Unwrapped: a MMF Holiday Romance

by Taryn Quinn

  Wendy gripped the back of the chair in front of her. “You’re serious?”

  Des leaned forward and picked up half the sandwich sitting untouched next to Cole’s elbow. ”It’s ham and Swiss. Want some?” he asked Wendy, clearly not interested in discussing his holiday activities any further.

  “No, thanks. I already ate.” She hadn’t, but it was a small lie. “Listen, I need to ask you both something.”

  Cole gave her a disarming grin as he relaxed in his chair. He was dressed in his professional best as usual today, not counting his blindingly red sweater. “Only if you convince Des to come with me.”

  “Go with him,” she said to Des before crossing her arms. Best to just get it out quick before her nerve deserted her. “Am I the first woman you’ve slept with?”

  The men looked at each other, twin expressions of amusement tilting their mouths. “Why, yes, Ms. Stanton.” Des toyed with her jingle bell bracelet, one of the relics from her past she hadn’t been able to part with. The tinkling bells tended to annoy people, but the sound made her happy. “We were both virgins until you came along.”

  “You’d still be one then,” Cole pointed out. “Since you’ve yet to partake of the lovely Wendy's luscious pussy.”

  Just like that, the scarlet elephant was out in the room. And she wasn’t ready to deal with it. Not with Cole there. “That’s not what I meant,” she said hurriedly. “I mean, have you shared another woman that worked for you?”

  Her bosses exchanged a long glance that set off a round of nervous spasms in her belly. “No,” Des said. “We’ve never been about that. This isn’t that kind of office.”

  “So what’s so special about me that Van doesn’t have? For example,” she added at Cole’s piercing glance.

  His lips twitched. “Do you want to invite her to play with us, Wen?”

  “No,” she and Des answered simultaneously.

  She looked at him, relief saturating her limbs. “Really?”

  “Really.” He reached over and laced his fingers with hers. Then he frowned, staring down at her hand. “Why do you ask? Does Vanessa suspect something?”

  She wanted to say no, that nothing was amiss, but lying about lunch was about as much as she could stand. Other than lying about being in lo—lust—with Des, that is. That secret would remain hers.

  “She’s asking questions.”

  Cole shrugged and pulled the crust off the half of the sandwich on his plate. Des still held the other in his free hand though he’d made no move to eat it. “So put her off. It’s not a big deal.”

  “I don’t want her to find out.” She tried to hide her disappointment as Des released her hand. “She’s my friend, and if she starts thinking I’m getting unfair benefits because I’m with y’all—I mean, fucking you both—”

  “The only benefit you’re getting is the use of our extraordinary dicks.” Cole tossed aside his crust like a ten-year-old. “With Des, you’re barely even getting that.”

  Des’s brows dipped low over his churning eyes. “No, she’s right. Cole, we can’t risk Van's suspicions. This is a business, not a damn brothel.” At Wendy’s flinch, Des stroked her arm. “You know what I mean.”

  “Yeah, I do. You think I’m bought and paid for.”

  “Well, aren’t you?” Cole bit into his sandwich. “Not the sex part obviously, but we pay you for a service which you perform very well.” He chewed and swallowed before giving her one of those grins that could infuriate her or turn her on depending on the day. This was definitely falling into the infuriating category. “You’re amazingly skilled. Believe us, we appreciate it.”

  “Shut up, dickhead.” Des dumped his uneaten sandwich on the plate and gripped her forearms. “Forgive my hasty choice of words. I just meant I don’t want us—any of us,” he said with a stern glance at his partner, “to lose sight of we’re about here. Van shouldn’t have to worry that she works in that kind of office.”

  “An office where people have healthy sex lives? Oh, no, anything but that.”

  Ignoring Cole, Des traced his thumb over the inside of her wrist. She hoped like hell he couldn’t feel her trembling. Even though she knew what she had to do, her body was already registering its objections. “We’ve loved getting to know you better, but that’s not a requirement of your working here. Anytime you say the word, we’ll go back to the way things were. No questions asked.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed Cole’s smirk. “She can’t give us up. Who needs eggnog when we’re around?”

