by Amanda Aksel
Kent finds a bag of baby carrots in the fridge and sticks one in the short snowman’s face, between his pebble eyes, then ties his scarf around it. “There. What do you think?”
Hovering behind him, I chuck a little snowball at his shoulder. Smack! Kent turns slowly, but I’ve already got another snowball loaded and ready.
“Liz.” Damn I love the way he says my name, even when he’s got a warning in his eyes, “I don’t think you want to get into a snowball fight with me.” I throw the second ball and run before it hits him, laughing wildly. He chases after me, the sound of crunching snow at my heels, and a snowball crashes next to my hip. “Gotcha!”
I scream between giggling fits. My heart races fast with my growing speed and I’ve got the biggest grin on my face. I hide behind a nearby tree, scooping up a couple of handfuls of snow, but I don’t have enough time to form them into anything useful before he gets to me. I toss the snow at him anyway, but it crumbles before reaching him.
With a rosy-cheeked smile on his face, he races after me. Screaming and laughing in delight, I dodge him until he plows into me. I lose my balance and yank his coat in an attempt to stay on my feet, but both of us go tumbling to the ground. Kent and I crack up, our cold noses touching and our warm breaths fogging in the frigid air.
Panting and out of breath, I look into his hazel eyes. “I knew I was right about you.”
“What do you mean?” he asks, sniffling in the cold.
“You’re not the type to run away from a fight.”
He just smiles and kisses me with his frozen lips right there in the snow.
***
In the spirit of tradition, Kent and I end up back on the couch that afternoon, snuggled up with two steaming cups of hot cocoa, watching A Christmas Story. Kent laughs so hard at one point that he accidentally spills cocoa on his shirt. “Oops,” he says, brushing off the stain to no avail. “I told you I spill a lot.”
“Actually, you’ve given me a good idea for a new Solids collection. Stain-resistant fabric.”
“I like it. Send me one.”
My jovial smile fades when I register his words. “Send me one.” As in, we’ll eventually be far apart again. Throughout this whole day, I’ve forgotten that I’ll be leaving at the end of the week. Whatever is happening between us right now has an expiration date. And just like that, I’m yanked out of this fantasy we’re living and plunked right back into reality.
TWENTY
Kent
After the movie, Liz goes quiet. She says that she’s fine, but I can tell something is on her mind. I have no idea what happened between the snowball fight and now. In the evening, we head into town for dinner at this quaint little restaurant I’ve only been to a few times. But it’s the best place to eat within a twenty-minute drive. The place is practically empty as I’m sure most people are at home, spending Christmas with their families. Putting the kids to bed early for Santa to arrive. The waiter seats us at a table near the warm fireplace, and we order a bottle of their best wine. The more wine she drinks, the more she starts talking. But by the time our food arrives, I still haven’t gotten her to tell me what’s wrong.
Halfway through the meal, Liz swallows a piece of steak. “I have to remember to call Dahlia tomorrow. Can you believe that your fake fiancée is engaged for real?”
I laugh, shaking my head at the odd turn of events. “Better him than me.”
“What do you mean? You never want to get married?” She asks just before taking a sip of her wine. I do the same, washing her question down with the bold flavor. There have been many women who’ve asked me this very question at dinners similar to this one. And in all those instances, I’ve always said no. But after the week I’ve had, thinking about my Saturn revolution or whatever, I’m not sure what I want. “Honestly, I don’t know. What about you?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t know either.” Her voice is quiet and unsure. “I was engaged before. I don’t know if Dahlia ever mentioned it.”
For some reason, the thought of her marrying someone makes me queasy, and I drop my fork. “Really? When?”
“Five years ago. He left when my first business took off. He couldn’t handle being with an ambitious woman, I guess. Few men can.”
“I like ambitious women. I think they’re sexy.” I send her a wink.
“You do, huh?” She asks and I get the sense she’s not convinced. “But you’re not a relationship guy anyway, right? That’s why you put me in the guest room last night.”
I take a long sip of wine. Yeah, I’m stalling. Sue me. Wouldn’t be the first person either. “I wasn’t sure if you were comfortable sleeping in my bed. That’s why I put you in there.”
She shrugs, but I’m not sure she’s shrugged off whatever’s bothering her. “I get it. Sleeping next to someone is a very intimate thing.”
“Yeah, it is,” I say, looking into her eyes, trying to read her. “Liz, have I done something wrong? You don’t seem like your usual self.”
“No, no.” She shakes her head. “You’re great. Too great. I’ve been having such a good time with you, and I know it’s going to be over in a few days.”
I reach across the table and take her hand. “I know what you mean.” Truthfully, I had kind of forgotten about it. Or purposefully blocked it out. “The universe may be pushing us together but there’s a lot that’s in our way.”
Liz nods as if she’s running through the list in her head. “The distance. Your dad. Our workaholism.”
I don’t answer. Those are all huge issues, but for some reason in this moment and after the day we’ve had, they seem really small.
“You like San Francisco, right?”
“I love it.” I spoon potatoes in my mouth. “Maybe you’ll let me visit you there.”
“Anytime, my friend, anytime.”
I frown at that. Friend? The title doesn’t sit well.
