27. Maureen
Chapter twenty-seven
Maureen
I believed him.
That was the crazy part. After everything he’d put me through, every false start and years of misunderstandings, I believed him.
There was no preamble. Will grabbed my hand and tugged me out of Bren’s living room, leading me wordlessly down the hall to his apartment and straight to his bedroom door.
“You’re sure?” he asked.
I nodded, stepping over the threshold.
A bed frame, dresser, and nightstand in matching maple wood took up most of the space in the modest room, books and art supplies mingling haphazardly on the flat surfaces. Familiar gold pillows rested on top of an olive-green bedspread. On the floor, a small plastic tree with multicolored lights sat proudly, a twin to the one in the living room. Dark blue curtains blocked the cloudy sun from outside—the tree’s twinkling lights provided most of the illumination.
Somehow, the humbleness of the room elevated the hugeness of the moment.
Will pulled me to him as we stood next to his bed. “We can take it slow. Like I said, whatever you need.” He placed a steadying kiss on the apple of my cheek. “We’ve waited a long time for—”
“For us,” I finished his thought.
“Exactly.”
“You’re positive your head’s okay?” I asked, brushing my knuckles along his crown.
“I mean, my big one is. The little one could use some attention.” He pumped his eyebrows.
I cracked up. “That was bad.”
“Maybe so, but it’s true.” Levity turned quickly to urgency as he wrapped his fingers around my wrist and moved my hand to the bulge in his sweats. Through the material, I felt the heat of him stir beneath me. He closed his eyes and exhaled, sucking in his bottom lip.
The press of my hand grew firmer. More assured. I rubbed over the soft cotton before trailing my fingers up to pull at his waistband. As our lips met in a fiery kiss, I pushed his pants down over the erection straining his underwear. Keeping us melded together, he helped me tug down his bottoms before kicking them away. His small black boxer briefs did nothing to hide his excitement.
We detached for a moment so he could pull his shirt over his head, and I did the same with my sweater, standing before him in jeans and a lacy black bra.
He reached out to run his fingers reverently down my arm before leaning in to kiss me again.
His tongue delved into my mouth, bold and searching, and I welcomed it like a starving person. The way he made me feel in his arms was everything. Like he couldn’t get enough. As his demanding tongue tangled with mine, his fingertips grazed the top of my jeans. He released the button with a pop before pinching the zipper between his thumb and pointer finger, lowering it slowly.
Within moments, he’d removed the rest of my clothes and his own. All the while, we never stopped kissing. Will’s kiss was an intoxicating contradiction—tender and, at the same time, relentless. His obvious need drove each press of his lips, every swipe of his tongue. It consumed me wholly.
We stood. Our bodies slotted together perfectly. He ground his erection against my center. Even though Will wasn’t a tall man, he had a decent-sized cock, thick and dark pink, and my instinct at seeing it slap back against his stomach was to lower to my knees in front of him.
He sensed my movement and reached out to stop me, grasping me lightly by the elbows. “I’m already close, and I…I’d like to be inside you. If you’re okay with that.”
I nodded, rising, relishing the erotic intensity of being eye level with him as he stared hungrily at me.
“ Oomph .” Without warning, Will showed surprising strength as he picked me up in a bridal carry and placed me gently on the mattress.
Nestling my head on one of the soft gold pillows, I reached for him.
But he didn’t lay down.
My arm dropped as Will remained standing at the foot of the bed. He stared at me.
I’d thought his kiss all-consuming, but it paled compared to the feral, worshipful glint in his eyes as he raked his gaze over my naked body. Anticipation churned in my stomach.
Finally, he placed a knee on the edge of the mattress.
The bed dipped as he crawled upward like a stalking tiger, pale skin glowing in the dim room.
He pressed his mouth to my ankle. He kissed each of my calves and the backs of my knees, running his soft lips against the responsive skin there. I shivered as he worked his way up my thighs, kissing almost to my center—but not quite.
He continued up my body, languidly, hovering on all fours, straddling my hips as he leaned in to ghost his lips along my stomach. Propped on my elbows, I watched him move up my torso. The tree lights cast circles across my chest. Will kissed the colored dots one by one while keeping his eyes locked with mine.
He reached my breasts and sucked one into his mouth. I cried out.
“Wow. Sorry. It just…feels good.”
His grin turned wicked. “Maureen, I’m the landlord here, so you can go ahead and be as noisy as you want. I won’t be issuing any warnings.” He took the other breast into his mouth, sucking hard as I arched up and flung my head back against the pillows, using both hands to dig into his hair and hold him to me.
