Chapter Six
I saw a nature documentary once. One of those why am I watching this ones where you follow some cute little furball around for twenty minutes only for it to get eaten by a wolf.
I don’t remember much. But what I couldn’t get over was how still animals could go once they’d been cornered.
Every inch of them motionless, like they weren’t even breathing. Just frozen. Waiting.
Exactly like Lara is now.
The words hang between us. To the point where it’s like I can feel them in the air. I don’t take them back. But I’m not going to take this any further if she’s not ready.
But then, like she realizes I mean every word, her expression opens, softens, and when she nods it’s a little shy and a little excited and completely and utterly Lara.
This is the part where I should probably take charge, but a sudden rush of nerves won’t let me. Luckily, as my confidence wanes, it seems to transfer to her, and she turns to face me, tucking her legs under her.
I wish the electricity was working. I know mood lighting is preferred for situations like this, but I want to see her fully. To take in every inch of her as she leans in, holding eye contact until the last second when her gaze flickers to my mouth.
My heart thuds as though reminding me I’m still alive. I tell myself to close my eyes, still not entirely sure whether or not I’m just having a really vivid dream, and then she’s there, her nose grazing mine and her lips light as a feather against me.
I wait for her to pull away, bracing myself not to follow, but then her breath hits my skin, and I feel the hot, wet flick of her tongue.
She catches my mouth in a kiss at the same moment my hands go to her knees. Her yoga pants are light enough that I can feel the heat of her beneath them, the softness of her body.
My pulse spikes, but she breaks away, reaching for the bottom of her sweater.
When she peels it over her head, I have the strangest feeling of déjà vu. Of being eighteen years old again on that warm September night.
I certainly feel like a teenager again, trying to look everywhere but where her breasts press against her thin camisole. She’s not wearing a bra.
“Is this just …” She hesitates as a small line forms between her brows. “Tell me this isn’t just a Christmas thing. That this won’t be weird tomorrow.”
“It won’t be weird tomorrow,” I confirm. “Or the next day. Or the day after that. And I’ll let you take as many blood samples from me as possible to prove it.”
“Be serious.”
“I am.”
“You keep staring at my boobs.”
“Because I’ve been thinking about them for ten years,” I admit, and she laughs this surprised laugh that makes me want to kiss her so badly, it physically hurts not to. But once and for all, I have to make her see.
“You’re my whole world,” I say simply. “And you have been since the moment I met you. And if you want to wait, I’ll wait. If you want proof, I’ll lay it down at your feet. Whatever you want, I’ll—”
Or she’s good now. I smile as she moves forward again, pushing me down into the blankets as she leans over me. I go with it. Of course I do. I’ll do whatever she wants. I always will.
“Just like old times,” I say. It’s meant to be a joke, but my voice comes out a bit hoarse, which will embarrass me greatly later, but I’m too distracted as I trail my fingers up her arm, watching the way her body reacts to mine.
The rising of soft, dark hair. The goosebumps followed by a shiver.
Up her shoulder, the arch of her neck, into the curls I’ve always loved.
Those curls fall over us as she bows her head, and I drop my hands down her back and up again, bringing her top with me as I go. This time, there’s no hesitation as she helps me take it off. No second thoughts as she takes my hand and shows me where she wants it.
For the longest time we stay just like that. Making out. Fooling around. Getting to know each other in a whole different way. And I think about how brilliant that is. How I thought I knew this woman from the inside out when really, I didn’t have a clue.
I didn’t know about the small moles she has on her ribcage. The way her skin flushes in the firelight. I didn’t know the noises she makes when I touch her. Didn’t know how she likes to be kissed. Where she likes to be kissed. Her neck, her throat. The delicate skin behind her ear.
It’s like a whole new Lara to learn and I plan to be the best student ever.
I wait until she’s practically melting into me before I make my move, grasping her waist and switching places.
She makes a pleased oomph sound as I settle her back down.
I find the crease of her knee and draw her leg up over my hip, and we both pause, taking each other in before her fingers flutter down my stomach, pausing at my waistband.
“Do you—”
“In my wallet.” I say the words so quickly that she bursts out laughing, but I just grin as I reach over to where I’d dumped my coat by the couch and take out the little foil packet before shucking my jeans off.
I lift myself off her as I do and she quickly raises her hips, shimmying out of her yoga pants.
“You sure?” I ask, and when she nods, I lose the boxers, too. And then we’re together. Just like we always should have been.
It’s more than I’ve ever felt before. All the pleasure doubled.
All the feelings like … I don’t even know how to describe it.
