by Claire Adams
“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble,” I said, as I added cream and sugar before taking a sip. “But thank you.”
“No problem at all,” he said, as he hummed along with Johnny Mathis. “I’d hate to see you spending the day alone. Speaking of which, if you’re up for it, you’re welcome to accompany me to my parents’ for a Christmas Day celebration the likes of which has never been seen.”
“Oh, I don’t want to intrude…” I said, trailing off as I imagined the way my own family would deal with having a stranger suddenly thrust into the family gathering. I shuddered to think of how my mother would give someone the cold shoulder, and couldn’t imagine how I’d cope with that after everything that had happened today.
“Nonsense, my family would welcome the opportunity,” he said, flipping several pancakes onto a plate before pulling the bacon out of the oven and transferring it to a waiting paper towel. “But I have to warn you that they’re all a little crazy.”
“In what way?” I asked hesitantly. Blake set the plate down in front of me and motioned to the butter and syrup.
“Eat up, there’s plenty more where these came from,” he urged, as I returned to the stove. “My family is crazy in the way that people who teach for a living are crazy, so you’ll probably do all right with them.”
“So, you think teachers are crazy?” I laughed, as I spread a thick layer of butter on the top pancake and then doused the stack in maple syrup. I snuck a quick peek at him as he stood at the stove, and couldn’t help but notice the way the muscles in his back and arms rippled as he moved. I felt the familiar twinge of desire that had dogged me ever since our first meeting, and quickly looked away before it turned into something more urgent.
“No, just my family of teachers,” he said, as he pulled the pan off the stove and made a show of flipping each pancake into the air and catching in the pan. The last one landed on top of the first and I burst out laughing. Blake shrugged as he slid the spatula under both and flipped the messy stack into the trash can. He grinned at me as he said, “Let’s try that again, shall we?”
By the time he’d finished making all the pancakes, I felt like I was going to burst. He sat down and dug into a stack as I watched him eat. He told me about the party at the station the night before, and regaled me with imitations of the various firefighters and community members. Some of them I recognized, but most were strangers to me. What was obvious was that he had a great love for his job and his community, and it made him even more attractive.
He’d showered, but he hadn’t yet shaved, and the stubble on his face gave him a slightly wild and dangerous appearance. I tried not to stare at him, but when he looked up at me and held my gaze as he drank from the mug that said “World’s #1 Dad,” I felt like I’d been caught. I quickly averted my eyes and stared down into the mug I still held in my hands.
“Want more coffee?” he asked, as he leaned back and reached for the pot. I nodded, and he refilled my cup and topped off his own. “So, you think you might want to join me?”
“I don’t want to be a bother,” I said, as I looked up into his warm brown eyes.
“Don’t be silly; it’s really not a bother,” he smiled, as he reached out and brushed something from the sleeve of my shirt. “Besides, my father will love being able to try and stump the historian, and my mother always makes way more food than we can eat. You’d be doing us all a favor, really.”
“Well, if it’s a favor,” I laughed. “How can I turn that down? I mean, beggars without houses can’t really be choosers, now can they?”
Blake leaned back in his chair and let out a long, loud laugh, which made me laugh harder. He leaned forward and started to say something, but couldn’t get it out before he started laughing again.
“Lady, you’re hilarious,” he said, when he finally regained the ability to speak. “Now, let me see if your clothes are dry and then we can get ready to go.”
“Oh God, I don’t have anything decent to wear to Christmas dinner!” I cried, as he walked to the laundry room to retrieve my clothes.
“Eh, don’t stress, my family does not dress up,” he said. “In fact, if my mother can’t blackmail my father into putting on a pair of jeans, he’ll most likely be wearing sweats and his favorite Notre Dame sweatshirt.”
“Oh, okay,” I nodded, as I took the warm clothing from him, feeling a jolt of electricity pass through me as our hands touched. I quickly headed back to the spare bedroom to change. I could hear Blake in the next room and wondered what he’d do if he knew how much I wanted to touch him.
