by Cassie Cross
I’m feeling kind of wistful about it when Josh sweeps me into his arms and carries me over to the bed, bridal style.
“What are you doing?” I ask as I grip his sweater to keep him near.
He kisses me once, then twice. “Celebrating our first Christmas.”
Chapter Ten
I stand on one side of our bed, holding a list and a pen, while Josh rummages through a giant duffel bag on the other.
“Boots for me and you, just in case?”
He nods. “Check.”
You get stranded in a blizzard once, and you tend to learn a lesson.
“Toiletry bag for me?”
He unzips a side pocket. “Check.”
“For you?”
He nods. “Check.”
I mark all three off on the list.
“What about the twenty-four pack of water?”
He laughs. “It’s in the car.” He comes over and wraps his arms around me from behind, his hands snaking across my middle. I slide mine overtop, the cool metal from our wedding bands clinking together.
He kisses my neck, a preview for later. “You really think we’ll need all that?”
I shrug. “Doesn’t hurt to be prepared. We’re gonna need to stay hydrated.”
He turns me in his arms and kisses me. Four years after the first time and a million kisses later, he still makes my knees weak.
Another tradition we took up after the road trip that changed our lives, is that we head out to the Holly Hill Inn for a long weekend every December to unwind from holiday chaos and have an uninterrupted 72 hours together.
Josh and I are still each other’s number one priority, and sometimes you just need a few days to relax and unwind. Anne has room #6 reserved for us, if we could ever get this show on the road.
“Your laptop isn’t on that list, is it?”
I scowl at him. “Of course not.”
He playfully kisses my nose, then heads out into the living room.
I’ve become somewhat of a workaholic these past couple of years, and Josh is always trying to help me keep the balance. I did wind up going back to Austin for a couple of months, but I was totally miserable there. I lined up a job with a marketing firm in Manhattan, and told Jerrica I quit. Josh flew down so we could have a party, then we sold my furniture and shipped the rest. I hugged Halle goodbye and we got on a plane to New York. I moved in with Josh right away, and while the place was cramped and things were a little chaotic for a while, I don’t regret a single second.
I branched out on my own early last year and started my own business. It’s going pretty well, but I still need to be reminded to take a break, so that’s what we’re doing this weekend.
I head out to the living room to make sure we have everything. We outgrew that studio within a year, and soon we’re going to need to upgrade this place, too. We still get a tiny tree every year, and ’til now we’ve been putting it on that rolling island Josh bought when he first moved up here. We put it up last weekend, and it’s filled with ornaments we’ve collected during our time together.
The Our First Christmas one, then another Our First Christmas one his mother gave us as a wedding gift. The hand-painted view of Mykonos that we bought from a small shop while we were on our honeymoon. A doormat that reads, New House, New Home with a tiny dangling key to signify the first apartment we bought together.
And there’s another one wrapped under the tree that I pick up to slip in my bag to give to him this weekend. We won’t be able to hang it on the tree this year, but I don’t think he’ll mind.
It’s a baby teddy bear curled up and sleeping on the curved bottom of a quarter moon. Our New Baby is engraved along the bottom. There’s a spot on the back for his or her birthdate and time.
We’ll know what that is come July. I’m scared, but excited. Josh will be over the moon. It’s a dream we’ve talked about, and now it’s coming true.
“Got me an early present, huh?” Josh asks, sneaking up behind me.
I turn and wrap my arms around his neck, then kiss that spot on the underside of his jaw.
“Actually,” I say, taking his hand and walking toward the door. “It’s kind of more of a joint gift. You’re gonna love it.”
A year ago, if someone had told me that I would be spending a Friday night in an airport trying to pick up a guy, I would’ve laughed in their face.
A year ago I was still with Ethan.
Back then I would’ve thought that I would be getting married this weekend, not traveling across the country to my best friend Gabby’s wedding. But Ethan had other plans, like fucking some random chick he met at happy hour on my 1,000 thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets. He thought I was working late. I came home early.
