Chapter 5 Nova
Nova
I’m not usually a believer in fate, but I don’t know what else to call this.
How do I go from feeling hollow—bracing myself to spend the holidays alone—to suddenly standing in the home of a man I’ve nursed a crush on for what feels like forever?
One minute, I’m lonely; the next, I’ve got a warm meal in my stomach and tingles running through me like I’m plugged into a string of Christmas lights.
I feel young again. Like those Christmas Eves when sleep was impossible, when excitement hummed under my skin, and waiting felt unbearable.
Only now, it’s not presents I’m desperate to wake up to—it’s him.
The thought of losing even a moment with him tugs at something tender in me, holding me captive with a quiet, beautiful ache.
Stirring where I stand, I feel useless as he moves around me. Now that we’ve left the kitchen, and the night is growing late, there’s only one thing left to do.
I should settle down before I start buzzing. He’s going to notice at this rate.
Instead of watching him move like I want to, my eyes drift to the side as I bounce from one foot to the other.
“Can this thing really fit two people?” Taking in the recliner, I remember the way it easily swallowed me up. If this is really where I’ll be sleeping, something tells me that I’m about to get one of the best sleeps of my life.
It’s already so worn in, molded to Mason’s body, smelled like him, too, like smoke and pine.
He grunts as he prepares the fireplace, giving me some kind of non-committal answer. After going out of his way to hunt down a blanket, he’s going back and forth, going over the top to make sure I’m comfortable.
Once he’s dusting his hands free and standing tall, I nudge the chair with my hip. “Willing to sit? I’m not outright calling you a liar here, but I don’t believe you.”
Expecting him to call my request weird or strange, relief flickers when he doesn’t even lift a cautious brow. Instead, he does as I ask, returning to me. He follows my gaze before slowly taking a seat. Watching him swallow up the piece of furniture, I have to bite my bottom lip to contain my smile.
How does he do it? Everything he does pulls some kind of reaction out of me. Seeing him now, a delicious ache blooms low and demanding. Softly, it begs me to stop ignoring it.
This time… I might cave in.
“Can I?” All but whispering the words, my eyes fall to his lap. The longer I stare, the more I want to know if it feels as comfortable as it looks.
As his brows shoot up to his hairline, he doesn’t outright deny me. No, instead, he looks like he’s at a loss for words.
I’m a terrible person for taking advantage of this moment. Despite Mason going so far out of his way to help me, here I am, wanting things like this. Wanting things a neighbor has no right wanting.
Confused at first, he looks at the small gap that rests next to him. Too small to fit a second person. We both can see this; it’s an obvious thing. Yet, my patience shows I want to try anyway.
I don’t want to squish myself next to him. Why would I? There’s a seat staring right back at me.
“Your lap…” I say quietly, “There’s enough room for both of us.”
He blinks before his throat bobs. “You want to sit on my lap?”
Oh my, he’s going to make me spell it out, isn’t he?
“I’m just really curious, that’s all.” The lie flows out, and I shiver as I unconsciously step closer, my knee barely brushing his. “Is that weird?”
He shakes his head without thinking twice. His hands slide away from his thighs to give me room to climb on. Mason’s a mountain, I know this going in. Still, I’m out of breath once I crawl onto his lap. It takes all my strength not to melt against him right then and there.
At first, his body is completely stiff. Like he doesn’t know what to do with himself, his hands grip the armrests. Slowly, with each inhale, he tries to relax.
I should know better by now. Am I really going to keep making him uncomfortable? This is all because I’m such a greedy person, needing to swallow up any chance of contact I can get my hands on.
“Is this…” Sliding against him, his thighs feel so strong beneath me, easily supporting my weight. “…okay?”
His entire body vibrates with a grunt. Looking a little at a loss for words, his eyes dart around me like he can’t decide what he wants to look at. Finally, his eyes lift to meet my gaze.
For a few seconds, the only sounds happening are the small pops from the fireplace and our unsteady breathing.
“Nova…” As my name leaves him in a hoarse whisper, his scowl softens to the most I’ve ever seen. “Fuck…”
As the curse leaves him softly, I don’t have to ask him what the issue is. As I scooch closer to him, I can feel it. A thick, hard bulge presses right where I’m most sensitive. It catches me off guard at first, but once I realize how his body is reacting, heat spreads through my body.
Driven by an instinct older than time, I shift again, just a subtle roll of my hips, seeking more of that delicious pressure.
His hands clamp down against my hips when I try to move again, just to confirm my suspicions. Above his beard, his cheeks are dusted with a light pink. One little squeeze from him goes a long way.
“Just sit still.” Groaning softly under his breath, his brows pinch together. “This isn’t the position they had in mind when they made the chair.”
