North of Light

by J. M. Paul

  “So, tell me”—Trey closes the door and turns back to me—“how does it feel to be famous?”

  “I’m not famous.” I shake my head and grin as I shed my coat.

  “You’re a well-known writer now, Lunar. That’s gotta feel good.” Trey leads me back toward the commotion.

  I can’t help the smile creeping on my face. “It’s only temporary, but it does feel freaking fantastic.”

  “What feels fantastic?” Connor comes up from behind me and wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me into him. “Mmm,” Connor hums in my ear. “Besides you.” He nuzzles his face into my neck, his stubble tickling my skin.

  “Let the girl breathe, bro.” Trey scratches his chest.

  “But have you seen her?” Connor nibbles on the sensitive skin just below my ear, and it sends chills down my spine.

  “I’m looking at her right now.” Trey shakes his head, but the corners of his lips curve up.

  “She’s irresistible.” Turning me in his arms, Connor stares down at me as if I were his favorite person in the world and he hadn’t seen me in months. “Hi.” His eyes glitter, and I can smell alcohol on his breath.

  “Hi.” I place my palms against his chest.

  “I missed you.” He has one hand in my hair, the other cradling my jaw, his thumb moving over my mouth.

  Since the last couple of days have been so hectic, we haven’t seen much of each other. I’ve been busy with the attention my article’s been receiving, and Connor’s been occupied with Harry’s.

  “I missed you, too.” My eyes close as Connor leans down to kiss me.

  Lately, our kisses have been hungry, impatient, and needy. This kiss is slow, seductive. Almost like Connor is worshipping my mouth, making love to me with his tongue. It’s the type of kiss that burns in my blood and lights me on fire.

  My pulse rushing, I slink my fingers into his hair. Tightening my fists, I probably pull his strands a little too hard, trying to get closer to him, but the groan he releases tells me he doesn’t seem to mind.

  Before I know it, Connor turns us and has my back pushed up against the wall. When he presses his body into mine, I can feel him—all of him—against me.

  Our mouths turn feral, hands roaming and seeking. Connor’s intoxicating me with his smell, his taste, and his touch. His ragged breath in my ear, the taste of his peppermint on my tongue, and the feel of the hard edges of his body pressing into my soft curves—it all drives me mad.

  “I want you so fucking badly,” he growls low, sensual, his eyelids heavy. “Come home with me tonight.”

  His fingers slide down from my hip to my thigh, lifting my leg to wrap it around his waist. His other hand slides behind the back of my neck, his long, strong fingers applying pressure against my skin.

  My heart constricts in my chest and then falls to float in my stomach.

  I’ve never been to Connor’s place, and the intrigue almost has me immediately agreeing, but I hesitate. As much as I think I want to go home with him—to accept everything I know he’s offering—we’re still in the very beginning of our relationship. Even though it seems like I’ve known him much longer, he’s been a part of my life for only three weeks. I’m not ready to jump off that cliff with him even though I know I would definitely enjoy the ride.

  Connor doesn’t know everything there is to know about me yet, and he’s still dealing with his ex-girlfriend, Emily. If and when we’re finally together, I want there to be nothing between us but our lust, need, and sweaty bodies.

  “Noel?” There’s a quiet desperation in his voice.

  I swallow. “I—”

  “Quit dry-humping against the wall and get your asses out here,” Trey calls to us from somewhere behind Connor.

  Instant mood kill.

  Connor deflates with a deep sigh, and his head falls against my shoulder. Both of us are breathing hard, our panting echoing off the walls surrounding us.

  “Con,” Trey grumbles.

  “I need a minute!” Connor barks.

  “I bet you do.” Trey chuckles, and then I hear footsteps retreating.

  Several long seconds stretch by while we try to calm ourselves. Connor shifts as if he’s uncomfortable, and when he pulls back, his eyes search mine.

  “What is it about my parents’ house that sets us off?” He smirks.

  I laugh and fondly recall our first kiss in his parents’ library at the cookie-baking party. Things got a little out of hand—just like they did a moment ago—in the most delicious way.