Surprise!
Ethan is the reason I don’t work late anymore. He’s also the reason I promised myself that I wouldn’t fall in love again. I’d be crazy to open myself up to that kind of heartbreak again, right?
Staying out of the dating game is easy, but I would be lying if I said that I don’t miss the scratch of Ethan’s stubble on my face when he kissed me, or that I don’t long for the feeling of his weight on top of me when we were in bed. I suppose that’s why I’m at a bar in the middle of Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport, sipping on a cocktail and sitting next to the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen.
We’ve been talking for half an hour, both of us waiting out a line of storms that have delayed every outbound plane in the area. I’ve booked a seat on a flight leaving first thing in the morning, and there’s a room waiting for me in the hotel that’s attached to the terminal. I should go up there and get some sleep, or finish one of the many projects that I have going on right now. But there’s something about this man that makes me want to stay right where I am. Of course, it doesn’t hurt that he’s incredibly nice to look at.
I don’t even know his name, but I like the velvety look of his close-cropped light brown hair and the sexy ruggedness of the couple of days’ worth of stubble on his face. I like the cool depths of his bright blue eyes and the infectiousness of his smile. I want him, there’s no doubt about it. I want to see him naked at some point this evening, but I’m completely unpracticed in the art of the one-night stand. I have no idea how to be even remotely sexy, but I’m flirting with him shamelessly. And he’s flirting back.
“What happened here?” I ask, tracing the long, jagged scar that stretches out a few inches below his thumb. His skin feels electric beneath my fingers and when I touch him, he looks at me like he never wants me to stop. Unless my raging hormones are making me imagine that, which is entirely possible.
“This?” he asks, leaning in closer as he twists his wrist. “I was rappelling down the side of a cliff and my harness slipped. I reached out for leverage and cut myself.”
“Rappelling?”
He grins. “Yeah, it’s when you descend from a rock face using ropes and-”
“I know what rappelling is,” I say, laughing. “I just thought that you were trying to impress me.” I want to rappel him. Start at his head and work my way down, down, down.
“I am trying to impress you, but that’s actually what happened.” He looks down at what’s left of the beer in his glass, and then he slides to his right a little, until his arm is touching mine. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Any impressive scars?” He smiles again, and its imperfection is endearing. His bottom lip is a little fuller than the top, and one of his front teeth is just the tiniest bit out of alignment with the rest. I’m pretty sure he knows how charming that smile is and the effect that it has on women. He’s using it to his advantage tonight.
“Nothing really impressive, but I do have this,” I tell him, pointing at my chin.
He slides his fingers along the underside of my jaw and tilts my head up so he can get a better look. The pad of his thumb grazes my scar, and I shiver. I hope he doesn’t notice the way my breath catches when he touches me. I don’t want to com
e off as desperate for him as I actually am.
“What’s the story?”
“It’s not even remotely cool as rappelling,” I say. He looks at me expectantly. “I was at Girl Scout camp when I was, I don’t know…seven maybe? It was my troop’s turn to clean up the mess hall, and we were all running around and acting stupid. One of the girls started chasing me and I tripped, fell, and hit the edge of a bench.”
He sucks in a breath through clenched teeth as he grimaces.
“Ouch. I guess you’re not good in situations where fleeing is required?”
“I generally avoid situations where fleeing is required, actually. I’m small, so I guess I could always hope that someone would take pity on me and pick me up to expedite the fleeing process and limit the amount of damage I could do to myself while running.” I’m talking way too much, but I just can’t seem to help myself.
“I’d pick you up, but it wouldn’t be out of pity.” There’s a mischievous look in his eyes that makes me want to wrap my body around his, and I’m beginning to get a sense that the two of us might have the same endgame in mind.
“So,” he says, rubbing the palms of his hands on his jeans. “Are you going to tell me your name?”
