Chapter 18
WALKER
It’s peaceful as we make the trek back to my house.
Our time at Coastal Eats was perfect, and begrudgingly, I’m thankful that Sawyer dragged us out for the night.
As we say our goodbyes, we promise to get together before Lacey goes back to Chicago—a thought that I’d successfully pushed from my mind.
The snowdrifts are higher than when we left, and I walk in front of Lacey so she can have a makeshift path.
It’s the least I can do.
She hiccups behind me and giggles as we push through the front door, the wind making it slam closed behind us.
“It’s like something out of a movie,” she says, stomping her boots on the mat as she pulls the hat from her head.
“What is?”
“Tonight! The snow and going out in it with friends and just the whole thing. It’s just…” She presses her palms to her flushed cheeks. “I’m just really happy.”
“Good,” I tell her, closing the distance and lightly pinching her chin between my thumb and forefinger, tilting her face up toward mine. “I like seeing you happy.”
Desire simmers in her hazel eyes as I press my lips to hers. The kiss is unhurried, not like earlier when I’d been ready to strip her down in the middle of my living room.
“Know what would make me happy right now?” she purrs, pressing her chest into me as she leans back to meet my gaze.
“What’s that?”
“After all that talk about penises, I really want yours”—she licks her lips—“in my mouth.”
I will not think about the fact this is my best friend’s sister saying this…
“That’s what you want?”
“Yes,” she says, pushing me back toward the stairs, “that and one other thing.” This time she worries her bottom lip, and my mouth opens and closes as she bends over and rummages through the discarded box of Christmas decorations from earlier.
I’m not sure what I was expecting, but her expression is devilish as she grabs the roll of Christmas lights.
Well, fuck.
Swallowing hard, I stare at her. “That’s what you want?”
“What I want,” she murmurs, sashaying over to where I’m mentally trying to reconcile the bold, sexy woman in front of me with the one that wanted to build a snowman earlier, “is you naked and tied to the bed.”
“God damn, Lace. Where the hell did you come from?” I ask, backing toward the stairs, my dick already hard in my jeans.
“Guess I’m just sick of not asking for what I want.”
“You definitely seem to be over that now.”
“And besides,”—she grins as we hit the landing—“you owe me.”
As a matter of fact, I do.