One Bed for Christmas

by Jackie Lau

  I’m mortified. Not only did I ask my friend to snuggle for warmth, but I tried to hump him while I was asleep!

  It’s still cold in here, but I suddenly feel rather warm.

  “Don’t apologize,” he says. “It’s fine. I didn’t mind.”

  “You didn’t mind?”

  “Well, it was sort of awkward, but there’s no need to apologize. It’s not like I’ve never thought of you in that way.”

  “Right. Because straight guys always think about having sex with their female friends?”

  “I only do that with you.”

  He’s looking at me with an intensity I rarely see on his face. I feel pinned to my chair.

  I’m waiting for him to kiss me.

  I’m waiting for Wes Cheng to kiss me.

  I stuff some fruitcake in my mouth, and to my horror, start talking while I’m chewing. But I need to ruin this moment. It’s probably all in my imagination anyway.

  “So where were we?” I ask. “Right. Since I’m not going to put those moves on a guy at a party, what do you suggest instead? And what should I wear to this party if I want to pick someone up?”

  “You’re beautiful no matter what you wear.”

  “Don’t give me that line.”

  “It’s not a line.”

  “It’s definitely a line. Is that what you use to get women into your bed?”

  “Caitlin...”

  “Should I try to pick up a guy by telling him he’s beautiful no matter what he wears? Even if he’s wearing an inflatable T-Rex costume?”

  I swallow hard after I say those words. Because as I stare at Wes, who’s wearing a plain navy V-neck sweater, I realize something.

  He’s not just good-looking. No, he’s pretty freaking hot, whether he’s looking at me intensely like he is now, or stabbing oranges with cloves, or wearing an apron while baking shortbread cookies, or making me laugh.

  Okay, I wouldn’t say he’s especially attractive when he’s wearing a T-Rex costume, but you know what? In a way, he kind of is. I love that he does the floss dance while dressed as a Cretaceous carnivore. It’s so him, and it’s funny and charming.

  But he’s particularly hot when he’s sitting close to me, his knees nearly touching mine, and we’re all alone in his apartment.

  “You really are beautiful no matter what you wear,” he murmurs, and then he places his hand on my cheek and strokes it softly.

  Oh my God.

  I did not know that having one’s cheek stroked could feel so amazing.

  And this moment...I’m definitely not imagining it.

  I lean forward.

  He leans forward, too, and he kisses me. When his lips touch mine, it feels good and right, and when he cups my ass, I eagerly move to his lap. I wind my arms around him and increase the pressure; he matches it. Gentle, yet firm, and right now, it’s everything. God, I haven’t had a kiss like this in a long time.

  You’re kissing your friend, Caitlin!

  Suddenly he sits back, as though he heard my thoughts. He looks embarrassed that he kissed me like that.

  “Want to watch a Christmas movie?” he asks.

  We end up watching Elf, because I think it’s the greatest Christmas movie of all time, and we do snuggle, for practical reasons. The radiator is warm in Wes’s apartment now—apparently the heat came back on when we were out at the pub. But it’ll take a while for the apartment to warm up to room temperature, so we cozy up while watching the movie, and once again, we spoon in his bed, under a mass of blankets, me wearing his sweatpants and ugly Christmas sweater.

  There are no more kisses, though.

  An hour after we climb into bed, I’m still awake. I fell asleep immediately when he climbed into bed with me yesterday, but today is a different story.

  I can’t help thinking about our kiss. About how he told me, with all seriousness, that I’m beautiful, and touched me so tenderly. And apparently I put some moves on him in my sleep, and I can’t help thinking about that, either.

  I’m pretty sure Wes is still awake. His breath, which I can feel on my neck, is not that of a sleeping man, and when I adjust my position, he groans. I press back against him, and I’m shocked—yet, in a way, not shocked at all—to discover he’s hard.

  As I release an unsteady breath, I’m filled with want.

  He feels so good behind me, and I’m sure he would feel even better inside me.

