by T. A. Foster
“Oh yeah? You know a lot about women in their twenties and thirties?” I set down my glass on the coffee table.
“I’m just saying, you get prettier every year.” His eyes fixed on mine.
I could feel blood rushing to my face. “Well you get more attractive too.”
“I do?” He sat up and grabbed me around my waist. He lay back down, pulling me with him.
“Yeah, you do. I don’t know if it’s going to continue into your thirties though. I can’t tell.”
He laughed. “You’ll have to tell me then.”
“You think we’ll still know each other then? I mean you’re only nineteen now.”
“We will.” He slipped his hand underneath the hem of my sweater and ran two fingers over my skin. “I know we will. That’s the best part of only seeing each other once a year. There’s no reason for us to start hating each other.”
“That’s a good point.” I closed my eyes, his fingers were cool from holding the cold eggnog, and they felt good as he brushed them against my skin again and again.
“You’re going to have to be careful next year. When you start school.”
“Why?” I asked carefully. I didn’t want to do anything that stopped him from touching me. His fingers had moved up slightly higher, and he was continuing the back and forth motion.
“Because of what you look like. Guys are going to want to take advantage of you. You need to be smart.”
“I can handle guys.”
“Can you?” His hand moved up even higher, and I took in a deep breath. I wasn’t sure what game he was playing, but I liked it. The problem is I wanted more.
The Hazards of Mistletoe is available now!
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