
What happened? Weird. Maybe the proposal? The ring on my finger was heavy and surprisingly easy to get used to. I did really enjoy the way it sparkled n the sun. Feeling flush from morning sex and love and excitement for tonight, I took a picture of the ring and texted it to my mother.
Ethan’s mother’s ring. An early Christmas present.
Mom’s three dots started and then stopped. Started again. Stopped.
You can hock that for good money, was what I expected her to say. It was probably what she wanted to say, but she was biting her tongue and so she wasn’t going to say anything and I was both hurt and angry. My husband gives me a beautiful ring and she can’t even say something nice.
What is wrong with her? I wondered. Though, in truth I knew. The choices she’d made had defined her and what she thought of men and me. And that I had what she’d convinced herself no one could ever have, was upsetting.