For a split second I consider making one up, but even though he’s a complete stranger, it feels wrong to want to lie to him.
“Callie. My name is Callie.”
“Short for…” He draws out the ‘r’ as he searches for a name to guess. “Calliope?” He seems really proud of himself for thinking of another name, and it’s disarmingly cute.
“Good guess,” I tell him. “It’s Callista. And your name is?”
“Nate.”
“Short for…Michael?” It’s an idiotic thing to say, but he laughs anyway.
“It’s nice to meet you, Callie.” My name sounds like heaven when he says it, and he takes my hand in his. His palm is a little rough, and I imagine what it would feel like sliding across the small of my back.
“It’s nice to meet you, too,” I say. For a very brief moment, I think about asking him where he’s headed, but I decide against it. One-night stands aren’t supposed to get invested, and I don’t even want to know the slightest bit about his personal life, including where he’s from or where he’s going. I wish there was a way for me to turn off my mind and think with my vagina. Sex should be easy, but my brain has a way of complicating things.
“I was pissed when my flight got canceled, but now…” Nate says, looking down at our fingers which are loosely entwined. Somewhere in the back of my head I know that he’s playing me, but I don’t care. I just really don’t care.
When he looks up, I catch his gaze, and we look at each other for a very long time. Butterflies circle my stomach, flapping their wings against my insides, and I feel like it might kill me to look away from him. It’s been forever since someone has made me feel this way, and I want to keep feeling it. I’m trying to figure out a way to ask him upstairs to my room without sounding like I’m asking him upstairs to my room. I’m such a failure at casual sex.
Thankfully the bartender interrupts my frenzied thoughts when he walks over and asks if we’d like another round.
“No,” I reply softly, still looking at Nate. His face falls with disappointment for just a split second before understanding lights his eyes.
He holds up has hand and shakes his head. The bartender walks away.
“Callie, I never do this, but-”
“I have a room,” I say, interrupting him to keep him from finishing that sentence. Because ‘I never do this’ is the kind of thing that people who typically do this a lot tend to say. And I’m okay with that, really. But I don’t want to hear it.
“Okay.” Nate flashes a smile as he stands up and takes my hand, threading his fingers through mine. Then, he slings his duffel bag over his shoulder and leads me out of the bar.
We make our way through the crowded terminal to the hotel, looking at each other every few steps and grinning like a couple of fools.
The elevator can’t come quickly enough.
I fumble with the key card in the lock, a mixture of nerves and excitement making my hands shake. As if Nate wants to see just how much of an effect he has on me, he wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me against him until I can feel every inch of his chest against my back. It takes me three tries to even get the damn card in the slot, and the longer it takes me, the more my hands shake.
“If you don’t get this door unlocked, I’m going to break it down,” he says, his voice a low rumble despite his teasing words. I take a deep breath to smooth over my jitters. “Let me help you,” he says, gentle now as his lips brush across the shell of my ear. He doesn’t seem to be nearly as nervous as I am, if he’s even nervous at all. He unlocks the door with a sure, steady hand.
Once we’re in the room, Nate tosses his bag to the side and pushes the door shut with his heel. Then he takes my face in his hands and kisses me like he can’t get enough, like he’s been waiting to do this his whole life. Our mouths melt together in long, slow kisses and then urgent, faster, needier ones. He brings my arms up and over his shoulders, clasping my hands together behind his neck.
“Hold onto me,” he says. And I do.
Nate kisses me again, and all I can think about is the way he tastes, the way he feels. He slides his hands down the small of my back, down the backs of my thighs, and he lifts me up. I wrap my legs around his waist, anchoring myself to him, not caring about what’s going to happen next as long as he keeps kissing me like he’s never going to stop. He gently lowers me onto the bed, then pulls off my shoes, grinning at me as he playfully tosses them across the room. I help him by unbuttoning my jeans, then he tugs on the cuffs, sliding the denim down my thighs as I take off my shirt.