My eyes drop to his chest, watching the powerful rise and fall of it. My focus narrows to the buttons of his shirt, a neat line trailing down the hard plane of his stomach. I want to trace that path with my fingers. Would he let me unbutton a few of them to see what he’s hiding beneath?
My heart thuds in my chest, doing whatever the heck it wants. Flicking my eyes back up, I catch myself staring at his mouth. This close, I can see his beard is trying to hide his full lips.
Without thinking, I run my tongue along mine.
I want to kiss him.
After going this far, pushing boundaries, should I stop myself now?
Slowly, giving him every chance to pull away, I reach out to touch him.
One hand slides up the column of his neck, my fingers threading into the surprisingly soft hair at his nape.
The other hand cups his jaw, my thumb stroking the rough texture of his beard.
His eyes slam shut at the contact, a sharp hiss escaping his lips.
We’re both suffering, aren’t we?
“Nova,” he warns, but his voice is wrecked. His grip on my hips tightens, his fingers digging in, pulling me infinitesimally closer against the hard evidence of his desire. It feels like striking flint—one slow drag of my body against his and heat sparks everywhere.
“Please,” I whisper, my breath ghosting over his lips. “I really want to.”
He looks like the kind of man who’d shut this down with a single no. I’m ready for it. But instead, he lets go of my hip, cups the back of my neck, and drags me into his mouth—putting us out of our misery.
He presses his mouth to mine, his tongue grazing my lips before I can wrap my mind around these new sensations. A sudden gasp rises in my throat, but he swallows it effortlessly. His hold on me loosens slightly, and his body presses in, radiating warmth. I sense him melting just as fast as I am.
I move against him without conscious thought.
My hips roll in a slow, grinding rhythm against the hard ridge of his erection, a desperate demand for friction.
The thin fabric of my pajama pants and his jeans is a maddening, insufficient barrier.
Every nerve ending is on fire, screaming for more, for skin, for less.
“Fuck, you’re a needy little thing, aren’t you?” His voice is a ragged growl against my lips, more vibration than sound. The words should shame me. Instead, they fuel the inferno.
I am. I have to be.
A wave of heat, more intense than any that came before, crashes over me, stealing my breath and my reason. While it consumes us, my hands demand to find purchase.
Instead of plucking at my own pajamas, my fingers scramble for the buttons of his shirt. This is the obstacle. This is what stands between me and the feel of him. My fingers, clumsy and shaking, fumble with the first small flat button. It slips free. Then the second. The third.
Feeling the heat of his skin kiss my fingers, I realize what I’m doing. Stopping myself from continuing, I take the moment to enjoy what damage I’ve already done.
Pulling away from the kiss is a physical effort. I’m panting, my lips swollen and sensitive. My gaze drops to the patch of exposed skin I’ve created.
Bare, tan skin meets my gaze, my breathing hitches as I see a new part of him for the first time. One simple graze of my fingers reveals this man isn’t hard all over. No, he’s soft and warm, a combination that is addictive.
My gaze travels back up, meeting his. A dark flush paints his cheekbones now, his eyes heavy-lidded and blazing with a heat that mirrors my own. He’s watching me, his expression a complex mix of desire and something else… vulnerability?
I need to see more. He has to know that every inch of him is something I crave terribly.
My fingers move with renewed purpose, popping the remaining buttons until his shirt hangs open, revealing the full, breathtaking landscape of his torso.
His shoulders are broad, his arms big and burly, corded with muscles that speak of real work, not just gym vanity.
But it’s his stomach that truly undoes me.
It’s not some well-cut, defined six-pack I see on magazine covers.
There’s a softness there, a realness that is infinitely more compelling than any sculpted idol. He’s even more perfect than I thought.
I suck in a sharp, shaky breath, the air cool on my own heated skin.
“Nova,” he says again, but it’s not a warning this time. It’s a plea to put him out of his misery.
I don’t answer with words. I shove the heavy flaps of his shirt out of my way, my palms flattening against his warm skin.
I slide my hands up, over the dense curve of his pecs, feeling his heart hammering against my right palm.
I trace the line of his collarbone, the solid strength of his shoulders.
As I explore freely, a low groan rumbles around in his chest.
I look down at him, at this man who fills my vision and my world. His eyes are wild, and his big body is laid bare for me, trembling under my touch.
There is no one else.
I want Mason. I want him badly.
For the first time in years, I won’t be greedy and silently plead for a thousand things this Christmas. No, this time, it’ll be just him. Just this.
With only a couple more hours left before the holiday hits, there’s only one way to find out if I’ll be getting a present or not this year.