  “I think maybe we should. Stop this, I mean.” Great, now her voice was shaking too. She made herself look into Des’s eyes and spoke again, more evenly. “It’s been fun, but it’s almost Christmas and—”

  “And you don’t want to start a new year like this.” Des nodded as if he understood completely, which didn’t make any sense.

  How could he understand? This setup should’ve been perfect. They’d shared amazing sex and tons of laughs. They definitely made it harder for her to remember she was lonely. It just wasn’t enough. A taste of Des didn’t satisfy her hunger. It only made her crave him more.

  “Yeah.” Absently she freed her arms from Des and rubbed her hip. Yesterday they’d gotten busy on this very conference table and she had the bruise to prove it. “I hope we can still be friends,” she added, glancing at Cole.

  “Sure thing, babydoll.” He stood and leaned forward, tapping her nose before he gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek. “I’m seriously going to miss your sweet pussy. Did I tell you I even named it?”

  She sputtered out a giggle. “You did not.” It took all her will not to ask what that name was.

  “Oh, I bet he did. ” Though Des grinned, his eyes were uncharacteristically sober as he flicked the end of her braid. “You’re certainly brightened my holiday season, Ms. Stanton.”

  A smile tipped up her mouth despite the lump growing in her throat. Forget lump. It felt like a concrete slab. “Ditto. So, ah, I guess I should get back to work.”

  He nodded, his hand lingering on her hair. They were standing close to each other, so close she could smell the spearmint from his gum. She wanted to strip off the navy button-down shirt stretched across his taut abs, then peel down his dark jeans until there were no layers between them, only skin. She’d fill herself up with him until she forgot all about tomorrow.

  When Cole cleared his throat, they sprung apart like guilty lovers. Or awkward former fuckees. Pick your poison.

  So…this was it.

  “One more thing.” Giving in to her impulse, Wendy leaned up on her tiptoes to kiss Des a final time. His lips heated and curved under hers. “Go to Maine.”

  Chapter 6

  It took him until Christmas Eve to decide for certain he wasn’t going. It was tempting. He genuinely liked Cole’s parents and younger sisters, and there would be enough activity to drown out the noise in his head. But this year, it felt necessary that he stay home. Why, he didn’t know.

  “Are you sure?” Cole asked from the doorway while Des pulled the pages off his cartoon desk calendar.

  He’d forgotten to change the thing since early December. Wendy used to peel off each day for him without fail, but she’d stopped once they became intimate. He wasn’t sure if it was an oversight or intentional. Either way, it bothered him.

  Lots of things did nowadays.

  “Hot, steaming Tofurky with yummy white flour gravy and all the mixed veggies you can eat. C’mon, you know you want some.”

  He had to laugh, though the sound crackled in his chest. “Thank your mom and dad for inviting me. And don’t forget the presents I gave you for them.”

  Cole rolled his eyes and straightened his reindeer Christmas vest. His mother had knitted it for him and he hated it with a fiery passion. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t wear it to make her happy, sap that he was. “Yeah, yeah. Already in my trunk.”

  Des rose and stuck out his hand. “Have a great time.”

  Cole grunted and walke
d around the desk then wrapped him in a bear hug. “Call if you need some company. Stubborn motherfucker.”

  With that, he was gone.

  Des sat back in his chair and glanced at the ticking clock above his bookshelves. Only one-sixteen. They’d given Van and Wendy the afternoon off, but only Van had taken them up on it. Wen had insisted she’d be happy to close the office on her own and had just left to get her lunch from the deli down the street. She’d probably be unpleasantly surprised to find Des waiting when she got back, since she’d assumed he’d be leaving with Cole.

  To give himself something to do, he walked into the reception area and turned on the Christmas tree. The blue and silver twinkle lights helped beat back the dismal winter’s day, as did the little musical globe on the front counter. The nutcracker inside drummed his way through a traditional Christmas classic, stomping up clouds of flaky fake snow.

