Chapter 24
Nate
CHRISTMAS LOVE
“That was…” I put down my fork on the empty plate. “The best meal I’ve had—”
“If you say ever, I’m going to know you are lying.
” She looks over at me, her face illuminated from the two candles in the middle of the table, as well as the tree that is also lit in the corner.
Even though the lights are still flickering on and off, I decided that we would eat by candlelight.
Especially when her face lit up as I walked back into the kitchen with four candles in my hand.
So, while I set up the table with the candles, she plated the pasta with the chicken. Bringing it over, she put the bigger plate in front of me, as I got us both some wine. “I was going to say that was the best meal I’ve had in a while.”
She picks up her glass of wine and it dangles in her hand side to side. “Good save.” She brings it to her lips and takes a sip. “Very good save.” The smile she gives me makes everything in me come to life.
“You know what we should do?” I pick up my own glass of wine and finish it. “We should play a game.”
“Oh?” She puts down her empty wineglass. “I like this already.”
“Of course you would.” I pick up the bottle of wine and fill her glass, emptying the bottle. “Unless you lose, then there’ll be hell to pay.”
“I can lose a game and be a good sport,” she counters and I snort.
“Tell me when that happened.” I push away from the table. “I need a date and time.”
“I don’t know the exact date or time,” she backpedals, picking up her glass of wine. “But the four of us were having a Connect Four tournament.”
My mouth hangs open when she brings up the memory. “You’re kidding, right?”
“It slipped out of my hands,” she defends herself. “Joshua put his face in front of me and—” She tries to hide the smile with the glass.
“And you picked up the Connect Four tower and bopped him on the head with it,” I remind her, and she looks to the corner of the room trying her hardest not to laugh. “He got five stitches at his hairline.”
“He was lucky I didn’t stab it in his eyeball,” she retorts. “He was taunting me the whole night. I win! I win! I win!” she mimics what she thinks his voice sounded like. “Loser.” She even uses her finger in an L on her forehead. “He taunted me. I had no choice but to defend my honor.”
“Your parents forbade us to play any more games ever. They threw out all the games.”
“And again, whose fault was that?” She waits for me to answer her, and when I take half a second longer than she wants me to take, she answers, “It was Joshua’s fault. It’s always Joshua’s fault for pushing my buttons.”
“Elizabeth.” I stop beside her chair to take her plate, and she looks up at me, and all I can do is bend my head and kiss her lips. “The minute you are going to lose, something comes over you.”
“I don’t like to lose,” she admits softly, her hand coming up to cup my cheek.
“Well, the good news is, the game we are going to play”—I turn and walk back into the kitchen, putting the plates in the sink—“there are no winners or losers.”
Her face goes into a grimace. “I already don’t like it. There is always a winner and a loser.”
“This one, we can all be winners,” I clarify and she fake vomits.
“That’s like everyone should get a trophy, which sucks.” She shakes her head. “If I win, I win. I want to be the only one with a trophy. Not have everyone else with a trophy so they don’t cry.”
“Wow.” I try not to laugh at her. “Let’s not have you be in charge of the children at the wedding.”
She pffts but takes a sip of wine. “What can I do to help speed this game playing and me winning along?”
“You can go and sit on the couch and look at the beautiful tree and wait for me.” I point to the Christmas tree in the corner, which lights up the room. I clean up the kitchen but she puts her glass on the table and comes over to help me. “I thought I told you to go and sit on the couch.”
“Nate,” she says my name and her tone is playful, “the only time I want to follow your orders”—she looks up at me—“is when you tell me to get on top or when you tell me face down, ass up.”
My cock immediately gets hard at her words. “Good to know.” Those are the only lame words I can say. I can’t even follow that up with my own dirty talk because I’ll forget all about cleaning the kitchen and throw her over my shoulder.
“There”—she points to my face—“right there, what were you just thinking?”
“Why?” I ask her.
“Your eyes changed, and the softness was gone out of your face.” She takes the pot from the stove and then looks for a Tupperware to store the rest of the pasta in.
“I’m not telling you my deep personal thoughts.” I rinse off the plates and put them in the dishwasher.
“It was about me”—she chuckles—“and sex.”
“How do you know that?” I ask her.
“You had almost the same look on your face as when you jumped into the shower with me.” She looks over at me as she stores the leftovers in my fridge.
“I guess you’ll just have to wonder what it was about,” I mumble not ready to give in to her and admit she was right.
She’s wiping down the counters while I’m rinsing the sink. “Okay, now that we’re done, let’s play.”
“We need another bottle of wine,” I tell her, walking over to the cabinet and taking a bottle out, “unless you want to do something else.”
“Wine is good.” She takes her glass and my glass off the table and walks to the couch. “It’s still coming down out there pretty hard.”
“Yeah.” I open the bottle and toss the cork on the counter before walking over to her and pouring some in her glass and some in mine. “Okay, so let’s play Never Have I Ever.”
I sit beside her on the couch, turning my upper body to face her while she sits in the corner, her legs curled under her. “If you have done what the other person has never done, you take a sip of wine.”
“Got it,” she says with a smirk. “I’m so going to win.”
“I’m hoping that we fuck on the couch so we can both win.”
She throws her head back and lets out a laugh, and for the life of me, I can’t tell you a better sound I’ve heard in my life.
