Resolutions

by Lucy Eden

  “Yes, doofus. It won’t be the first time we’ve slept in the same bed.” There have been many times, usually when one or both of us had too much to drink and never when one of us was in a relationship. This was the first time I felt nervous. “Will your parents get offended?”

  "No, they'd be okay with it." He slid under the covers next to me and covered us with the blanket. "Nice," he repeated. I turned onto my side with my back to his chest, and he slid an arm around my waist and pulled me into him. I tensed up. Being squeezed into Mike’s chest and being caressed by his warm breath sent shimmers of electricity to every inch of flesh and settled between my thighs.

  This was too much, right?

  We definitely shouldn’t be spooning.

  I should tell Mike we shouldn’t be spooning when he has a girlfriend.

  "Is this okay?" he whispered, his lips grazing the shell of my ear again. It felt more than okay. I took a deep breath to tell him how I felt about us sleep-cuddling but instead I nodded. "Very nice," he whispered.

  “Your dad is really good at Scrabble,” I said trying to ease the tension.

  “He’s an English professor. Why do you think I brought a teacher home?” He snuggled closer. “You were our only hope.”

  “I only beat him once.” I laughed.

  “No one else has ever beaten him. We’re gonna rub this in his face for years.” He laughed and hugged me even tighter, grazing my neck and shoulder with his nose. “Why do you always smell so good, Jane?”

  "Um, shampoo?" I giggled nervously, and he chuckled.

  "Mike?"

  “Yeah?”

  “Do you have a banana in your pocket?”

  He burst out laughing, and I giggled. "No, I'm just happy to see you. Do you want me to move? I could put a pillow between us, or you could be the big spoon…"

  "If I said no, would you promise not to judge me for being a sex-starved pervert and still be my friend?" I haven't been with anyone since I broke up with Rob a year and a half ago. Being held like this felt amazing, but being held by Mike like this felt like an actual dream.

  “How long has it been?” he asked.

  “A while,” I answered.

  “Well, you can’t get rid of me that easily and you know I'm a big fan of perverts, but please try to behave yourself. I don’t want to wake up in the middle of the night to find you taking advantage of me.”

  “I’ll be good. I promise.” I laughed.

  “Damn,” he said in mock disappointment.

  “Good night, you old horny degenerate.”

  “Good night, you little sexual deviant.

  Get Organized

  five

  “So, Mike’s completing your New Year’s resolutions for you?” Danny was leaning on my dresser eating an ice cream sandwich.

  "No, I'm completing the resolutions, but he's just helping. It's like, moral support." My legs were sticking out from under my bed, and I was reaching into the farthest corner with a broom wrangling dust bunnies.

  “So when are you two idiots gonna stop screwing around and just admit that you’re into each other?” she asked in a bored voice.

  “He has a girlfriend. Remember his girlfriend: six feet tall, size negative two, perfect skin, perfect hair, gorgeous...”

  “Jane, get off your bullshit and look in a fucking mirror. You’re gorgeous. Celestine Woods is an Instagram model."

  "You're an Instagram model," I reminded her, ignoring her compliment.

  "Excuse you?" she replied in a mock scandalized voice. "I'm a model who happens to have hundreds of thousands of Instagram followers. And Chellie is a dumb Instagram model."

  “That’s not nice, Danny.” Chellie wasn’t my favorite person, but she was still a person and not here to defend herself, though I secretly sort of agreed with my roommate, remembering her comment about me wasting my talents wrapping Christmas gifts for homeless children.

  “Well, it’s true.” I could hear her licking her fingers and figured she’d finished her sandwich. “So what are you doing exactly?”

  “Mike is coming over after Italian class tonight to help me organize. It’s one of my resolutions.”

  “Right. So why are you cleaning? Your room isn’t messy and you never clean before Mike comes over.” She had a point.

  Why was I cleaning?

