Twisted Christmas
Page 40
Oh, he’s going there.
I let out a caustic laugh and cross my arms. “You’re being an asshole. We were out having fun, something we’re entitled to as adults.” I pin him with a glare. He’s so close that I can see the flecks of gold in his eyes. “Or did you forget we’re old enough to make our own decisions now?”
Something flashes in his dark irises, causing me to swallow and stiffen, to lean away from him. “No, I definitely did not forget,” he says, his voice low. So, so different from just a second ago. For the third time, his eyes rove down my body. Slowly. Savoring it this time. When his eyes find mine again, he almost looks afraid. My breathing halts, and the spot between my leg’s throbs.
I. Am. On. Fire.
He clears his throat. “Next time, just make sure you answer my texts. I was going out of my mind.”
I was going out of my mind.
I roll his words around in my head. “Why are you really angry, Blake?” I cock my head. “Was it because your adult daughter was having a good time, or because she was out with me?” I ask, my smile turning feline. “It doesn’t seem like you have a problem with her drinking. It seems like you have a problem with me, Mr. Cooper.”
The way he curls his hands, with his nails digging into his palms, tells me everything.
He moves one step closer, so that we’re practically touching. I can smell him—the minty scent strong enough to discern, but subtle. There’s a hint of something else underneath it—something that’s all him. Something that makes me want to lick his skin, to breath him in, to consume him. His chest rises and falls, just like mine, and he tilts his head as he studies me closely, eyes narrowed.
“I do have a problem with you, Ms. Chambers. I just can’t quite put my finger on why.”
His words cause goosebumps to erupt on my skin, and I inhale sharply.
I was going out of my mind.
I was going out of my mind.
I was going out of my mind.
I open my mouth to retort, but I hear the toilet flush from the bathroom. I wait for Blake to move away from me, but he just takes the tiniest step closer—until he’s right up against me. I gasp when I feel something large and hard pressing against my stomach, and I swear, I nearly faint. Gasping, I move my hand to his chest to push him, but he grabs it, pulling me into him instead. Bending down, he whispers into my ear.
“Next time, don’t wear a dress that makes every man in this city want to fuck you.”
And then he’s gone, and I’m left wanting to feel him against me again.
Chapter 6
Wren
* * *
I wake up the next morning after eleven, and the smell of coffee hits my nostrils. I groan, slapping a hand over my throbbing forehead. Felicity moans from next to me, and when she turns to face me, her skin is nearly green in color, and she has her hands over her eyes.
“Oh my god,” she croaks. “I don’t remember anything from last night.”
I laugh, but the movement causes me to feel like my forehead is splitting in two. “Well, we got hammered, made friends with some German guys, danced and cried to some Taylor Swift, and then your dad came storming in to get us around three in the morning.”
She chuckles. “Oh, god. I bet that was a sight. Did you see the vein pop in his forehead? That’s how you know he’s really angry.”
No vein, but I squeeze my eyes shut at the memory of his erection against me.
So wrong. It was so, so wrong. Yet, at the time, I wanted more of it. He’s my teacher—and my best friend’s dad. How could I ever think that wanting him in that way would be appropriate?
“No, but he did yell at me.”
She lets out a frustrated sound. “Sorry. He’s overprotective.”
“He doesn’t like me,” I add, frowning.
“He doesn’t like anyone,” she responds, and we both laugh until we’re crying out in pain from the exertion.
It takes me almost an hour to feel like I’m not on a boat, about to be sick over the side. I shower and get ready. Blake isn’t here—he’d texted Felicity that he was out at one of the museums.
Sulking, probably, like a big baby.
I run down the street and get us some soup from the Chinese restaurant—it’s the only thing that sounds good, as the thought of real food makes us both want to vomit—and we spend the afternoon watching reruns of Sex and the City with Czech subtitles as we doze and eat a million fortune cookies. I use the restroom, and when I get back, I notice Blake sitting on the couch with Felicity with his arm over her shoulder. I watch them for a few minutes. He kisses her temple at one point, and it’s then that I see the TV flash to New York and Times Square.
