Chapter 6 More Flirty
SIX
More Flirty
Lauren
I’m at Sip and Sleigh with Brie, buried beneath a blizzard of contracts for the Holly Jolly Festival.
Outside, snow drifts lazily from the gray sky, while inside, the air smells like cinnamon and espresso.
Eight contracts later, my brain has given up.
The words blur into meaningless squiggles.
I’ve reread the same paragraph ten times, and the only thing I’ve comprehended is I cannot stop thinking about Eli.
First the almost-kiss and then… the pudding.
Our once-effortless friendship has taken a sharp detour into uncharted flirting territory, and my head is now a jigsaw puzzle with entire pieces missing—like the crucial ones labeled common sense and self-control.
“Can I ask you a question?” I blurt.
Brie sighs. “If it’s about legalities, no, because I’m officially done.”
“I promise it’s not about that.” I stare at the table, embarrassed to even voice this. “Friends lick each other’s fingers, right?”
Her head snaps up. “Um. Generally… no?”
“Damn,” I mutter. “That’s what I was afraid of.”
Brie pushes the stack of papers to the side, abandoning the contracts. “Whose fingers are you licking?”
I bite down on a grin. “Technically, it was the other way around. Eli… may have sucked chocolate pudding off my finger.”
“Oh!” She fans herself dramatically. “That’s definitely not friendly behavior.” She leans in, eyes bright. “Is something going on between you two?”
“No! I mean… no. Well… no.” My hands flap like nervous seagulls. “You know how I moved in with him after the pipes burst at my place?”
“Yeah.”
“Since then, things have gotten… different.”
“Different how?”
“More… flirty. More… electric. More…”
“More finger licking.”
“Exactly,” I groan, collapsing forward. “And my entire body heats up every time he’s near me. It’s never been like this. It was always easy and casual between us and definitely not… this.”
“And you want there to be more finger licking?”
I nod miserably because actually saying yes, please, and also kissing and probably seeing him naked would make it too real.
Brie grins. “Then go for it. If you don’t try, you’ll never know. This could become the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”
My heart soars… and then plummets. What if I’ve built it up in my head, and he only sees me as his best friend? What if I ruin things with the one person who’s been my safe place since middle school?
Before I can spiral into oblivion, Brie glances at the window. “The snow’s getting bad. We should call it a day before we’re trapped here all night.”
“Yeah. Good idea.” I hate night driving in the snow almost as much as I hate the idea of losing Eli.
Back at the cabin, I switch on the Christmas lights and curl up on the couch with a blanket. The Holiday flickers on the TV, the screen glowing softly. If anyone can stop me from overthinking, it’s Jude Law and an English cottage.
An hour in, the front door blows open with a swirl of icy wind and snow, and in steps Eli, shaking the snow off his shoulders. “It’s really coming down out there,” he says, shrugging out of his jacket.
“At least you’re home now,” I reply. “No need to drive in it.”
“Yeah.”
He disappears into the spare room and emerges minutes later in gray sweatpants. My entire chest flutters like a traitor. Grey sweatpants should be illegal.
“So,” he says, lifting my feet and settling on the couch, “what are we watching?” He slides his hands over my fuzzy-sock-covered feet. Now my body melts for an entirely new reason.
“The Holiday.”
“Oh good, something to put me to sleep.”
“Very funny. It’s a classic.”
“No, Home Alone is a classic. This is not that.”
“There’s Christmas in it! Plus, I could totally swap houses with someone and live in a cottage in the English countryside.”
He snorts. “Doubt it.”
“Yes, I could. I’ve adapted to living in your cabin in the woods.”
“Mount Holly is much different than the English countryside.”
“Oh, ye of little Christmas faith. I should just do it to prove you wrong.”
“Now see that—that sounds like something you’d do. Scoot over.” He grins, tapping my leg.
“What?”
“Share the couch.”
Before I can argue, he wedges himself between me and the back of the couch. I scoot to the edge, protesting, “Two people cannot fit like this.”
“It’s working fine.” He slides his arm under the crook of my neck and hooks it around me. “Alright, English countryside. Christmas. What else is this movie about?”