  I woke up this morning and knew something had changed between us. My head was resting on his chest, and I was wrapped in his arms. He kissed my forehead and said, "Good morning," as if we'd woken up like this every day for the past three years. We joined the rest of Mike's family in the kitchen where everyone was also still in their pajamas. Mike's dad flipped blueberry pancakes while he smack talked in preparation for our Scrabble rematch. Spending time with Mike like this made me happy, but not in a hanging with my best bud way. It was an I could really get used to this kind of way, and it made me feel guilty, confused, and incredibly selfish.

  "Hey, Danny. Steph is home for the break." It was a perfect way to change the subject and avoid answering her question. I peeked from under the bed, wishing I could have seen the look on her face. She uncrossed her feet, and I could tell she stood up straight.

  "Oh, yeah?" she said, trying to sound nonchalant. "How's she doin'?" Mike was The Nude Party's booking agent and got a bunch of tickets for Steph's birthday last summer. I invited my roommates and sparks definitely flew between Steph and Danny—she bought her the concert tee I saw her in yesterday. However, getting details out of Danielle Yang would be harder than extracting military secrets from a Navy SEAL.

  "She's great. She's home for the holidays, and I'm pretty sure she was going to hang out in New York for a few months.”

  “Hmm,” was her reply. “Well, I’ll let you get back to your denial cleaning. Tell Mike I said hi.”

  I watched her perfectly pedicured feet disappear from my room, but was still unable to shake her words. I was going to have to tell Mike that we'd have to dial back all the time we were spending together. He had a girlfriend, and I didn't want to risk losing our friendship.

  I'd tell him after class.

  “How are you learning so much Italian and I can barely say hello?” Mike laughed as I hung up his jacket and he sat on my bed.

  “Non lo so.” I shrugged. “Maybe it’s because you don’t pay attention.”

  “Well, teacher’s pet, that’s because I have to keep my eye on Professore Moretti.”

  I furrowed my brow at him. "You're crazy. He's just an excellent teacher."

  “Yeah, he has a few things he’d like to teach you.” He took my wrist and slowly pulled me close to him. Too close.

  “If I didn’t know any better, Captain, I would say you’re jealous.” I was smiling, but he wasn’t.

  "Maybe I am." He was holding both of my wrists, and I was standing between his thighs. "Could you blame me?" He searched my face for a response.

  My heart started pounding, and I knew it was time to say the thing that I didn't want to say.

  "Mike." My voice came out like a croak, and I cleared the lump in my throat and continued. “You have a girlfriend, and I love our friendship. These last few days have been amazing but super confusing, and I don't want to cross a line by doing something we'll regret. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?" My hands moved to his face, and I tangled my fingers in his beard, cradling his cheeks while I waited for him to answer. A smile slowly spread across his face adding to my confusion.

  "No," he said, and his smile never faltered.

  “No, you don’t understand…” I knitted my eyebrows together in confusion.

  "No, I don't have a girlfriend because Chellie and I broke up last Sunday. No, I don't love our friendship because I don't want to be just friends with you. I never have. Yes, spending these last few days with you have been amazing, but I'm not confused, and I would never regret crossing any line with you." I felt light-headed like someone could've knocked me over with a feather. Mike sensed it and pulled me into his lap. "You okay?"

&
nbsp; "You and Chellie broke up?" I asked, and he nodded. "The day after we wrapped gifts at the shelter?" I raised my eyebrows, and he nodded again.

  “Didn’t I tell you I was all yours?” He grinned and took my chin between his thumb and forefinger and pulled our faces closer.

  "Mike." I put my hand on his chest, and he paused. "I don't want to be a rebound."

  “Chellie was the rebound, not you, Stella. It was always you.”

  “Really?” I felt my eyes stinging with tears.

  "I was crazy about you, the moment you spilled that beer on me, and I saw those big beautiful chestnut eyes and heard you laugh for the first time." He smiled. "Now, I've been waiting three years to kiss you, so if you don't mind…"

  I had so many questions, but the moment I’d been wishing for was finally here. I’d have plenty of time to sort out my feelings. Now, I focused on one feeling.

  "Get on with it," I whispered in my best Eric Idle impression, and Mike chuckled before pressing our lips together.