I moaned as I felt the first brush of his fingers at my center.
It was his right hand, and I knew it was a big deal for him to be touching me so intimately with it.
His middle finger breached me, filling me on the inside while his thumb and index fingers circled my clit. My orgasm came suddenly—forcefully—and when it happened, I grabbed his wrist to press his hand firmly against me, both of us uncaring of his scars as I ground out the last of my pleasure against his palm.
He leaned down to kiss me softly.
As I recovered, sated but aching to feel him inside me, he reached across my body to grab a condom from the nightstand. He held it up. “Still okay?”
I nodded eagerly. “C’mere.”
Once sheathed, he wasted no time entering my wet and willing body. The sensation of him sliding home electrified my veins like a completed circuit. My hammering pulse beat out my thoughts. Now. Finally. At last .
Will rocked his hips, his intense gaze demanding my own. He reached between us to circle my clit again. It took a few minutes, and I could tell he held himself back with some difficulty, but eventually, I got there, coming hard as I shuddered and bucked against him. A second later, he groaned, and I felt the warm tide of his release as he filled the condom.
“Goddamn,” he said, rolling to the side. He deftly took off the condom and tied it up, tossing it into a small garbage can. “That was amazing.”
Laying my head on his chest, I reached for his hand and joined our fingers together, rubbing my thumb across his scars.
“I almost don’t want to ask because I don’t want you to stop,” Will whispered. “But why do you do that? Touch my messed-up hand so much?”
“Because I can tell you need it.”
His reply was a drawn-out exhale.
We lay there a while, not daring to break the moment. Eventually, Will got up to wet a washcloth with warm water. He pressed it between my legs. I’d never allowed a lover to perform this intimate task, but he seemed to revel in every chance to touch me.
“I’m fine if you want to stay in my bed all day,” he said with a grin. “In fact, you’re welcome to crash here until you find a new place if you want.”
“Bren might have some objections to that.” I smiled back at him. Not to mention, I wouldn’t be finding a new place. I’d be returning to Coleman Creek in less than two weeks. I promised myself I’d tell him later that day. Sometime when we weren’t naked.
“Maybe you can talk to her. I can be a good boy and share.”
“We’ll see.”
Will stood, tossing the washcloth into a laundry basket in the closet. “But if you’re cool with getting up, I actually have something I’d like to do with you.”
“Something more interesting than whatever we can get up to in this bed?”
He barked a laugh. “Not gonna lie. I could probably live in this bed with you for the next week if you’d let me. But I want to show you something before we go under the covers without coming up for air.”
“What is it?”
“A surprise. Something Christmas-y.”
“More Christmas-y than baking ten dozen gingerbread men?”
“Even better.” His intense expression belied his light words.
“Um, okay. Why did your face just get all serious?”
He pulled on a fresh pair of boxer briefs. “Because. You told me less than two hours ago you didn’t think I was truly ready to be with you. I know we talked through it, but I think I have another way to reassure you.”
“Other than doling out mind-blowing orgasms?”
He chuckled. “Let’s say it’s complementary to that.”
“Alright,” I agreed, curious. “Let’s do something Christmas-y.”
An hour later, Will turned his car into an industrial neighborhood south of downtown. Warehouses and nondescript office buildings made up most of the area, lifeless other than a few lonely strands of holiday lights. He pulled up next to a three-story concrete building with steel letters in front that read “Custodial Solutions.” I wondered what any of this had to do with Christmas, or Will for that matter, as he came around to open my door.
“It’s over here,” he said, pointing at a wall next to the neighboring parking lot.
Dried brown grass crunched beneath our shoes as we walked in that direction. Graffiti and square blocks of gray paint covered most of the wall’s surface, although there were several worn attempts at actual art.
Will gestured to an extremely faded section. “Can you make out what this one is?” he asked.
I studied the piece he’d indicated. A few chunks of concrete had chipped off along the top, yet it remained relatively intact, the tags nearby touching but not overlapping or distorting it.
“I guess it looks like the Grinch,” I said, hovering my hand above my brow to block out the wintery sunlight. “Or, actually, three Grinches. Making some, um, interesting hand gestures.”
“It’s mine,” Will spoke matter-of-factly. “I was working on this the night of my accident.”
He took out his phone and held it up. “I come every December and take a picture. I’m always a little shocked it’s still here and that no one has painted over it.” He gave a self-deprecating little chortle. “Maybe next year my luck will run out.”