  Really, this is just a sensible solution to my problem of needing to get laid, and I’m all about sensible solutions. Rather than picking up a guy at Eugene’s party, why don’t I fulfill my need for sex with Wes instead? I don’t know how things would go with a stranger I met at a New Year’s Eve party, but Wes is right here, and he’s my friend and I’m completely safe with him. I know he’ll treat me well, and I’m pretty sure he’d say yes, given what happened earlier tonight.

  The kiss, brief though it was, felt great, so it only stands to reason that sex would too, right?

  “You awake?” I ask.

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “Want to have sex?”

  Chapter 6

  Wes

  Caitlin propositioning me is the stuff of my dreams.

  Last night, when she wanted to join me in bed, she only wanted my body heat. Now, however, she wants more.

  Wait a second. My mind must be playing tricks on me. She didn’t really say that, did she?

  “Did you just say you want to have sex with me?” I ask.

  I wish I could see her face, but I can’t, not in the darkness of my bedroom.

  “I did,” she replies, “but don’t worry. It’s just sex. It doesn’t mean anything.”

  That’s precisely the problem.

  I want it to mean something, unlike with any of the women I’ve slept with before.

  Earlier, I told her she was beautiful. I was this close to confessing my feelings for her, unable to stand how she was talking about picking up a guy at Eugene’s New Year’s Eve party. However, I put my many years of practice at hiding my feelings to good use, and I managed to keep my mouth shut.

  Okay, that’s not true.

  I managed not to tell her my feelings, but I kissed her, and I did not keep my mouth shut when doing that. For so long, I’d dreamed of holding her against me and pressing my lips to hers. In far more romantic scenarios than what ended up happening.

  But it was amazing nonetheless.

  I love her. If I sleep with her, I want it to mean something; of course I do.

  Yet she thinks I want the opposite.

  I wish I could tell her everything, confess I’ve been in love with her since she knocked me to the ground and pulled a first aid kit out of her knapsack. There was something so endearing about that first aid kit, and I have the same feeling in my chest now at the practical note in her voice. She sees us as being friends who have sex—just once, or on an ongoing basis? I’m not sure, but she sees it as a practical solution to, well, being horny.

  So sex is on the table, and I think our friendship will survive it, but if I reveal my feelings, everything will get really weird. Although she wants to sleep with me, that doesn’t change the fact that I’m not her type when it comes to a relationship.

  This is not how I’d dreamed things would happen.

  But I’m a weak man. The woman I love wants to have sex with me? I’m going to give her exactly what she wants, even if it’s not everything I desire.

  I’m going to rock her goddamn world.

  Unfortunately, I’ve gone too long without speaking, and Caitlin thinks I’m not interested.

  “Sorry,” she says, “forget I ever—”

  I cut her off with a kiss.

  When my lips meet hers, it’s electric. I feel like sparks are flying from my fingertips as I stroke the soft skin of her cheeks and slide my hand down to her neck. I press myself against her and feel her curves against my body, even through all those layers of clothing.

  “Let’s do this,” I say, as though I’m talking about mak
ing a gingerbread house, rather than something I’ve desperately wanted for a dozen years. “I want you naked, but if you’re going to get too cold—”

  “Naked is good, but we’ll have to stay under the blankets.”

  “I can work with that.”

  I slide off the Rudolph sweater and toss it to the ground, followed by the long-sleeved T-shirt of mine that she’s wearing underneath. Then I turn on the lamp beside the bed, because there’s no way I’m having sex with Caitlin in the dark.

  She instinctively crosses her arms over her chest.

  I’m not used to Vulnerable Caitlin. I’m used to Caitlin taking on the world with her incredible work ethic and intelligence and charm.