Only this. This is what it should be like.
Nothing compares to it. To her. And I knew it wouldn’t.
I knew all this time. All this time we’ve wasted made up for only with all the time still to come.
It’s a little disjointed, a little clumsy. But neither of us seem to mind. We trade smiles, we explore, and we tell each other what feels good. And when the pleasures spirals, we come down together, as close as two people can be.
A few minutes later, skin still flushed, but heart rate a little more normal, I press a kiss to her shoulder and brush back a curl.
“You know I’m in love with you,” I say. “In case I haven’t made that clear.”
“I know.” She runs a hand through my hair, just like I always wanted her to, and nestles into my chest. “I’m in love with you, too.”
*
A few hours later, when the sun begins to rise, Lara remembers the power bank in her suitcase, and I’m able to charge my phone. A neighbor knocks on the door a few minutes later – probably to update her about all the new crime in the area – and I’m reading through my messages when she comes back.
“Who was that?”
“Mr Kumar. Turns out it wasn’t just us who had a blackout last night.”
I wince. “Are you saying we should invite him into our pillow fort?”
“He just wanted to check on me. There’s an electrician working further down the road so we should be up and running any minute.”
“A minute, huh?” I lounge back on the couch, flashing her my most charming smile. “Guess we’ll have to be quick.”
She doesn’t answer, tucking a curl behind her ear. Sometimes, she’s too easy to read.
“You’re not going to get all shy on me, are you?”
“No,” she mumbles, sitting a little too primly.
And that won’t do at all, so I reach over and haul her onto my lap.
No one step forward, two steps back with us.
I simply refuse. And thankfully, she seems to think so, too, because she settles immediately, her hands on my shoulders.
Like she belongs there. Like she always has.
“Hi.”
“Hi,” she breathes, her eyes trailing down to my lips like they’re the most fascinating thing she’s ever seen. And, though I’m more than willing to let her explore them to her heart’s content, I suddenly remember the most important part of all of this.
“I got you a gift.”
“You said you didn’t want any gifts,” she protests as I nudge her off me.
“And I meant it,” I say, rummaging under the tree for the present I’d put there the other day. “This is just a small thing.”
“But I didn’t get you anything.”
“I can think of a few things you can give me,” I say, waggling my eyebrows until she huffs.
“Open it,” I say, passing it to her. And despite her obvious reluctance, she does, carefully unwrapping the tissue paper to reveal the small glass bauble inside.
It’s simple as gifts go. But I thought it was pretty. I saw it and I thought of her.
“So you can put it on the tree,” I explain in case it wasn’t obvious. “You get the finishing touch.”
She smiles, cradling it in her hands. “Thank you. I’ll—”
She breaks off with a gasp and I may or may not jump as the room suddenly comes to life around us.
Every fairy light. Every tiny waving snowman.
The radio starts in the middle of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas’ and you can actually see the bunting I draped over the doorway.
But best of all is the tree. Even if it did fall over.
That’s the Fitzpatrick touch right there. A festive work of art.
“I might be wrong,” I begin as the miniature train set starts choo-chooing its way around its adorable circular track. “But I think the electricity is back.”
I glance at Lara when she doesn’t answer, only to find her gazing in wonder at the scene before us.
“Told you it was a good surprise,” I say, feeling pretty damned pleased with myself. But she doesn’t smile or laugh or even roll her eyes at me.
She just stares. Stares long enough that I get a bit worried.
Crap.
“I ran out of tinsel,” I remind her. “And I didn’t have time to—”
“It’s beautiful,” she interrupts. “Oliver, thank you. I …” She trails off, shaking her head as she steps further into the room. I grow even more alarmed when I hear a sniff.
Oh no. “Don’t cry.”
“I’m not.”
“You literally are.”
But before I can panic fully, she spins around and throws her arms around me, hugging me tighter than she ever has before.
“This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me,” she says into my chest.
“It is?”
“Yes. I love it,” she says firmly. “I love you. Thank you. For everything.”
“Always,” I tell her. And this time, finally, I think she believes me.
She pulls back, wiping a hand under her eyes before she turns to the tree. “Help me do this?”
“How about there?” I point to a bit of space in the middle, right between a candy cane and a glittering gold star.
She loops the bauble carefully over the branch as I snake an arm around her waist and as we admire her handiwork I wonder if anyone has ever been as happy as I am right now. And then I think no, probably not.
“Merry Christmas, Lara,” I say, pressing a kiss to her temple.
She sighs, melting into me, and together we watch the lights twinkle and dance. “Merry Christmas, Oliver.”