  “It must be all the Christmas decor. It fires you up.” I swing my arm around to indicate the twinkling lights, sparkly decorations, and trees.

  Growling, Connor bends to grab my thighs and lifts me up. I squeal and wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist, so he doesn’t drop me.

  While still carrying me, he trudges toward the kitchen and loud chatter.

  “What are you doing?” I hiss. “Put me down before everyone sees us.”

  Completely ignoring my demand, he strides into the roomful of people, a mischievous grin pulling at his mouth.

  The voices quiet slightly, and I can feel several pairs of eyes on my back.

  “Everyone, this is my girlfriend, Noel. Noel, this is everyone,” Connor says.

  I squeeze my eyes closed and shake my head. Connor’s chest vibrates, and I know he’s enjoying my embarrassment.

  Girlfriend. The word sets my heart pounding in my chest.

  When I open my eyes, I mock scowl at Connor before plastering a stiff smile on my face and twisting to wave and say, “Hey,” to the group staring at us.

  “That’s what I call an entrance.” That’s from Trey—wherever the bastard is.

  Taking a few steps forward, Connor plops me on the kitchen counter and walks over to the bar.

  “Want something to drink?” he asks me.

  I ignore all the people still staring in our direction and give him a look that has him laughing again.

  “If I have to deal with you being like this the rest of the night, hell yes.”

  “Cheers, Journal Girl.” He winks.

  Connor’s hands haven’t left me the entire night. While ice-skating, he held me and helped me glide across the ice, so I wouldn’t break my neck. At the bonfire, his arm was wrapped around my shoulders or waist, keeping me close. When everyone came inside to warm up by the fireplace, his palm was on my knee, or he was holding my hand.

  The affection is sweet and turns my insides to mush.

  Apparently, I’ve become one of those girls.

  “Time for the human tree–decorating contest!” Connor’s mom, Laura, bursts into the expansive living room with an armful of what looks like art supplies.

  David’s behind her, carrying several plastic bins.

  “Let me get that, Dad. You’re not supposed to be doing heavy lifting.” Connor jogs over to take the containers out of David’s hands.

  “I’m fine, son.” David pats Connor’s back after the exchange.

  Laura and Connor put the art supplies—scissors, construction paper, puffy snow, and more—on a large wooden table.

  The group is excitedly chattering. Laura claps her hands, and Connor whistles loudly.

  “Okay, okay.” Laura moves her arms up and down to get everyone to quiet. “I know this is a crowd favorite. Same rules apply as last year. Break off into teams of four to decorate one of the members like a Christmas tree, using only the provided supplies.” She points to the pile of items on the table.

  “When the groups are decided, you have ten minutes to decorate your human,” Laura continues. “When the time’s up, we’ll post them on Harry’s Instagram feed to let the public vote for the winner.”

  “Hey, hey!” Cami enters the living room, carrying a bottle of Kahlúa with a red bow in one hand and BUG in the other.

  “She’s on my team.” I point at Cami, and several people look between the two of us.

  “Damn straight,” she agrees even though she ha
s no clue what’s going on.

  Cami makes her way through several bodies to stand next to me.

  “How was your gig?” I ask her.

  “Really good.” Cami’s gaze flits around the room to the people starting to gather into groups. “What the hell’s going on?”

  “Mom’s infamous human tree–decorating contest.” Connor pulls me into him and nuzzles my neck. “I’m on your team, too.”

  When Connor nips my skin, I release a squeak and push him away even though I want to pull him closer. He’s into public displays of affection tonight.

  “Human-decorating what?” Cami sets down the Kahlúa and guitar.

  “You guys have room for another person?” Keaton asks.

  “We certainly do.” Cami nods with unbridled attraction screwing up her face.

  I give her a look that says, Simmer down, hussy, and she sticks her tongue out at me.

  “Of course, big bro.” Connor slaps Keaton on the shoulder.