  “I haven’t been in bed with anyone in a long time,” she says quietly. “I know you’ve been with lots of women, and—”

  “Not as many as you think. And you should never doubt that I think you’re beautiful and sexy, even if I never told you that until tonight.” I rake my eyes over her bare chest. Her breasts aren’t large, but they’re lovely, and her nipples are pebbled right now, whether from the cold or her excitement, I’m not sure. “You’re special to me,” I say quietly, not sure if I want her to hear. “Like no one else.”

  I place my hands on her sides and stroke my thumbs up the slope of her breasts and over her nipples. To my satisfaction, she whimpers. Then I set my mouth to one nipple, rolling my tongue over the tip as I stroke her other nipple with my hand, dragging another whimper out of her. Instinctively, she moves her hips up toward me, and I get even harder.

  My sweatpants are loose on her, and I easily slip the tips of my fingers inside the waistband, waiting for her nod before I continue further. When she gives it to me, her pretty lips parted, I slide my hand into her panties and draw my middle finger along her slit.

  Oh, fuck. She’s wet for me.

  My cock desperately wants to be inside her, but I also want to give her pleasure before we get there. I want her mindless, begging me to take her. I want her to shatter in my arms. We might only do this once, and I want it all.

  I slip my finger inside her, and we both groan.

  “Good?” I ask, running my other hand through her hair.

  She nods.

  “You just tell me if there’s anything you want, at any time,” I say.

  “Well, there’s one thing...”

  “Yes?”

  “I was hoping you’d go down on me. You know, if you’re into that.”

  “Of course that’s part of my plan. I don’t know if I should be offended that you thought you had to ask.”

  She chuckles, but then I press my finger deeper inside her, and she groans. It sounds just like one of the groans she made in her sleep last night.

  I grin and slide my head under the blankets and down between her legs. I pull out my fingers and give her one long, slow lick.

  She grabs my hair, holding me down, keeping me where she wants me.

  I love it.

  In fact, she’s gripping my hair tightly enough that there’s a bite of pain, but I like that. I circle my tongue around her clit, then over her entrance. She bucks her hips toward my face, and I love that, too. I thrust my fingers inside her again and continue to pleasure her, reveling in the feel and taste of her.

  God, she’s amazing.

  And this is real, utterly real, so much better than all the times I imagined it.

  Her breathing becomes jerky, and I grab her ass and press her against my mouth, the better to ravish her. I feel her muscles tense, and then she comes apart in my arms.

  I glance up. “How was that?”

  In response, she pushes my head back between her legs, and I give her exactly what she wants. She squirms against me, and it’s not long before she orgasms again.

  As she shakes and shatters and cries out in my arms, I wonder, just for a moment, if maybe I’m enough for her. If I can give her what she needs outside the bedroom, too.

  That never seemed like a possibility to me before, but for a flash, it is.

  Caitlin is pawing at my shirt, trying to take it off, but her movements are clumsy. I save her the trouble and whip it off myself, and the noise of appreciation she makes is gratifying. She runs her fingers over my pecs and abs as though I’m a work of art, made just for her.

  Anything for you, Caitlin.

  But I don’t reveal any of the feelings that I’ve kept bottled up inside for so long. Instead, I smirk and say, “See anything you like?”

  “I knew you were fit, but I didn’t know you looked like this.”

  I take off my pants next, and she stares at the bulge in my boxers. Hungrily.

  It’s still hard to believe this is actually happening. Tentatively, she reaches inside my underwear and wraps her hand around me. I hiss out a breath.

  “You’re so...so...”

  She can’t find the words, and I know what that’s like.

  Caitlin Ng is touching my cock, and for once, this isn’t just a fantasy.

  As she slowly slides her hand up and down, I slip my fingers between her legs again and find her soaking wet. It’s easy to push three fingers inside her, and she groans once more.

  “Wes, please.”

  “Please, what?”

  “Fuck me. I want you to fuck me.”

  Jesus. I love hearing her talk like this in bed.

  I reach into my bedside table for a box of condoms. It’s buried under a few other things. Contrary to some people’s beliefs, I don’t have a different woman in my bed every couple of weeks, and it’s been a while since I’ve used this box.