I’d completely lost track of the days, because apparently, it’s New Year’s Eve.
I’m just about to walk back into the living area, when Blake stands. He turns, and he immediately locks eyes with me, sending a cascade of electricity running down my limbs. Striding over to me, he nods to my bedroom, and I turn to walk inside. He follows me in and closes the door behind him. Again, shivers work down my spine at the thought of his length against me.
At what he said to me.
I was going out of my mind.
Next time, don’t wear a dress that makes every man in this city want to fuck you.
“First, I want to apologize for my behavior, and for what I said last night,” he starts, placing a hand behind his neck and massaging it. “It was inappropriate, not only because you’re Felicity’s friend, but because I’m your teacher.” His eyes look at me with desperation. “Because you’re my student,” he emphasizes, and I swallow.
I cross my arms. “Thank you. I don’t really remember last night.”
Lies.
Something like shock, or perhaps disappointment, flashes on his face for just a second before it disappears—replaced by his usual, cool demeanor.
“Okay. Well, that’s good. Second, I wanted you to know that I don’t have a problem with you, specifically. It’s just that you get under my skin for some reason, and I take it out on you, and that’s unfair.”
I give him a small smile. “Thank you.”
“And third…” He sighs, looking away. “You know what? Fuck it. If you don’t remember, I’m not going to embarrass myself and apologize for—”
“I remember.”
My words cause him to stiffen. “Oh?”
“I lied. I remember everything.” I can’t help but flick my eyes to his pants briefly.
“Fuck.” He sighs, covering his face. “I’m really sorry for that.”
“Why?” The word slips out before I can even register I’m saying it. “It’s not a crime to be attracted to someone—”
“I’m not attracted to you,” he says quickly.
My face falls, and heat fills my cheeks, my chest—
I’m so, so stupid—
“I just mean,” he says with hesitation, his eyebrows furrowed, “that I can’t be attracted to you.”
The sting of his words causes anger to flood through me. Embarrassment. To push himself against me, and then tell me the next day that he can’t be attracted to me? I hate games, and this feels like a big fucking game.
I sigh. “Can’t? Or won’t?” I raise my eyebrows. “At least have the balls to admit it.”
I turn and walk out of the room.
Blake somehow convinces us to walk down the hill to the nearest bar for a New Year’s celebration. His only stipulation is that we have one drink—no more. Even though alcohol is the last thing Felicity and I want right now, we can tell that Blake really wants to make a night of it, so we oblige him. I change into modest jeans, boots, and a sweater, and Felicity keeps her leggings on, only throwing on her UGGs and an oversized sweater. I try not to laugh. She feels rougher than I do.
The air has somehow gotten colder, and it’s snowing lightly as we walk the two blocks to the bar. The fat flakes stick to everything, and I feel giddy at the prospect of a white New Year’s Day in Prague.
The night passes quickly, and we talk about the museum Blake visited today, as well as college, graduation, and our majors. I end up telling him my plans of going to NYU for history, and his face softens. I have to look away. When Felicity gets up to use the restroom, Blake stops playing with his beer bottle and clears his throat.
“NYU, huh? That’s exciting.”
I nod. “Yeah. I’d love to work in restoration, or maybe archaeology. I like the idea of doing something hands on. There’s a good Medieval Studies program at Columbia, so I’d love to go there for grad school. If I can get a scholarship.”
He almost gives me a full smile at that. “I went to Columbia. But that was over twenty years ago.”
Right.
I smile, and when I look over his shoulder, I spot Felicity talking to a guy that looks vaguely familiar. I realize with a start that it’s Hans, the German guy from the club last night. I don’t see his friend. Blake follows my gaze and looks behind him. The lines on his forehead deepen, and I see the way his lips thin. When he looks back at me, there’s a hint of annoyance on his face.