  “It looks like everyone’s found their groups,” Laura yells over the excited voices and commotion. “You have two minutes to figure out who’s being decorated and how. After that, I’ll set the timer for the competition.”

  Animated conversations fill the room.

  “So, this is really a thing?” I arch a brow at Connor and Keaton.

  “It’s really a thing.” Keaton stuffs his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.

  “It’s a lot of fun.” Connor’s eyes sparkle as he takes in all the commotion around us.

  “You would think so.” I playfully punch him in the arm, and he pulls me into a hug.

  “What’s going on?” Cami’s eyes circle the room.

  “I vote Cami to be the tree,” I singsong.

  “Aye,” Connor and Keaton say together.

  “What?” Cami frowns.

  “Despite my Scrooge heart, I’m the queen of shit like this.” I pull away from Connor and start to sift through the containers David’s handing out to each group. “You guys are lucky to have me on your team.”

  “Of course we are, but you’re not a Scrooge anymore.” Connor kisses the top of my head. “I’m slowly converting you to my Christmas cult.”

  I wave him off. “Maybe.”

  But it’s true. Spending so much time with Connor over the holiday season has helped me to somewhat overcome my depression over my family and what this time of year used to mean to me. Even though they’re not here to celebrate with me anymore, it doesn’t mean I can’t find enjoyment in what was our favorite season. Finding joy in Christmas is a way to honor their memory.

  “Okay, teams, I’m setting the clock in three, two, one! Decorate!” Laura says.

  “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas” by Johnny Mathis starts to blast over the house speakers.

  “What the hell’s going on?” Cami still doesn’t have a clue.

  “We’re decorating you like a tree, so stand straight and shut your mouth. I want to win this thing.” I grab construction paper and start cutting like a madwoman.

  “A Christmas tree?” Cami’s face scrunches up.

  I point at her with my scissors and say, “Either shut up or help.”

  Connor’s hands wrap around my waist. “I like it when you’re bossy,” he murmurs in my ear.

  “Not now, Butterball. We have work to do.” Grabbing the tape, I start taping snowflakes to Cami.

  She arches a brow, I scowl, and her lips pull into a knowing smile.

  Yes, apparently, I’ve found my inner elf again.

  I order the guys to work on snowflakes as I cut out and tape together a 3-D yellow star for the top of Cami’s head, and then I hang other miscellaneous items off of her.

  “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” by Brenda Lee switches on, and Connor, Keaton, and I are elbow deep in the festivity of covering Cami in garish trimmings. We laugh and sing as the guys hang bulbs off of her, and I create makeshift presents and something that simulates a tree skirt out of paper.

  Just as I strap the 3-D star onto Cami’s head and Connor turns on the stand of lights around Cami’s torso, the music shuts off.

  “Time’s up!” Laura shouts.

  The three of us step away from Cami with our hands in the air like we’re being held up at a liquor store. We observe our work, and a grin tugs at the corners of my mouth.

  “Don’t you dare laugh at me,” Cami hisses. “When I’m free of this getup, I’ll hunt you down and cut you.”

  I pat her cheek. “You’re hot, CC.”

  She flips me off, and the three of us laugh.

  “Wow.” Laura steps up with her cell phone aimed at Cami. “Smile.”

  Cami poses and gives Laura a cheesy smile. When Laura’s done snapping a couple of pictures, Cami glares at me.

  “Where did you come up with all this creativity?” Laura circles Cami.

  Connor and Keaton both point at me.

  “We followed her orders.” Connor’s smiling like I’m the North Star that led him to Santa’s workshop.

  “You did this?” There’s awe in Laura’s voice.

  “Hi. The name’s Noel—as in Christmas. It’s nice to meet you,” I say sarcastically and stick out my hand for Laura to shake.

  Laura laughs and wraps me in a hug. When she pulls back, she keeps her hands on my shoulders and turns serious. “You really are the perfect match for my son. It’s like you were made for him.” Laura kisses me on the cheek and gives me a sincere smile before she moves to the next group.

  Connor pulls me close and kisses my forehead. “Let’s get a drink.”