  I wrapped my arms around his neck and straddled him, kissing and nibbling his soft lips while his mustache tickled me. Rough hands gripped my hips before finding their way under my sweater and massaging my bare flesh. His lips, tongue, and teeth made a trail of heat from my mouth, down my neck, and across my shoulder. I moaned against his lips and tangled my fingers in his hair.

  “Oh fuck, Jane,” he groaned and used his hands to grind me into his growing erection. “I want you to feel what you do to me. You’re so fucking beautiful. God, I want you. I want to be inside you.”

  "I want the same fucking thing." Heat pooled between my thighs as I pulled my sweater over my head and tossed it on the floor. Mike pressed his face between my breasts and grabbed a mouthful. He pulled away and reached behind his neck, grabbed his collar and pulled off his sweater, then his tee shirt. God, this man was beautiful. Every scoop of ice cream we'd ever eaten together must have burned up upon entry. Every mile run and weight lifted was etched into the chiseled frame I was exploring with fingertips.

  “Hey, Daydreamer. My eyes are up here,” he whispered with a sexy smirk, “are you sure about this?”

  I blinked and raised my eyes to his. “Mike, I’ve also been waiting three years to kiss you.” He grinned at me. “And I haven’t gotten laid in eighteen months, so…” I tucked my bottom lip between my teeth and raised my eyebrows.

  Mike stood with me in his arms, turned around and lowered us onto my bed, pressing our lips together. I relaxed into my mattress as he set my neck and collarbone on fire with feather-light kisses. He began to kiss a trail down my chest, before removing my bra and focusing attention on each of my breasts, alternating licks and sucks with gentle caresses. I moaned and writhed in anticipation. His mouth moved lower, and he swirled his tongue around my navel making me gasp.

  "So sensitive," he sighed, tickling me with his warm breath. "Are your roommates home?" He planted a kiss on my soft belly, and I shook my head unable to speak. "Good, because it's gonna get loud in here." He bit his lip and grinned up at me. The waistband of my jeans loosened as Mike unzipped them and tugged them down my legs.

  Thank God I shaved this afternoon.

  He let out a low growl at the sight of my panties making every muscle between my legs throb and I knew they were soaked. He tugged them down, separated my knees, and lowered his face between my legs.

  Oh my God. Was this really happening?

  Mike’s beard was grazing the skin of my thighs and I could feel his warm breath caressing as he kissed his way to my aching sex.

  "Holy shit," I whispered. Mike separated my lips with his tongue and circled my clit, teasing me with the promise of an orgasm, but not quite delivering. Every time I would feel him driving me to the edge, his tongue would disappear lower; swirling over the pucker of my asshole or pressing his rigid tongue in my opening and lapping up the juices.

  He wasn't kidding about me being loud. I was never much for making noise during sex, but I couldn't help myself. Moans, screams, and curses escaped my lips, and I was begging Mike to make me come.

  His arms were wrapped around my thighs steadying me on the bed as I was flailing. Just when I was about to take matters in my own hands, literally, Mike slipped two fingers into me and pressed his tongue onto my clit. My entire body vibrated with an electric current, and I exploded into Mike's hand. He continued to taste me through my climax. When I finally stopped shaking, he planted a kiss on my inner thigh and sat up, wiping his chin and licking his fingers.

  “I didn’t know you were a squirter, Stella.”

  "Neither did I," I panted, and I couldn't stop smiling. He grinned.

  “I’m gonna go wash my face.” He stood to leave the room.

  “No, don’t.” I grabbed his arm and pulled him on top of me. “I smell good on you.” I ran my fingers through his beard, wrapped them around his neck, and pulled our faces together. “I taste even better.”

  "Damn, Jane," he growled. "You really are a sex-starved pervert. I thought you were all talk." He tickled me, and I giggled into his mouth. "How dirty can this get?"

  “There's only one way to find out.”

  Take A Road Trip

  six

  Soreness permeated every muscle in my body. I might have still been a little achy from ice-skating on Wednesday, but since Mike and I spent the previous night having the craziest sex I'd ever experienced, I was pretty sure I wouldn't be able to move for the foreseeable future.

  “Good morning, gorgeous.”