“You could just… stay awake and watch it.”
“Doubtful. It’s already lulling me to sleep.”
As the credits roll across the screen, Eli softly snores behind me. Five minutes into the movie, he was out. “Eli?” My voice is barely a whisper. I’m not even sure what I’m asking for. I turn my head to peer over my shoulder.
“Hmm?” His breath brushes my cheek, warm and unsteady. His lips skim the edge of my jaw as his arm tightens around me. My pulse trips over itself. Then his hips shift.
Oh. OH!
Heat scorches up my spine as his erection presses against my lower back.
“What’s… happening?” I whisper.
He freezes. His eyelids drift open. Dark, steely blue irises stare back at me.
Electricity crackles through the air, sharp and impossible to ignore.
Up until recently, I never thought of Eli as anything but my best friend.
The boy who taught me to drive a stick, who bandaged my skinned knees, who sat on the phone with me until dawn the night my college boyfriend dumped me.
Right now, though? Right now, I want to know what it feels like to be wanted by him.
Slowly, his grip on my waist loosens. “Shit,” he mutters, voice hoarse. He jolts off the couch.
And yeah—there it is. Very, very obvious. My gaze darts down before I can stop myself.
“I told you I’d fall asleep,” he blurts, already retreating around the end of the couch. “I’m gonna… go to bed.”
The spare room door shuts with a click.
I stare at the TV, heart hammering, mind spinning.
He wanted to kiss me. He wanted me. One time I could chalk up to heat of the moment.
Twice? That’s something more. And I am done living in the land of what-ifs.
I shove the blanket off my lap and pad quietly to his door.
I debate whether to knock or barge in. It’s technically his house, which means I should respect the whole boundaries thing.
I knock. There’s a shuffle on the other side, and then the door creaks open.
Eli fills the frame, forearm braced against the jamb, his chest bare and broad, all lean muscle and ridiculous confidence, except he’s clearly not even trying.
He’s still wearing the sweatpants, except now they’re even lower on his hips.
My gaze betrays me, sliding down and back up again. Good lord.
He clears his throat. “Yes?”
Right. Talking. I came here to talk, not ogle. “I knocked,” I mumble, trying to herd my thoughts into a single-file line. They stampede in every direction instead. Don’t get distracted. Don’t get distracted.
“Why didn’t you kiss me?” I hold up my thumb and forefinger, barely an inch apart. “We were this close. Twice now. And you didn’t. Why?”
He rubs the back of his neck, clearly caught off guard. “Um…”
“No lies,” I say softly. “Not after all these years. We owe each other more than that.”
His gaze drops to the floor. “You really want to know?”
“I asked the question, didn’t I?”
“If I kissed you…” His voice dips low, rough. “I don’t think I’d be able to stop.”
My pulse bangs against my ribs like it’s demanding a way out.
He does want to. He didn’t pull away because he wasn’t interested, he pulled away because he was too interested.
I step closer to him and rest my hands against his warm skin.
The light dusting of hair tickles my fingertips.
His heartbeat pounds steady beneath them.
I rise on my toes and brush my lips against his—soft, tentative, every ounce of friendship and love and unspoken longing finally spilling over.
When I pull back a fraction, my voice wobbles. “And?” I don’t even know what I’m asking. If he felt anything? Nothing at all?
He cups my cheeks and slams his lips to mine.
It’s hot, consuming, years of pent-up energy breaking loose in a rush.
I gasp against his mouth, my fingers clutching at his shoulders as he pulls me flush against him.
My thoughts scatter—Christmas lights shorting out, fireworks crackling, a symphony at full crescendo. It’s all too much and exactly right.
His laugh rumbles low when I push him back into the room, guiding him down to the edge of the cot.
It creaks in protest from our weight, but we don’t care.
I straddle his lap, and his hands find my waist, steady and strong, pulling me closer.
I rock my hips, grinding my pussy against his hard erection.
He deepens the kiss until there’s nothing left but the two of us, tangled and breathless, teetering on the edge of something that will change everything.