  “Uh, guys,” Cami says, “can you please get me out of this getup?”

  “Bye, CC. Thanks for being our bitch.” I wave playfully and pull Connor toward the bar.

  “What the hell?” Cami’s eyes go wide when several people turn to glare at her. “Holly. What the holly?”

  “You know we’re going to win, right?” Connor picks up several bottles of liquor and starts concocting something that looks like chocolate milk.

  “I wouldn’t be so confident. There’s a lot of creativity out there.” I lean against the counter and watch him pour out six shots from his mixture.

  “I have every reason to be confident. You have mad skills when it comes to decorating a human.” He hands me a shot glass and holds his up like he wants to make a toast.

  Lifting mine, I say, “To winning.”

  He wraps his hand around the back of my neck and pulls me against him. “I won the second you decided to be mine.”

  “I am yours.” It’s so completely true. I think I was his the moment I saw him walk behind the bar, wearing that stupid stuffed turkey hat on Thanksgiving eve.

  Lips touch mine, and even though we keep it very PG because we have an audience, it’s everything. Connor fills me full in a way I never thought I would need a man to do.

  We pull away, but our foreheads touch, just as our lips do.

  “I’m falling hard for you, Journal Girl. You’re my kryptonite.” His mouth ghosts over mine, making the words even more intimate than their meaning.

  “I’ve already fallen,” I admit without inhibition.

  “I’m pretty sure I’m—”

  “Sorry to interrupt the sucking-face fest—I kept it clean because, ya know, elders”—I can hear the shrug in Cami’s tone—“but this girl needs a drink.”

  Connor pulls back from me and clinks his shot glass to mine. “To us.”

  “To us,” I say, and we each tip it back.

  Whatever this is tastes like bottled Christmas crack.

  “What is this? It’s awesome.” I lick my lips, and Connor’s eyes zero in on the motion.

  “It’s a Christmas Cookie.” Connor leans in to whisper in my ear, “I bet it’d taste better off your lips.”

  My stomach clenches along with something much, much lower inside me. I know my eyes are all shades of hot fire when I move to look at him.

  “Guys, alcohol.” Cami taps her foot again
st the hardwood flooring.

  “It just so happens, I have shots at the ready.” Connor hands out the glasses.

  Before anyone can say anything, Cami slams hers back. Then, she takes Connor’s out of his hand and shoots it down.

  “That’s delicious. I’ll take another.” She bangs the shot glasses against the counter and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.

  “Why are you still in your getup?” I wave my hand up and down her living tree guise.

  “Apparently, we’re going caroling, and it’s mandatory the assholes—i.e. me—remain in this ridiculous attire for the wondrous festivity.” She gives me the evil eye.

  Since I volunteered her, I hand her my second shot.

  “Okay, everyone, we’re heading out to carol. The neighbors love this and expect it, so let’s grab a drink before we go,” Laura says.

  “Can we skip this?” Cami asks Connor and Keaton.

  “Nope. Especially since you’re the one dressed up.” Keaton winks at a huffing Cami.

  Who the hell still carols in this day and age? Cookie parties, human-decorating contests, and caroling … I think my ass really did fall into the North Pole.

  No-Pants Dance

  We ended up winning the human tree–decorating contest, and the award was another renowned Christmas Cookie shot made by Connor and the ugliest trophy I’d ever seen—a donkey with its hind legs in the air, decorated like … a Christmas tree.

  Cami laughed and laughed when we were awarded and made a comment about how she certainly looked like a jackass. She made us take pictures of her holding it and then posted them on Instagram, tagging all of us. It was humorous, but it could have been the steady flow of alcohol the Vanstones had provided and Connor’s first-rate bartending skills.

  The memory of last night still makes me smile this morning—even with the cotton mouth and slight headache I’m sporting.

  Rolling over in bed, I find I’m unable to move due to a warm body lying next to mine. I blink my eyes open and try to focus on my surroundings. I’m in a room I don’t recognize, and the warm body next to mine is Connor.