“I don’t think it’s too much of a mystery,” I said, inspecting the wall. “This is a work of art, done by an obviously talented artist. Sometimes people just respect that. Like they would if it was a commissioned work.”
He huffed playfully. “Can you imagine the city commissioning a painting of the Grinch flipping the bird?”
“You never know.” I smiled. “And the ending piece is—that’s ‘I love you,’ right? In sign language? Maybe it would be cool because you ended it on a hopeful note. Like, at first the Grinch is being a dick, but then he ends it with ‘I love you.’ And that’s kind of what Christmas is about, isn’t it? His story. Being inspired by the season to be the best version of yourself.” I gestured to the final Grinch, less faded than the other two.
A strangled noise came from him. He looked as though he’d been struck.
“Will? Are you okay?”
“I’m good,” he rasped out, shaking away his expression. “It’s just… I’m always amazed at how thoroughly you get me. I guess I should stop being surprised by it at this point.”
I grinned again. “You’re saying I correctly interpreted your artistic intention?”
“Nail on the head.”
I pointed at the phone he still held. “Why do you take the picture?”
He paused, tracing the first Grinch with two fingers. “Because I don’t want to forget. It reminds me—even though that Christmas eleven years ago was total shit, I made it through, just like this painting.”
I nodded in understanding. “In some ways, it’s like we can track the stages of our lives by how we remember the holidays. And by the objects that remind us.”
“This mural is always the Christmas I had my accident.”
“It’s the Christmas you survived your accident,” I countered. “And I’m sure other things make you think of the good Christmases, too.”
Will chuckled. “Sure. When I was six, I got this massive Ninja Turtle setup I totally wasn’t expecting. My parents aren’t much for pranks, but they had me believing I’d only be getting books that year. It’s still in a box at their house.”
“Marley is Christmas-crazy, so she puts up mountains of decorations and photos. They help me remember the good stuff—presents, matching pajamas, baking, letters to Santa, going to all the Coleman Creek events. Still, there’s no getting away from thinking about the Christmas after my dad died or the first year my mom was too sick to come out of her bedroom and look at the tree.”
Will exhaled quietly, eyeing the faded wall. “But even those Christmases that were a little sad, you wouldn’t want to forget them, would you?”
“No.”
The pieces started clicking together in my head.
“Will, why did you bring me here?”
He stuffed his fists in his pockets, staring at the Grinches. “Because five Christmases ago you got under my skin in ways I didn’t fully comprehend. Every time I drove by Musicbox or ate at a Denny’s or heard that Waitresses’ song, I remembered. And it was painful, but I wouldn’t have changed having those memories wash over me for anything.”
His words lingered in the chill air, brushing through the last edges of my doubts.
Gathering myself, I reached a hand to his shoulder. “I feel the same way,” I admitted. “Even when I hated you, I never wished I hadn’t met you.”
“And then last Christmas happened.”
“When James made a fool of himself onstage in front of all our friends and neighbors?” I grinned.
He reached a hand up to place it over mine. “Last Christmas wasn’t just James singing to declare his love for Marley. That’s their story. To me, last year will always be the time I got to see you again, when I allowed myself to hope there might be another chance for us to be in each other’s lives.” His voice caught before he continued, “Second chances aren’t always guaranteed.”
I nodded, understanding that he thought about his friend Riley. “I know.”
Will exhaled, smiling slightly. “I realize now we’re not defined by our most painful memories, or our worst choices. We’re not the sum of everything that’s wrong with us.” Using my belt loops, he pulled me into his arms. “Which brings us to this Christmas.”
“This Christmas?” I leaned into his touch.
Hugging me tightly, Will pressed his cheek to mine as he spoke into my ear. “This is the Christmas you found out how much I love you.” He bit the lobe gently.
“Will—” I breathed out huskily.
“I mean it, Maureen. I’m so in love with you. And I didn’t want to wait another second to tell you, to risk having one more day where you didn’t know how thoroughly you hold my heart.” He placed a soft kiss on my lips. “This is our comeback, Maureen. The Christmas we claim our happiness, where we decide not to let it become another faded memory.”
“Oh, Will.” I wasn’t ready to say it back—even though I felt it to the marrow of my bones—but the words felt inadequate in that moment. Instead, I crushed my mouth to his, putting all my pent-up fears and worries into it, knowing we could share those burdens.
Pulling back, he gazed at me and ran a thumb tenderly along my cheekbone. “You know what else I’ll remember about this Christmas?” he asked.
“What?”
“It’s the best one I’ve ever had.”