  The door opened and he glanced over his shoulder at Wendy. She stood in the doorway with her hair in twin auburn ponytails, her cheeks flushed bright pink from the cold. Snow dusted the shoulders of her cheery red coat and melted on her rosy lips. “Des. You’re still here.”

  He dipped his hands in his pockets. Even the defiant gleam of her eyes didn’t reduce her utter aloneness. “I decided not to go.” He helped her offload the paper sacks she juggled. “What is all this?”

  “I kinda went overboard. It’s my own Christmas feast.” She shut the door, her cheeks reddening even more as he unpacked her lunch. “Both kinds of soup sounded good so I got a small of each and half of a turkey and cranberry sandwich. Have you eaten?”

  “No.” He unwrapped her pickle and bit in. “What kinds of soup?”

  “Butternut Squash and Wild Rice with Eggplant.”

  “Both vegetarian. I think you should share.”

  She unwound her scarf and tossed it on the back of her chair. “It is Christmas, so I suppose I could. Why didn’t you go to Maine?”

  He jerked a shoulder. “I wanted to stay here.”

  “Alone?”

  “Maybe I’ll come over to your place,” he said, surprised when her lips pursed. He wasn’t serious, but he also hadn’t expected her to look so dismayed at the idea. “Unless you have big plans.”

  “Nothing special.” As she pulled out the plastic utensils and napkins, she frowned at the nutcracker on the counter. “You really like those things? Music boxes?”

  “I like them well enough. Why?”

  “Those tinny songs always made me sad.” She shrugged and sat at her desk.

  “Want me to turn it off?” Though she didn’t answer, he did it anyway then turned on her radio. “Better?”

  She pushed one of the soup cartons his way and offered him a small smile that never reached her eyes. “Much.”

  He sat down across from her at her desk and reached for his steaming cup of soup. She’d given him the squash. “Smells delicious. Here,” he said, scooping up some and holding it out to her with his other hand cupped beneath. “You should get the first sample.”

  “Such a gentleman.”

  “I think we both know I’m not.” His cock went painfully hard at the flare of heat that blossomed across her face as her lips slid over the spoon. “Good?”

  Nodding, she made a show of ripping open a packet of crackers. “Want?”

  He couldn’t stop staring at the subtle undulation of her throat while she swallowed. Good God, he was losing it. “Yes.” Her head bobbed up at his low, hungry tone. “I want.”

  She quickly changed the subject to something safe, and he didn’t try to guide them back to more dangerous territory. It was just as well they keep things semi-professional. Or as professional as things could be when he couldn’t stand up for fear of revealing his hard-on.

  Their lunch lasted all afternoon. The conversational topics ranged from work to friends to holiday traditions to random shit like their favorite TV shows. They were debating the pros and cons of the Giants versus the Bills when the phone rang. Wendy immediately reached for it, but he covered it with his hand. “It’s past three on Christmas Eve. Let it go to voicemail.”

  “But—”

  “As your boss, I insist you keep entertaining me with your devoted assurances that the Bills could actually win a Super Bowl someday.” He grinned and waved at her to continue. “As you were saying?”

  The next time the phone rang it was almost five, and it was pitch black outside. “Shit.” She bounced to her feet as if she hadn’t realized it was so late. “I should get home.”

  He nodded. “Your mom will be waiting.”

  “Oh, she’s got her own plans tonight.” She fluffed her hair over her scarf and laughed, but he heard the sadness behind the sound. “She’s heading to my aunt’s. They’re going to snuggle in with some movies and eggnog.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’m staying home.”

  “Alone?”

  “I want to. Really.” She grabbed her coat and was about to slip it on when he rounded the desk to do the honors. “See?” she asked breathlessly. “Told you that you were a gentleman.”

  He lingered with his hands on her shoulders longer than he needed to. Damn, her hair smelled as fresh as the inside of an icicle and as sweet as a candy cane.

  Oh fuck, he did not need to think about candy canes. Not when she was smiling at him in the twinkling glow from the tree, her eyes deep and dark and way too aware of the energy all but pulsating between them.

  “I’m not going to argue, because that would just be redundant.” He lifted her ponytails over her coat and swallowed at the spill of her red hair. Once, just once, he wanted to see it across his pillow.