  "Good morning, handsome,” I rasped. My throat was also sore. Mike had a huge dick and trying to fit the entire thing in my mouth could have counted as my Number 18: Do Something Brave resolution.

  He rolled over, pulled me into his arms, and kissed me. “This makes two days in a row I woke up in your arms.” I smiled up at him.

  "Wanna make it a hat trick?" he asked, and I furrowed my brow, making him kiss my forehead until it relaxed. "I have to go out of town this weekend to see a new band. Come with me?"

  “Would this count as my road trip?” I asked making circles on his chest with my finger.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “But, we’ll miss Italian class tonight. Professore Moretti will be so disappointed.” I laughed.

  Mike narrowed his eyes at me and began kissing a trail down my belly and parting my legs with his hand. His thumb brushed over my clit, making me spasm.

  “He’ll live.”

  Mike picked me up at two, I mean he literally picked me up and put me in the cab of his truck, because I almost burst into tears trying to climb in. Four hours later, with one of Mike's road trip playlists, we were in Boston. We checked into a luxury suite at The Charles Hotel, and Mike flopped on the bed, pulling me on top of him. I rested my head on his chest, and he rubbed my back.

  “Still sore, gorgeous?” I could hear the pride in his voice.

  "Yes," I deadpanned, "but I'm getting better," I said in a quivering old man voice parroting a line from The Holy Grail. Mike’s chest shook with laughter.

  “I have to do some work before we go to the concert tonight, so I’m gonna set you up with some spa treatments because I don’t want you to be bored senseless and I feel bad for making you so sore.” He kissed my nose.

  “No, you don’t.” I picked my head up giving him a skeptical look.

  “No. I don’t.” He grinned and rolled on top of me growling.

  Mike’s arm was wrapped around my waist as we swayed in the middle of the floor of Brighton Music Hall listening to The Suicide Tacos play their third and final encore.

  “They’re fucking amazing,” I shouted in Mike’s ear. He planted a giant kiss on my lips, our first in a public place. My heart fluttered.

  “I know,” he said. “They’re gonna be fucking huge.”

  "With your help," I added. Mike gazed down at me, and the look in his eyes made me melt. He spun me around, wrapped his arms around my waist and kissed me again, this time lifting me off of my feet.

&nbs
p; “I’m glad you’re here.” His eyes pierced me as he slowly set me down, never breaking contact.

  “I’m glad I’m here, too.” I grinned at him.

  He slid our hands together as he led me backstage. We showed our VIP badges to a giant security guard who directed us to a large dressing room where The Suicide Tacos were hosting an after-party, catered by a place called Habanero’s Mexican Grill. Those tacos looked so delicious but I didn’t see anyone else eating, so I stuck close to Mike.

  “I’ll never understand how bands can party like this right after a show like that.” I shook my head, taking the bottle of Stella Mike held out to me.

  “Performance high. It takes a while to come down.”

  “Do you ever miss it?” I searched his face while he considered his answer.

  “Sometimes I miss being on stage, but everything else they can keep.”

  “You don’t miss the money?” I asked.

  “I still have the money.” He smirked.

  "What about all the pretty women throwing themselves at you?" I wrapped both my hands around the beer bottle, instantly regretting making that joke while I was standing in a room full of beautiful, cool people while wearing a Weird Sisters band tee, no makeup with shell-toed Adidas.

  "That hasn't stopped." He turned his body to face me. "Just last night the world's sexiest hobbit couldn't stop throwing herself at me." He grinned down at me, and I blushed. Only Mike could call me a sexy hobbit and make me want to rip his clothes off.

  "Mike Duke? Is that you?" a female voice asked with a laugh that sounded like a tinkling of a bell. We turned to look. I was taken aback by a tall, thin, and gorgeous redhead. She had piercing green eyes and full pouty lips that were covered in red lipstick. She was wearing a red long-sleeved shoulder-baring sweater which exposed her perfectly toned midriff—as if that made any sense—over a skin-tight black leather pencil skirt and four-inch black leather pumps covered in silver spikes. The soles of her shoes matched her sweater, and you'd think all of the red would clash with her long wavy hair, but it didn't. She looked perfect.