  I rip open the foil packet and roll on the condom. I raise myself over Caitlin, rubbing against her slit a few times.

  “Ready?” I ask.

  She nods, and slowly, I push inside. I watch her face as I do so, watch as her lips part and her eyes flutter closed and her hands clench the sheet.

  She feels exquisite. Outside the bounds of even my overactive imagination. I move inside her, deep and slow—I can’t go fast, or it’ll be over too quickly. We’re underneath the quilt, cocooned in our own little world, just me and Caitlin, our bodies joined. Nothing else matters.

  “Good,” I murmur, and I can’t help a low chuckle when she nods eagerly.

  I bend down so I can kiss her lips once more. I shift down her neck, and she arches for me, letting me suck on her sensitive skin before I take her nipple in my mouth again.

  It’s overwhelming to have her after so long, but the most important thing is to make it good for her, to make it the best she’s ever had, so that if I can give her nothing else, at least I’ve given her that.

  As I rock my hips inside her, I lower my chest to hers and feel the expanse of her skin against mine. I slip my hand between her legs to touch her clit, and her back arches, and...

  “Wes!” She cries my name and holds me tight as she comes around me, and I’m a goner.

  I growl and finish inside her, everything inside me expanding and then exploding.

  I quickly go to the washroom to clean myself up before returning to her. Again, I’m the big spoon, but this time, we’re both naked.

  She giggles. “That was so much fun. I can’t believe we did that.”

  I can hardly believe it, too.

  “I’ve never slept with a friend before,” she says.

  “Neither have I.”

  She regards me for a moment. “Why do you never have a girlfriend?”

  “I’ve had girlfriends.”

  “They don’t last long, though.”

  It’s on the tip of my tongue to confess everything. How I fell in love with her, and how that only grew as I got to know her better. The way I think everything she does is amazing.

  But it’s a stupid cliché to say “I love you” right after sex, isn’t it?

  Unlike before, I have some hope, but I want to exist in this dream world for a bit longer. Before things really change, for better or worse.

  “Let’s not talk about that now,” I say, holdin
g her tightly in my arms. She wiggles her ass against me again, and I know it won’t be long before I’m ready to go again.

  Five minutes later, however, her breathing slows and she’s asleep. I inhale the scent of her hair—something floral and sophisticated—and hold her close as I join her in slumber.

  * * *

  When I wake up, it’s four thirty in the morning, and the light is still on.

  “Morning,” Caitlin says.

  “Morning?” I say. “It’s basically the middle of the night.”

  She giggles. She’s been in such a giggly mood this weekend. Just for me.

  I kiss her again, hoping she likes morning/middle-of-the night sex. As soon as she kisses me back, it ignites a fire within both of us, and our hands are all over each other. It’s not long before I roll on a condom and push inside her from behind. At first, it’s rapid, her on all fours and me pounding inside her over and over, but after she orgasms, her legs slip so she’s lying on her stomach, and it’s deep and languid and luxurious.

  Afterward, I hold her once more, and she says something unexpected.

  “I’m lonely,” she admits. “Work...it’s all I have. When I come home from the office, I have no one to talk to. When I have a free night, I spend it watching movies alone.”

  “You always have me,” I say, which is as much as I can admit right now.

  “I’ve enjoyed this weekend. I needed it. Thank you.”

  As I smile against the back of her neck, I realize that, in my twelve years of wanting her, I’ve made an error. I’ve thought of her as a perfect, untouchable goddess, but she’s human, too. Her singing voice is absolute shit, and she snores when she sleeps, and she puts too many sprinkles on her shortbread cookies, and she’s lonely. This weekend, in addition to making my fantasies come true, has also been very real, inflatable T-Rex costume and all.

  I can make her laugh and bring her to the peak of pleasure. I would do anything for her.

  Maybe I’m exactly what she needs. Those other men she dated, the ones who are nothing like me? Maybe they were all wrong for her.