“Emily, you ready?” Blake said, as he tapped on the door.
“Almost!” I called, as I pulled on my shirt and jeans. I fluffed my hair and wondered if I should pull it up or leave it down as I lamented the fact that I had no makeup, or anything else. The tears welled up as the magnitude of what had happened hit me, and I sunk down on the bed with my head in my hands.
“Emily? Are you okay?” Blake called. When I didn’t respond, he carefully cracked open the door and stuck his head into the room. I was doubled over, holding back the sobs that threatened to pull me under. He sat down next to me and put his arms around me without saying a word. I turned and buried my face in his chest as the wave of grief knocked me over, and I began to cry harder than I’d ever cried before.
Blake tightened his arms around me and rocked me gently as I cried. He began to hum as he rubbed my back and stroked my head, and soon, my gut-wrenching sobs began to subside. The smell of his clean but musky cologne made me want to bury my face in his neck and inhale deeply, so I tipped my head and did just that. I heard Blake inhale sharply.
“You’re going to be okay,” he whispered, as I lifted my face and looked up at him. Our eyes locked and I held my breath as I waited for what would happen next.
Blake leaned down and brushed his lips across mine. It was a soft kiss, one that was testing the waters to see where to go next, and it made every nerve in my body spring to life. I reached up and wrapped my arms around his neck as he kissed me again. This time the kiss was harder, and I responded with an urgency that let him know he was headed in the right direction.
He leaned back on the bed and pulled me onto his chest as he ran his fingers through my hair. I melted into his arms as our kiss intensified. He traced my upper lip with the tip of his tongue, eliciting a soft moan from the back of my throat. I reached down and tugged on the hem of his shirt, and he held me against his body as he sat up enough to let me pull it up. Frantically, we stripped each other’s clothes off, searching for the bare skin that lay beneath them.
Blake groaned as I straddled him before bending to run my tongue up the side of his neck. I pushed away the doubt that nipped at the outer edges of my mind as I reached down and guided him between my legs. He gave me a questioning look that I silenced with one swift downward motion. He groaned as I began rocking back and forth, his hands sliding over my naked skin as I covered his lips with mine.
We moved together, finding a rhythm that drove us to the edge of climax before slowing down and extending the delicious tension that continued to build. Blake’s hands cupped my breasts, and I moaned into his lips as he squeezed my nipples into two erect points. I rocked on him as he thrust his hips upward, driving me closer and closer to the edge, and then, in a moment, I felt the flood of release moving from inside out.
“Blake!” I cried, as I felt my whole body awash with the intensity of orgasm. My pulsing brought Blake to climax seconds later, and I felt him tense and then release. He held me tightly as he throbbed inside me. I moved my hips in small circles, feeling the last waves move through me.
Neither one of us spoke. Blake wrapped his arms around me as I lay across his chest. He was solid and warm, and for the first time in a long time, I felt safe and secure. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply as I listened to his heartbeat return to normal.
“Emily? Are you okay?” Blake whispered, as he pushed a strand of hair off my face.
“Mmmm
hmm,” I murmured, not wanting to move from my warm spot of safety and satisfaction.
“That was amazing,” he said, as he kissed my forehead.
“It really was,” I echoed, as I tipped my chin so I could look into his eyes. He smiled and kissed me again.
“I would love nothing more than to lay here and keep doing this all day,” he said, as I nodded. “But we do have to get over to my parents’ house.”
“Oh my gosh!” I cried. “We’re going to be so late! I’m sorry!”
“Shhh, shhh,” he chuckled, as he pulled me down and kissed me tenderly. “It’s all good. I’m never on time, so they won’t be expecting me for another hour.”
“Oh, well then…” I said, flashing him a sexy grin that told him exactly what I was thinking.
“Oh no!” he laughed loudly. “We need to get dressed, you temptress!”
