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I ring the doorbell, wondering how Kiera will respond to me if I just haul her in for a deep kiss. Unfortunately, my confidence and swagger—born of the truth that I know how to make her scream—seems to have taken a hit.
Christ… what am I doing? This is all wrong.
I just about resolve to leave when she opens the door, surprise etched across her face. “What are you doing here?”
Before I answer, I take a good, long look at Kiera. It’s been four days since I’ve seen her and I’m not sure how it’s possible—maybe four days of absence and yearning—but she looks a million times more beautiful.
Her blond hair is in a messy bun on top of her head and her face is free of makeup. She’s wearing worn jeans, a long-sleeve Henley and fuzzy socks. In one hand, she holds a red velvet bow.
My eyes move to lock on hers and I try to be as honest as I can. “I have no clue why I’m here. I just wanted to see you.”
Confusion radiates from her gaze, a reflection of my tangled thoughts. Our relationship has been confined to mutual physical attraction and pleasure. While we’ve labeled ourselves friends, we’ve never acted the part before. Now everything has become inscrutably more complex and I feel like I’m on uneven ground. I think she’s feeling the same if her expression is any indication.
“Oh,” she murmurs, looking more unsure of herself than I feel on the inside. She steps back and motions with her arm. “Want to come in?”
Yes, I do. I want to grab her, kiss her, strip her naked and worship her body. But again… things are a bit off.
“Sure,” I say and cross her threshold. I wasn’t invited to stay, but I take off my coat, gloves and hat, tossing them on the back of her couch. I glance down at the bow in her hand. “I don’t think that will look good with your outfit.”
Kiera’s dimples pop and some tension releases from my shoulders because I’m still able to charm her, even if just a little. “I’m packing up my Christmas decorations. I have an insane amount of red velvet bows all over the house.”
These are her plans for the day? To put away decorations?
On impulse, I blurt, “Can I help?”
She laughs, her disbelief evident. “You want to help?”
“Yeah… why not?” I challenge. I don’t have a good answer to why I’m here, asking to spend some non-sexual time with her, but I can’t deny the desire to be in her presence if that’s all I can have at this moment.
She opens her mouth, I’m confident to rebuke me with the fact that we’re just fuck buddies, but then snaps it shut just as quickly.
Kiera’s eyes cut over to her Christmas tree—sadly, something I had not noticed on the few times I’ve been here—then back to me. “I have a ton of stuff to do today as it’s the first free day I’ve had in ages. I’ve got to get all the decorations put away, clean the house, do laundry and go to the grocery store. So I don’t have time to fuck around.”
“Fuck around as in amazing sex or fuck around in like goofing off?” I ask for clarification.
“They’re both one and the same. I don’t have time, so if that’s what you want, I’m going to have to pass.”
I’m not dissuaded or turned off by that proclamation. Surprisingly, my offer to help is genuine, but it doesn’t mean I won’t try to seduce her later. “Let me help,” I say, giving her my most earnest Boy Scout smile.
She lets out a sigh of resignation. “Um… yeah, sure. Why not? I could use an extra pair of hands.”
I glance around and notice for the first time the actual décor. The walls are a cream color and the massive sectional sofa I fucked her on is gray leather. It sits in the middle of the room and faces a large-screen TV hanging over the fireplace, sleek glass end tables with chrome detailing at each end. Abstract art hangs on the walls. If I had to guess, this is all Drake’s style and not Kiera’s and I wonder if she’ll redecorate.
There’s a huge tree in the corner that I truly never even noticed on my other visits because my focus was on sex and as anyone can attest, that will often blind you to other things. There’s a large box beside it, which I’m assuming is to pack away lights and ornaments. There are wreaths, candles, figurines and all sorts of other holiday decorations all over the place, on tables, on the mantel and bookshelves, all of it a reminder of the festive season that has now passed. I took down my stuff last weekend.
“How about you strip the tree and I’ll start packing up all the figurines and such?” Kiera says. She gives me a quick course on how to wrap the glass ornaments to prevent breakage and we get to work.
For a solid half hour, it’s silent between us. Not a word of conversation, although Kiera actually hums Christmas tunes while she wraps various breakables. There are a million things I want to ask her and I did come over to talk, but her voice is beautiful and it lets a little of the holiday spirit linger.
I finish the tree first and help her tape up the boxes she’s already packed. Under her guidance, I insist on carrying all of it out to the garage where I stack them on custom-built shelving on one side.
Back in the house, I point to the tree. “Hold on to it so I can loosen the screws at the base. Are they still doing curbside pickup?”
“Fortunately, yes.”
That’s all I need to know. “Hold the top,” I repeat and she steps in. I drop down to the floor where I lie on my side to unwind the screws free of the tree trunk. “Got it secure?”
“Yeah… I’m good.”