  Laughing softly, she grabbed the lapels of his shirt and leaned up to press her mouth to his. She tasted of her peach iced tea and moved back way too soon. “Merry Christmas, Des.”

  “Merry Christmas, Wen.”

  Once she was gone, he sat at her desk and stared at the tree until the lights blurred. If he’d ever felt more alone, he didn’t remember it.

  It didn’t have to be that way. They could both be alone or they could be together. Fuck the consequences.

  He pulled out his phone. He’d have to get his ass in gear if he had any hope of pulling this off.

  Christmas Eve and what was she doing? Giving herself a pedicure while crying over It’s A Wonderful Life. Later she’d give her props to Santa by curling up in her winter’s nest with her vibrator.

  Fa-la-la-flipping-la.

  Wendy wiped her damp cheeks. Van had called to make sure she was okay and she’d lied through her teeth. Sure, she was dandy. So what if she was alone on the worst night of the year? She’d chew up her loneliness with the same zeal she’d disposed of Aunt Gert’s fruitcake.

  No regrets here, baby.

  At least her purple passion toenails looked all sparkly. She’d just paint the strip of silver polish on the tips and—

  The doorbell rang and she nearly jolted off the couch. The bell didn’t exactly ring so much as give a depressed fart of air that passed for music. Had Mom decided to have Aunt Gert drive her back early? If so, where was her key?

  Cursing her toe separators, Wendy hobbled to the door. On the way she cast a glance at herself. Her hair was still in pigtails and she wore ripped leggings and a hot pink sports bra. They kept the apartment at a zillion degrees to make sure her mom didn’t have a relapse with her pneumonia, so the minute her mom took off, Wendy stripped down.

  She peeked out the curtain, though the porch light of their two-family house was out yet again. “Who is it?”

  No answer, but her mom was hard of hearing. Just in case, she dumped the silk flowers out of the vase on the side table and swung it above her head, ready to strike, as she yanked open the door.

  Oh, shit.

  She blinked, almost wishing it was a lunatic intent on robbing her of all three of her worldly goods. Because then she wouldn’t have to mentally berate her floppy hair and raggedy clothes and the fact that Des was carrying
the world’s tiniest Christmas tree and a wrapped gift as if he were bringing joy to the poor and decrepit.

  Which he kind of was.

  He looked her up and down, not smiling. Not reacting at all until he noticed the vase she still gripped like a weapon. Then he started to laugh.

  “Don’t hurt me, please. I come bearing gifts.” He held out his miniscule tree and the wrapped box, slaying her with a grin that made her hold turn slippery on the vase. “Can I come in?” he prompted when she only stared.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “It’s stupid for us both to be alone on Christmas, don’t you think?”

  “But—”

  “Let me in, Wendy.”

  She stepped aside and he walked inside, bringing a wave of cold air with him. She shivered as he shut the door, but she didn’t let go of the vase. Right then she needed something to hold on to.

  “A little chilly for that kind of outfit, isn’t it?”

  When she didn’t speak, he sighed and set down his pathetic little tree—the last from the lot at the end of the street, by the looks of things—and his gift, along with a plastic bag that he’d procured from under his coat. It smelled like Chinese food.

  Her belly rumbled and he smiled, arching a brow. “So you don’t want me or my tree, but you’ll take my eats, huh?”

  Smiling weakly, she shoved the silk flowers back in the vase and set it on the table. Her gaze darted from the shabby multicolored rug to the equally threadbare sofa to the crappy dollar store pictures she’d framed and hung in an attempt to give the place some life.

  And Des stood in her hall in his spendy leather coat and pricey sneakers and designer jeans. She wanted to throw up.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “You shouldn’t be here.” She flung a glance at her boxy old-fashioned TV where little Zuzu was talking about an angel earning her wings. Lines scrolled across the bottom, for God’s sake. “I can’t do this.”

  “Why shouldn’t I be here? I want to be.” He stepped closer and took her suddenly cold hands in his larger warm ones. “I thought you could use a tree, but you don’t have to put it up if you don’t like it. That’s not why I came.”