“Did you have fun last night?” he asks, finishing the rest of the beer. He must notice the confusion on my face, because he continues. “It seemed like you were having fun when I showed up.”
I knew it.
“I was.”
“Was?” he asks, the corner of his lips tilting upward.
I laugh and shake my head. “What am I supposed to say to that? Yes, I was having fun dancing with his friend,” I start, nodding to Hans. “And yes, you abruptly showing up to drag us home killed the vibe we had going,” I add, and the smile he’s giving me makes me want to flirt with him some more. “But truth be told, I think I had way more fun with—”
“Stop, Wren.” His words cause the smile to drop from my face. He sighs and puts his face in his hand. “If you admit that, I won’t be able to—”
“Ten, nine, eight, seven…”
Everyone is shouting numbers, and I realize with a sickening feeling that it’s the countdown to midnight. And arguing with Blake—as he denies whatever’s between us—is not where I want to be when I ring in the new year.
“Four, three, two…”
I glance over at Felicity. She’s dancing with Hans, her arms around his neck, and I see her tilt her chin up for a kiss.
Traitor.
“One!”
The bar erupts with shouting, and someone blows a horn. I flick my eyes to Blake, and he’s watching me with a firm expression, his eyes lowering to my lips as the patrons cheer and shout, some people kissing several people in a row. We could… and we could play it off…
Blake’s hand on the table clenches and then unclenches, and he licks his lips. I look away, massaging my throat so that I don’t think about what it would feel like to have his lips on my skin.
“Wren.”
My name on his lips and everything that’s happened in the last day come crashing down on me. I feel myself bolt upward before I can answer him; before I can process the things I’m beginning to wish for. I stalk past Felicity, who is still locking lips with Hans. Pushing against the bathroom door at the back of the bar, I let out a frustrated growl when I realize it’s locked. I turn around, and as I do, a strong, hard body presses me against the wall. Soft lips crash against mine intensely before I can protest.
Blake.
I moan as his tongue parts my lips, and then my whole body begins to tingle as his leg knocks my knees apart like a pro, all the while his hands pin mine above my head. He smells fresh, and his lips feel like warm velvet. He presses into me again, and this time, I know why he spread my legs.
Because he can move himself against me, his firmness fitting perfectly between my legs.
Nothing like Taylor—not a boy, but a man.
A man who knows what he’s doing.
“You drive me fucking crazy,” he snarls, and I swear, if I feel him move against me again, I’m going to pull him into the bathroom with me.
All I can do is moan in response. We’re both panting as he kisses me, and I pull my hands down so that I can run them through his hair—his dark, thick hair. He hums into my mouth as my fingertips graze his scalp, and I can’t get enough of him—of his mouth on mine, of the feel of his hard body, of the forbidden aspect making everything sweeter, because neither of us knows when we’ll get to do this again.
I pull away slightly, looking at his crazed expression. “Blake,” I plead.
He must understand, because one hand cups my ass as he grinds against me, and oh fuck, I can feel his thick cock rubbing me through my jeans.
“Fuck me,” I whisper. “I want you inside of me.”
I don’t even care that I’m begging. I just want him—however I can get him. I know if I don’t, I’ll never be able to replicate this feeling with anyone else.
He pulls away suddenly, taking a few steps backward. “Wren,” he says softly, and I know in an instant what he’s about to say. “This is wrong. You’re Felicity’s friend, you’re my—”
“Student?” I accuse, my voice a little too shrill. I cross my arms as tears sting my eyes. “And? I’m an adult.”
A smile tugs at his lips, and I hate him for it. “Barely. And I could lose my job.” He looks down. “And my daughter.”
Fuck.
I take a deep breath. He’s right. I know he’s right. I’m just overcome with lust—this isn’t me. Is it? Am I the girl who kisses her history teacher? Am I the girl who sleeps with her best friend’s dad?