Blake kissed me once more and then sat up before I slid off of his lap and made a dash for the bathroom. I turned on the water, stepped into the large bathtub, and gasped as Blake followed. We spent the next half hour teasing each other as we slid our slick, soap-coated hands over each other’s bodies, exploring every inch and working ourselves into a state of arousal that could only be sated by melding our wet bodies on the bathroom floor.
When we finally closed the front door and headed for the truck, I felt a warm glow radiating from me that had very little to do with the holiday season. Blake smiled at me as he opened the truck door and helped me in.
“Merry Christmas, Emily,” he said, as he kissed me lightly. A smile spread across my lips as I whispered, “Merry Christmas, indeed, Blake.”
Chapter Fifteen
Blake
I hadn’t called ahead to tell my parents that I was bringing a guest to our Christmas celebration, but I didn’t worry because in my family, there was always room for one more at the table. Emily looked apprehensive as we pulled into the drive, but I smiled reassuringly and squeezed her hand before we headed into the house.
“Merry Christmas, Blake!” my mother called from the kitchen as Emily and I entered through the front door.
“How did you know it was me?” I laughed, as I slipped off my boots and hung our coats in the front hall closet.
“Because I’m already here, dumbass,” Brian said, as he emerged from the kitchen licking a spatula covered in what looked like cake batter.
“No fair, Mom!” I protested, as I crossed the room and tried to wrestle the spatula from my brother’s hand. Brian held it high above his head, and as I reached for it, he flung batter against the wall and across the floor.
“Brian and Blake!” my mother yelled, as she came out of the kitchen just in time to witness the mess being made. “What did I tell you two about messing up my…oh, hello! Who is this, Blake?”
“Mom, this is Emily Fowler; she’s Nina’s History teacher,” I said, as my mother raised an eyebrow and then immediately stepped forward to welcome Emily into her home.
“Emily, it’s so nice to meet you. Blake didn’t tell us he’d be bringing a friend,” my mother said, extending her hand. “Merry Christmas, and welcome to our home!”
“Thank you so much, Mrs. Gaston,” Emily said, shyly shaking my mother’s offered hand. “I…I…I…”
“Emily lost her house in a fire this morning, Mom,” I said, cutting into Emily’s attempt to explain why she was joining us on such short notice. My mother’s eyes widened, and I could tell she was reassessing the situation.
“Oh my goodness, you poor thing! Please, call me Ellie,” my mother said. “You lost everything?”
“Uh huh,” Emily nodded, looking down before adding, “except my cat. Blake saved him.”
“I’m so sorry,” my mother said, as she wrapped an arm around Emily’s waist and pulled her toward the kitchen saying, “Why don’t you come help me prepare dinner and let the boys set the table.”
“Awww, Mom,” Brian and I whined in unison.
“Don’t aww, Mom me,” my mother scolded. “You know where everything is. Get the table set and get your father out of the basement before you watch your games!”
Brian and I headed into the dining room and began pulling out the silverware and dishes that my mother saved for holiday meals and celebrations. We knew that setting the table would be infinitely easier than getting Dad out of his basement hideaway, and we also knew, from experience, that our mother wouldn’t let us get away with shirking our duties.
“So, you’re hot for teacher,” Brian said, as he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
“Oh, shut up,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I felt bad for her. She didn’t have anywhere to go, and it’s Christmas, for God’s sake.”
“It doesn’t hurt that she’s incredibly attractive,” Brian shot back. “I’m sure that had absolutely nothing to do with your invitation.”
“Okay, fine, she’s attractive, and I’m attracted to her,” I grumbled, as we spread the tablecloth my mother had left out and began setting the table. “I’ve been attracted to her for a while, if you must know.”
“Oh really?”
“Yeah,” I said, as I used the edge of the tablecloth to polish a fork that looked dull.
“Don’t you boys use the tablecloth to polish the silverware! If you need a cloth, I’ve got one in the kitchen!” my mother shouted, from out of nowhere.
“How the hell does she do that?” Brian said, whipping his head around in time to see my mother walking into the dining room holding out a polishing cloth.