“Think your father will approve?”
“When you say it like that, you make me sound like a teenage girl.” When she doesn’t say anything, I realize that I’m not much different from a teenage girl who’s stuck at home because her father doesn’t want her going out with lads. It’s pathetic really. “I’m sure it makes me look, well, actually, I don’t know how it makes me look. Ever since I graduated uni and my dad told me that if I worked hard enough, one day he would give me Bonnaire Enterprises, it’s the only thing that’s really mattered to me.”
Liz shrugs. “Hey, I get it. My business is my baby too. If someone threatened to take it away, I don’t know what I’d do.”
The answer to that is so obvious. “You’d start another business. That’s why you’re not still running I love leggings dot-com. You built it and set it free. It’s the same thing I do every day. We love it and we’re good at it too. When Solids sells, it’s going to be huge.”
“Well, if you love it so much, why would you want to be in charge of a conglomerate? That’s a totally different thing.”
“I know, but come on. You can’t get any higher than that.” It’s the same thing I’ve been telling myself for the past ten years.
“If that’s what you want, then I know you’ll be great at it.” Liz raises her glass and sips her red.
“Thank you.” I would be great at it. I’ve been great at anything I’ve put my mind to, but there’s that question again. Do I want it? What if deep down, I don’t? Then what? The thought is unsettling.
After that, I change the subject and she tells me all about her life in San Francisco, painting a picture so vividly that it reminds me how much I like it there. By the end of it, I’ve decided that I’m going to visit her there one way or another. We walk down the street after dinner, past all the closed shops and head home. When I pull up to my house, the snow begins to fall again. She gets out of the car, huddles her arms in close, and stares up at the starlit sky. I walk toward the house but she doesn’t follow.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Shh,” she whispers. “Li
sten. Do you hear that?”
I crane my head, engaging my ears but I don’t hear anything. “No, it’s just quiet.”
“I know,” she says, still, snowflakes falling on her long lashes. “All is calm.”
And for a second, I forget where we are and even when we are, and I just exist with her for the moment. My thoughts finally go quiet.
***
Inside the cottage, we settle in near the flickering fireplace and pick a Christmas station to listen to, then pop open another bottle of red. She moves next to the tree, peering around the branches and touching the ornaments with the tips of her fingers. Between sips of wine, she hums to the music and I relax near her on the edge of the fireplace.
“You know,” I start, “I haven’t looked at my email since this morning. I think this might be the longest I’ve ever gone.”
“Wow!” She blinks her eyes wide. “I totally took a peek at mine when I went to the bathroom at the restaurant.”
I make a face. “I was wondering what took you so long.” She shoves my leg with her fuzzy-covered foot and I grab it. “I see you wore your sexy socks.”
“Oh, yes.” She wiggles her brows. “I know how excited they make you.”
I slip my finger inside the soft sock and start to peel it back, revealing her creamy skin.
She yanks her foot away. “Uh-uh. That’s for later.” I’m about to tell her that now is later when the song changes and her face lights up as bright as the tree topper. “Oh, my God, I love this song.”
I stop for a second to listen, then recognize the classic pop song often heard on clothing commercials this time of year. She rocks to the rhythm, singing along with every word.
I set my glass down on the stone fireplace and jump to my feet, then I offer her my hand. “Wanna dance?” I ask and she puts her dainty hand in mine, smiling big.
With one swift tug, I pull her to her fuzzy-socked feet, not a drop of wine spilled. She sets her glass aside and wiggles her body to the jazzy beat. I follow with the only thing that seems to be appropriate for the song, the twist. Very sexy, I know. I take her hand and she mimics my twist, her hair falling near her face. Laughing, feeling a little silly, but it’s kind of fun too. For the two minutes that we move together in the living room, I completely let go of my worries about everything.
The song changes again. This one is slower, but just as romantic as the last. I open my arms and she steps into them, her hand around my neck. Swaying easily to the music, our eyes meet and I’m already convinced this will be the best Christmas I’ve had in ages. “I had a feeling you were a good dancer.” She flicks her brow, pursing her mouth.
“You did? How?”
“Let’s just say I’ve seen you keep the rhythm before.” She tugs on her glossed lower lip.
Sliding my hand around her waist, I pull her body against mine so she can feel what a good dancer I am. Her lashes flutter as she looks up at me. I’ve waited all day to have her again, and I think I’ve waited long enough. I lower my lips onto hers, caressing her cheek with my thumb. She moves her mouth down to my jaw and she peppers kisses over my neck, then tugs on my earlobe with her teeth. “I’ve got something to show you,” she whispers, then pulls away. “I’ll be right back.”
TWENTY-ONE
Liz
I hurry back to my room, slipping along the wood floor in my socks. Locking the door behind me, my heart starts to race. This lingerie box has been waiting on the bed all day. I slip into the teddy, freshen up my makeup, spritz on some perfume, and coat my purple lips with a fresh coat of red lipstick. My tall suede boots and a little Santa hat are the finishing touches for a very sexy Christmas getup.
My boot heels clack on the hardwood as I walk down the hall back to Kent. When I turn the corner to the living room, it only takes a second before his jaw hits the floor. “Merry Christmas,” I say like a very naughty girl.