Felicity.
I could lose Felicity.
The rational part of my brain is screaming to behave, yet… every other part of me wants him. Every other part of me needs to feel him again.
“I want to go back to the apartment,” I say quickly, feeling the bile rise in my throat. “Can I have the keys?”
Blake watches me for a second before nodding, pulling them out of his pocket. “Happy New Year, Wren.”
I take them from him without responding.
Chapter 7
Wren
* * *
Felicity and Blake come home about an hour later, but I’m tucked into bed, pretending to sleep. My heart is still racing when Felicity crawls in beside me a few minutes later, and I squeeze my eyes shut when I think about losing her—about what Blake and I did tonight. For almost four years, she’s been by my side—breakups, makeups, school, our first jobs, our first cars, rolling joints, drinking at parties together, and now, finally, spending our last Christmas together in Europe.
And I ruined it all by kissing her dad.
I toss and turn most of the night, and by the time the sun begins to peek through the window shade, I’m out of bed and making coffee in the kitchen. Blake is already up, and he’s sitting at the dining room table reading a book. I have to do a double take.
“Excuse me, but is that The Other Boleyn Girl?” I ask, gobsmacked.
He doesn’t look up at me, instead choosing to smile and shrug as he turns the page.
“It’s actually quite entertaining.” I open my mouth to retort, but he beats me to it. “Completely inaccurate, but entertaining. I’ll give it that.”
I twist my lips to the side, tilting my head as I study the cover. “That’s not my copy. Did you actually go out and buy your own?”
He laughs. “It reminded me of you.”
I was going out of my mind.
I swallow. I don’t want to ruin this—us, talking like normal people. I don’t want to bring up last night, or how I woke up aching for him, nearly gasping for air. I don’t want to make the perfect moment weird or make him uncomfortable. It’s easier to just ignore it, to move it to th
e back of my mind while I get ready for my day.
So that’s exactly what I do.
I make us all a large breakfast and seeing as Felicity and I haven’t eaten since last year, we go back for seconds. I shower and get ready for a day of exploring, and Felicity does the same. I don’t look at Blake for too long, and the instant Felicity runs back into the bedroom for a hat, I make an excuse about my scarf so I can leave the room. I don’t trust myself alone around him, and I want today to be fun.
We spend the day strolling the city, perusing the shops that happen to be open, and enjoying the light, beautiful snow. We technically only have six days left here, so I try to make the most of it. We decide to cook dinner tonight, and I nearly drop the glass of water I’m holding when Felicity says she invited Hans and Anders over to eat.
“What?” I ask, shocked.
“What?” Blake repeats, his voice hard.
She looks between us, startled. “What? I thought it would be fine.” Her eyes land on mine. “I figured since you and Anders were having so much fun the other night, that we could invite them over for a casual dinner.” Her eyes land on her dad. “Please?”
He doesn’t look at me as he sighs. “Sure, okay. But they can’t stay late. We’re taking an early train to Cesky Krumlov tomorrow, remember?”
“Thanks, dad! I’m going to go get ready.”
And then she’s gone, leaving Blake and I alone. I shift my gaze to him, but he’s looking down at the floor. I’m afraid he’s going to tell me how much of a mistake last night was, so I mumble something about changing my shirt and start to turn to follow Felicity into our bedroom, when Blake clears his throat.
“Wren.”
I freeze at his words, turning around slowly to face him. Crossing my arms, I tilt my head.
“Yeah?”
He shifts uncomfortably. “For what it’s worth, I would’ve kept going.” He looks up at me, pinning me beneath his dark gaze. “Last night. I wouldn’t have stopped.”
I swallow, seeing the memory so vividly in my mind. Our hands, our mouths, feeling him against me, how practiced he was with me, how I was putty in his hands. I squeeze my eyes shut to block it out. Because the fact is, I wouldn’t have stopped either. I don’t think I could’ve stopped; had it been left up to me.