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Sloan pushes me against the wall and kisses me hard, just like that night on the boathouse stairs.
“But you know what I figured out?” she asks, looking up into my eyes.
“No, what?” I whisper.
“That sex is great in general, but when it’s with the right person…theperson…yourperson, it’s…indescribable. Out of this world.”
I know exactly what you mean, baby.Looking into her eyes as I tug her bottom lip in between my teeth, I kiss her with my eyes open, wanting to look at the woman who undoes me completely, with her words… with her touch… with her presence.
Pulling back, I say honestly, “Lo, I don’t know how I’ve lived without you for so long.”
“Me either Wes, me either,” she whispers.
Touching my forehead to hers, I say quietly, “I don’t think I was really living, to be honest.”
“I know what you mean. I feel more alive tonight than I have in a very long time,” she says, moving her hands up behind my neck and rubbing the edges of my wet hair.
“Let me wash you up, my little Thea, while you tell me more about what’s been going on this year. I want to know about everything I’ve missed.”
Once we’re out of the shower, I give her one of my big gym t-shirts to wear to bed. Not going to lie, seeing her in my shirt, flushed and thoroughly fucked, makes me want to tie her to the bed and never let her leave.
She looks at me, noticing my lingering stare. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah… seeing you in my shirt, beautiful as ever, just does something to me.” A slight blush flushes across her cheeks. Sloan never was good at taking a compliment.
Making her way across the room to where I’m standing, she takes my face in her hands. Lifting onto her tippy toes, she presses her lips to mine. “Now it’s your turn. Tell me about your life and the speakeasy starting up. I am so damn proud of you, by the way. Your place was so awesome tonight.”
The way she smiles at me, and her prideful words, cracks something open in my chest, something I’ve been trying to keep at bay for a long time. I lie down on my bed and pull her into me. Soaking up the feeling of having her in my arms, I tell her all about my life since I’ve seen her last. We drift off to sleep, wrapped up in each other’s arms.
Exactly like we did last Christmas… At least this time I know we won’t wake up to any unexpected visitors.
Eight
Then- 10 months ago
Man, I have missed this. Missed the belly laughs, the good food, the people… even the damn Christmas carols Mrs. Turner makes us all participate in. They say there’s nothing like home for the holidays and it’s true, but the past few years, something hasn’t felt quite right. Home is where your family is, and my family isn’t just my parents. It's the Bartons and the Turners and I’ve been avoiding Christmas Eve festivities because seeing Sloan is a blessing and a curse. But today has been different. She seems to be letting her guard down around me again.
I see that spark in her eyes she hasn’t allowed me to see in years… and I fucking love it. I feed off it. It’s like a drug. She gave me an ounce of her full attention earlier, and now I can’t help but want every single second of it.
We’re currently all standing around the Bartons’ kitchen island munching on a shit-ton of Christmas cookies and a huge-ass charcuterie display. I swear we have every cheese known to mankind and these women even made the pepperonis into rose buds.
Top notch snack fest going on right here.
“It’s so good to have you here, buddy,” my dad says as he moves in beside me to get some of my mom’s famous cheese ball.
“I’m glad I was here to help the boys beat you old men in football again this year.” I crack a smile at him.
Since we were young boys, we always wanted to beat our dads at everything and now we finally can—so we never let them forget it.
He nudges me with his elbow. “Whatever, we were just taking it easy on you guys. I’m not going to be the one that has Eli riding the bench this year with an injury. There would be a lot of pissed off Carolina Bulls fans coming for my head.”
I laugh, looking over at Eli, who is shaking his head at my dad’s excuses.
“More like you guys didn’t want to break a hip… arthritis and all that old people shit, ya know,” Eli says, chuckling, causing his dad to punch him in the arm.
“Bullshit,” Mr. Barton chimes in. “I’m healthy as an ox.”
He whispers something into his wife’s ear that has her playfully smacking him. “John… you are terrible.” I don’t even want to think about what he just said to her.