“I’m not kidding,” she warned.
Brian and I finished the task without saying another word, and then went downstairs to find our father. He was sitting on a stool behind his workbench carving a piece of wood with a small penknife. A cerebral man by training, he’d taken up woodcarving during the year that my parents had spent traveling in South America, and had made a habit of sequestering himself in the basement when he was working on a project.
“What are you working on these days, Dad?” I asked, as I snuck a peek at the small figures lined up on his workbench.
“I’m making a Nativity scene for your mother,” he said, carefully blowing the shavings off of what looked like a small cradle. “I’d intended to have it done well before today, but, well…”
He trailed off as he bent his head and applied the knife to the wood in silence. Brian and I watched him for a few minutes before we both grew restless.
“Blake brought a date to Christmas dinner,” Brian blurted out.
“Hmm, that’s nice,” my father said, without looking up. “Who is she?”
“He rescued her from a fire this morning,” Brian said, before I punched him in the shoulder. “Ouch! It’s true! Why are you punching me?”
“Because you’re a jerk,” I said, shooting him a warning look. “She’s Nina’s History teacher, and she didn’t have anywhere else to go.”
“Hmmm, well, that’s nice of you,” my father said. “I’m sure your mother will be happy for a bit of female company this year.”
My father lapsed into silence again as he worked on his belated gift, and after awhile, Brian nudged me and tilted his head toward the stairs. I nodded and followed him up to the den, where we turned on the football game. I went into the kitchen to grab a couple of beers and saw that Emily and my mother were silently working on putting together a salad.
“We’re watching the game, if you’re interested,” I said casually.
“The Patriots and the Jets or the Falcons and the Packers?” Emily asked.
“Patriots and Jets,” I said.
“There’s no way the Jets are going to beat them,” she replied. “They’ve got a weak defense, and their quarterback has a bad arm. The Patriots are going to take it all the way this year.”
“You like football?” I asked, surprised.
“Actually, the Celtics are my favorite team, but they never play on holidays,” she smiled, as she added several sliced tomatoes to the bowl of lettuce.
“Why don’
t you go watch the game with the boys, Emily,” my mother said, giving me a hard look. “You’ve had a rough day and could probably use a break.”
“Oh, I don’t mind helping out,” Emily said, even though I could see the weariness in her eyes.
“Nonsense, if I need help, one of my devoted sons can take care of the task,” my mother said, raising an eyebrow. I nodded in understanding.
“BRIAN! MOM NEEDS YOUR HELP!” I yelled from the kitchen, sending both Emily and my mother into a fit of laughter.
“No fair!” came my brother’s indignant response. “I always have to do everything around here!”
I handed Emily one of the open beers and motioned for her to follow me into the den. Alone now, I put my arm around her and felt her shift so that she was leaning against me. Neither of us said a word as we watched the game and drank our beers.
Around halftime, I heard a car pull into the driveway, and I got up to go greet Nina and let her know that Emily was here. From the front door, I could see Remy sternly lecturing Nina, who sat staring out the passenger side window with her jaw set in defiance. I waved and saw Nina’s eyes light up as she turned and said something to her mother before quickly exiting the car. She grabbed her bag out of the back seat and slammed the door harder than necessary. I waved at Remy and saw the disapproving look on her face as she backed out and drove away.
“Hey kiddo,” I said, kissing the top of Nina’s head as I grabbed her bag. “You okay?”
“What do you think?” she asked in a flat tone.
“Yeah,” I nodded, as I wrapped an arm around her and headed for the house. “Hey, we’ve got a guest for dinner.”
“Oh yeah?” Nina perked up.
“Your History teacher, Ms. Fowler,” I said quickly.
“Are you serious, Dad?” Nina asked, stopping dead in her tracks. “Tell me you're pulling my leg.”
“I’m not, kiddo,” I said, shaking my head. “Her house burned down this morning, and she didn’t have anywhere else to go, so I asked her to join us for dinner.”
“Just fucking great,” Nina muttered.