I lie back and enjoy the view as Nate pulls his shirt over his head and then unzips his pants. They fall to the floor, revealing a pair of boxers with yellow smiley faces all over them. I can’t help but grin when I see them, and I trace the hem that hangs over his right thigh with my big toe.
“Are these your sexy shorts?” I ask.
He seems confused for a second, then catches on to what I’m asking after he looks down at what he’s wearing.
“Hey,” he replies, pretending to be offended. “I’ve gotten lots of compliments on these.”
I don’t even want to think about just how many compliments he’s gotten on these boxers, so luckily he distracts me by sliding them down his hips. And my eyes are glued to him. His body is insane. Sturdy. Muscular. Perfect.
“C’mere,” I say, crooking my finger at him, trying to be seductive and sexy and failing miserably. It doesn’t matter, he doesn’t seem to care.
Nate kneels over me on the bed, leaning down and kissing me before he reaches behind my back and unclasps my bra. He kisses my breasts, licking slow, torturous circles around my nipples that make my toes curl. My hands are everywhere, slipping across his broad shoulders and tight muscles, and I can’t kiss him enough. His skin is salty and sweet. I love the little sounds that he makes when I press my lips here, touch him there, and gently slide my palm along the length of his erection. He sighs, resting his head in the crook of my neck.
“Do you like that?” I ask, wanting to be sure that I make this good for him.
“Yeah,” he replies with a breathy laugh that warms my breast, and then his mouth finds its place on my skin. I continue sliding my hand up and down, and he bucks his hips against me as we kiss. When his breathing speeds up and his kisses become a little unfocused, he pulls away and kisses a trail down my stomach to the insides of my thighs. And then, oh. Oh.
“Oh my god,” I sigh, and Nate lets out a little hum of a laugh that vibrates against me and makes my eyelids flutter shut. He works magic with his tongue and fingers as I sink back into the mattress and let myself drift. I drift and drift. Sometimes my eyes are closed and sometimes I look down at him while he’s looking up at me and I have this crazy desire to run my fingers through h
is short hair. To scratch his scalp with my fingernails, because I think he’d like it.
So I do. And he likes it. And I like what he’s doing to me so much that it isn’t long until he makes me come in a warm, lapping wave that reaches out from my belly, cresting against my fingertips and toes.
Nate is obviously pleased with himself as I pull him up for a kiss, but it doesn’t last as long as I’d like because his lips leave mine when he sits up and reaches for his jeans at the foot of the bed. He pulls a condom out of his back pocket, and I’m so glad he wants to be safe. It would be too easy for me to be stupid with him.
He kneels in front of me, my legs on either side of his as he looks down, his eyes locked with mine. I can’t read his expression, can’t tell exactly what he wants me to do next. And it’s killing me, because whatever he wants me to do, I want to do it. One of his hands lightly traces the outside of my calf and the other cups my foot, lifting it until it rests on his shoulder. He turns his head and plants a sweet, gentle kiss on the inside of my ankle.
“You are so beautiful,” he says, his voice very soft and very deep at the same time. I’m lying naked in front of him, so he knows this is a sure thing. He doesn’t need to flatter me, but still…I’m flattered. What am I supposed to say? You’re handsome? I’d like to lick every square inch of your body?
He doesn’t wait for me to figure it out, he just leans down and kisses me as he hooks his arms under mine. I reach up and touch his face, wondering why all of this feels so tender when it isn’t supposed to mean anything at all. Nate presses his forehead against mine as he slowly pushes into me. He sighs and runs his fingers through my hair, and somehow it feels like we’ve been together like this before. He knows every spot to touch that makes me gasp, every stretch of skin to slide his tongue across that opens me up to him. He brings me to the edge of pleasure and pulls me back, again and again, until my whole body is humming and desperate. When I finally fall, I bury my face in his neck. He follows soon after, peppering my face with kisses.