Actually, scratch that, the way she says my name when I slide into her.
That’s the best fucking sound, but her laughter is an easy second.
“Okay, who goes first?” she asks with a twinkle in her eye. “Are we doing spicy Never Have I Ever?”
“We can,” I say, willing to give her anything to keep her smiling like that. “We can also take a drink and then strip a piece of clothing off.”
“Now this is a game,” she cheers. “Who is going first?”
“You can go first.”
“Okay.” She looks to the side thinking. “Never have I ever gone skinny-dipping.” She smirks at me.
“I’m not drinking,” I tell her and she laughs. “That was unintentional skinny-dipping.”
“Ummm,” she clarifies, “I wasn’t talking about that time.” She points at me. “I was talking about when we went on vacation one summer, and the guys thought it would be a good idea to go streaking down the beach and then into the water.”
“Fuck,” I swear when I think back. “Fine, I have, so I will drink.” I take a sip of wine. “You’ve never gone skinny-dipping?”
“No!” she gasps out. “My biggest fear is one, someone steals my clothes and I have to end up walking around naked, and two, it’s so dark and that is where danger lies. You have to take something off.” She points at me and I hand her my glass as I pull off my shirt.
“Okay, my turn,” I declare, taking back my glass and tossing her my shirt as she lays it on her lap. “Never have I ever faked an orgasm.”
She gasps again. “That’s not fair.” I wink at her and she tilts her head, and I know now it’s on.
She takes a sip of her wine and then I point at her, my finger going up and down, waiting to see what she is going to take off.
She hands me her glass the same way I handed her mine, and she takes off the sweater she is wearing, leaving her in black tights and a black sports bra.
“Your turn,” I say with glee that I at least won one question.
“Never have I ever hooked up with one of my friends’ siblings.
” I look up at the ceiling and I can’t help but laugh at her.
“You can just chug the whole glass now,” she tells me and I take a sip before I put my glass down on the table and get up, peeling off my pants and tossing them to her, leaving me in boxers and my socks. “Looks like I’m going to win.”
I pick up my glass. “Never have I ever used a dating app for the sole purpose of hooking up with someone.” I point at her.
She slaps the couch. “That is not fair.” The words come out of her as a hiss. “How else was I supposed to meet someone when I went to an all-girls summer camp?”
“Not my problem.” I smile big at her. “I’ll take your pants.”
She scoffs at me, “Like hell you will.” She takes a sip of her wine and then throws me her sports bra. “If your nipples can be out, so can mine. My turn.” She taps her glass as she thinks. “Never have I ever ghosted someone after sex.”
“Yes, you have.” I point to her. “You ghosted me.”
“That was not me ghosting you,” she denies. “This game is so dumb.”
“It’s dumb because you’re playing to win and not for fun,” I tell her. “Okay, my turn. Never have I ever had multiple orgasms in a row.”
“Motherfucker,” she hisses at me, finishing the glass of wine in her hands, “that’s cheating.” She puts the glass down and peels off her pants, leaving her in just her lace thong. “I hope you are happy with yourself.” She tosses the pants at my face, and I catch them.
“You’re naked on my couch.” I smirk at her. “I’m very happy with myself.” She fills up her glass again.
“Never have I ever used a sex toy with a partner,” she states, thinking she is going to win this round.
“I have never,” I admit to her and her eyes about come out of her sockets.
“You were in a relationship, and you never did that?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I knew she had a vibrator, but if she wanted me to see her use it, she would have told me.”
“That’s…” She shakes her head. “That’s on the top of my list for my next relationship,” she shares and the food I ate at dinner feels like it’s going to come up.
“What is your longest relationship?” I ask her and I don’t know why I am asking her; I don’t really want to know.
“Six months,” she answers and then shrugs. “I’m just too focused on my job to have time to do both.”
“That sounds—” I try to think of the polite words to say.
“It sounds sad.” She laughs at her own assessment of it. “I don’t know why I never took the step to get serious with someone. Maybe I knew that if I did, I would be sort of stuck there.”
“Has it ever felt like home to you?” I ask her and she thinks about the question.
“At times,” she admits to me, “then at times it sort of feels like I am just there biding my time.”
“You have a whole life there.”
“I do.” She takes a sip of her wine. “I have a house there. I have friends there. I have a job there.”
“But you have no family there.” My chest tightens for her. I don’t have any family left, but I have the Morrows, and they are as much my family as my blood family.
“But I have no family there.” Her voice trails. “I never thought of it that way.”
“You’re welcome,” I say and she laughs. “Also, I think I win.”
“Is that so?” She puts down her glass in the middle of the table and then comes over to me, grabbing my glass and putting it with hers, before she comes back to me and I turn to face her.
She puts one knee on the couch beside one hip and then does the same with the other, straddling me. “Are you sure about that?”
She puts her hands on my shoulders as I grip her hips. “Oh, yeah.” I try not to smile as I run my hands up her bare back. “I definitely win.”
She puts her forehead on mine. “Now you have to make it up to me.” She tilts her head to the side.
“Oh, trust me,” I assure softly, “I’m planning on spending all night making it up to you.
” I chuckle but it’s silenced when her mouth is on mine.
I wrap my arm around her waist and turn her so her back is to the couch.
“I might as well start making it up to you now”—her hair is fanning all over my couch—“by giving you those multiple orgasms in a row.”