“Oh, my God, you look . . .” Kent rubs the back of his neck.
I strut over to him, dragging my heels like an exotic dancer. “What did I call this outfit? The gift that keeps you coming.” My hand grazes his pants and I look him in the eye. Just the feel of his hard cock is enough to get me wet.
Kent smirks and pushes my hair over my shoulder. “I have a feeling you’re right about that.” His lips tickle the side of my neck while his fingertips run slowly down my back and along my ass. My body tingles from the wine, feeling fluid and soft. I pull back, take Kent by the hand, and lead him to sit on the sofa. I hike up my leg, rest my foot on the back of the couch, and pull out a condom that I had tucked in my boot. He takes it and kisses my stomach, lightly tugging the fabric between my legs with his teeth. “Unzip me,” I say.
The tips of his fingers skate over the slope of my knee, dropping down to the long zipper at the back of my boots. The scratching sound it makes as he drags the zipper down teases me. I slide my foot out and spin around. While he unzips the other one, he kisses the back of my thigh, nibbling at the skin.
“Mmm,” I moan at his touch. Before I can step out of the suede boot, he rises to his feet and pulls me back into him. I feel him harden against me as he kisses the tops of my shoulders. His hand comes around, slipping in between the velvet of my panties. Like a magnet to steel, his fingertip finds my throbbing, wet clit and swirls around hard, then soft, but steady. A tingle shoots through my body and I grab the back of his head, lacing my fingers through his brown hair, pulling him closer. “Kent . . . don’t stop,” I whisper, biting my lip as I come.
He licks the edge of my ear. The warmth of his breath makes me shiver. “It makes me crazy when you say my name like that, say it again.”
“Kent,” my wispy breath wraps around his name as my knees shake.
He peels the lingerie off my shoulders and down my body. I turn to face him and he cups my cheeks, kissing me hard. His mouth tastes like pinot noir, but his kiss is even more intoxicating. I push his sweater over his head and tear into his jeans just enough for me to slip my hand inside and find a very full package. Kent pushes his pants and briefs down his hips, but I don’t let go. I just stroke his cock up and down, wishing he were already inside me.
“I love your hands on my cock,” he says, kissing me. “Wait,” he pulls away, grabbing the condom off the couch.
I take it from him and rip it open. “Allow me.” Holding the tip of it in my mouth, I slink down on my knees. I stroke his stiff rod, suiting his soldier with my mouth, taking him in as deep as possible. His hand falls softly on my head and he caresses my hair, letting out a sexy growl. I release him and trail my lips up his abs, over his broad chest, and eventually meet his sweet, sexy mouth.
Kent takes me in his arms and lowers me to the floor. I puddle onto the plushy rug, the roaring fire adding to our smoldering heat. He crawls over me with a hungry look in his eyes. “You have the sexiest, most beautiful, most satisfying body, you know that?”
We kiss for what seems like the hundredth time but it’s as exhilarating as the first. I rest my head down and he tangles his fingers in my hair, kissing my face, my neck, and my chest. The weight of his body feels so good. Spreading open for him, I undulate my hips, wanting to feel all of him.
I open my eyes to find him watching me as we kiss. Kent locks his gaze with mine as he slides in, my body practically melting into the cozy floor. I tie my legs around him, moaning as we make love next to the fire. The heat builds up between our bodies, moving in and out and through us. Kent interlaces his fingers with mine, little moans escape from my lips as my wetness spills over him.
In this moment, Kent is mine and there are no barriers between us. Nothing to hide. I feel my body give, then tense, and back again. Same as my heart. I look into his eyes and it’s as if they’re saying the same thing that I’m thinking. The thing I want to scream out. But I can’t because I’m afraid of what will happen, for better or worse.
Instead, I whisper, “You feel so good.”
He breathes onto my neck. “I love the way you feel too.”
***
We lie naked on the rug for a while. Kent’s heart pounds beneath my ear, matching the beat of my own. He strokes my back as I twirl my fingers over the hairs on his chest. This is the moment I wish I could actually melt into him. All I can think about is the thing I almost said, and it’s the only thing that keeps this moment from being the best Christmas memory ever. Why did I let myself fall for a guy I can’t be with?
His breath relaxes and I feel his chest rise and fall with ease. He’s as quiet as I am. I lift my head and he looks at me. “Hey.”
A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Hey.”
When I look at his face, those satisfied eyes beneath his lashes, I know that it’s true. Just like the princess in Poppy’s book, I’m in love with a billionaire. And since I can’t say it, I just start giggling.
“What’s so funny?” Kent asks.
“Nothing. I’m just . . . happy.”
He tucks a lose strand of hair behind my ear, then tilts his chin forward. I kiss him thinking that if he’s the last guy I ever kiss, it would be okay. “I’m glad you came,” he says, “away with me, I mean.”
“Me too.” With the tip of my finger, I tap the dimple in his chin. “So, have you thought about your wish for next year?” He knits his brows, seeming to have forgotten our conversation. “Your holiday tradition.”
“Right. Yeah, I think I know it. Are you going to make one?” He raises his brow.