CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Blue
Was I talking out of my ass when I told Garrick I have a magical vagina? Mostly. There has been one man in my history of one-night stands and short-lived non-relationships who used that description for my lady garden, but he was… He was later arrested for stalking - not me, thankfully — but he probably wasn’t the best judge.
Still, claiming to have a magically addictive vagina seemed safer than explaining to Garrick that I want him too much. And I like him. I like him way more than I should.
Being with him in the home where he grew up, I’m seeing a different side of Garrick. Worse, I’m beginning to understand exactly why he is the way he is and I’m feeling… things. I don’t like feeling things.
I am not going to fall into the trap of believing I’m in love or happily ever afters.
Love and relationships are coping mechanisms people adopt to survive a scary world. Attraction is scientifically proven to be real. The rest is a fantasy we make up to comfort ourselves through the hardships of life.
Garrick is staring at me with a horrified expression and I’m not sure if it’s because of my magical vagina or because I want a tour of this portrait gallery.
I’ve known a lot of truly rich people in my life, but I’ve seen the insides of very few of their homes. Do all rich people have a room dedicated to family portraits? Or is Garrick’s family odd?
I’m crossing my fingers for odd.
Garrick clears his throat and looks around the room. “My parents…” He puts his hands on his hips. “They wanted to support local…” He drops his head forward and pulls at his hair. “None of us kids asked for these portraits. It was all our parents’ idea, so if you’ve got some idea I’m a narcissist who—”
“Has parents who love him and wanted to document his stages of growth in a truly epic way?”
He lifts his head, and his cheeks are actually pink. The fact that I’ve made this man blush should be something I can use on a resume. Instead, I’m taking a mental snapshot so I can remember this moment later.
And not for the benefit of my magical vagina. That galaxy shattering kiss will fulfill that need quite nicely.
“You don’t think it’s weird or…” he rubs the back of his neck, “creepy?”
“Oh, it’s definitely weird. But it clearly comes from a good place. Now give me a tour before I show myself around and draw my own conclusions.”
He nods and turns toward the back of the room. “Let’s start with my great great grandparents.”
His robe is fluffy, but short enough that I can see his calves flex as he walks barefoot across the room. The way this man makes a bathrobe look sexy is probably a sign that kiss did some real damage to my cognitive abilities.
Also, his hair looks even better mussed by my hands and my face is still tingling from his scruff. I want to kiss him again.
I really, really want to kiss him again.
Instead, I follow him over to a portrait of a young couple in old timey clothing. I’m no expert, but if I had to guess, I’d say Garrick’s family’s been rich going back many, many generations.
As we gaze at each portrait, he fills me in on the family lore, some of it tragic, some of it hilarious. It gets funnier when we get to the portraits of him and his siblings. It’s like looking through a family photo album, except it’s all on the walls.
“Why is there just the one portrait of your parents?” I ask. There’s one of the two of them from their wedding day, but no portraits of the whole family together.
“This room is all about us growing up,” Garrick says. “My parents claim they don’t change enough to need a portrait every year. Throughout the house, there are portraits of the whole family. We do those every five years or so.”
“So, no narcissists at all in this house?”
He shrugs. “Not diagnosed anyway. I think claiming to have a magical vagina is definitely a sign of narcissism.”
“Fair point.” I can’t help smiling. I’m having fun with this horrible man and his family. “Most politicians are probably narcissists, right?”
He nods. “All of them, I’d say.”
“The people of Yuletide do understand I’m the only one who actually wants to be mayor, don’t they?” I sink onto the small couch in the far corner of the room with a yawn. “Who do they think’s going to take the job if they force me out of office?”
“Yarbrough Mitchell.”
Why does that name sound familiar? “Who?”
“He walks his dog through the park next to the courthouse a few times a week. Wears ski pants every day, has a permanent goggle tan.”
I’ve seen that guy. He’s hit on me a few times. “I’ve only ever heard him called Bro.”
Garrick grins. “Short for Yarbrough.”
“Isn’t he unemployed? And homeless?”
“He’s a part-time ski instructor in Sugar Valley. Still lives at home with his mother.”
“Does he have any qualifications for mayor?”
Garrick smirks. “He’s not you.”
I yawn again and grimace at the same time. “That can only end in disaster. They’ll be begging me to come back after six weeks.”
“Probably so.” Garrick holds out his hand. “Come on. It’s late and my parents will want us up early to go skiing. We should get to bed.”
I yawn as I take his hand. “Okay.” Then I freeze in place. “Did you say skiing? I thought we were here to celebrate Christmas?”
He stares like I’ve grown a second head. “What else would we do with a day off? We ski in the morning and exchange presents in the evening. It’s our tradition.”
“And if I hate skiing and am terrible at it? Will your family decide I’m unfit to date you?” Maybe I can go home.
He pulls me to my feet, still looking confused. “You’re talking about snow skiing, right? As in skiing on snow? I’ll also accept snowboarding.”
“I hate all of it. I have no balance and it hurts when I fall.”
He smiles like I’m cute. “It can’t be that bad. We’ll stick to the easier runs and I’ll give you some pointers.”
“We went skiing when I was sixteen. I ran over three little kids on the way down the bunny slope and lost both my skis when I fell. Ski patrol banned me from the mountain until I took a class.”
He’s still smiling at me like I’m cute. “Well—”
I hold up my hand. “I took a class. Spent most of it on my butt, but I was allowed to get back on the mountain. I fell over in the lift line and tore my ACL.”
He shakes his head, his smile fading. “Just last month, you took the day off from work to go skiing.”
“I went with Cherry and Peach and their guys. I hung out in the lodge by the fire and listened to an audio book until one of them came in for a break or they needed me to get them a table at the restaurant for lunch.”
“You just haven’t had the right teacher,” he says with a straight face. He puts an arm around my shoulders and walks us out of the portrait gallery. “Spend a few hours on the slopes with me tomorrow and I’ll turn you into a skiing addict.”
“Not happening, big guy.”
He glances down at me and must realize I’m an unpenetrable wall of stubborn. “How about I make it worth your while?”
“You don’t have anything I want.”
He’s silent until we’re halfway up the stairs. I still have no idea where the hell we are. This house is an absolute maze.
“If you give me three hours to turn you into a skier, I’ll buy you coffee every day for a month.”
That gives me pause. “From Mistletoe Coffee? With the hint of cinnamon?”
He grimaces. “If that’s what you want, it’s yours.”
That coffee is the best, but it’s at the far end of town and I’m almost always running too late to grab a cup before work. “Fine. You can try to teach me to ski, but you’re going to regret it.”
He laughs like I’m joking. That’s fine. He’ll find out the truth tomorrow.
Too soon, we’re in the bedroom.
“Is this the smallest room in the house?” I ask.
There’s just enough room for one double bed, two nightstands, and a dresser against the wall closest to the door. There’s barely enough floor space for a normal-sized human to stretch out and sleep on the floor.
Garrick looks as happy about this arrangement as I am. “The guest room had to be smaller so that each of the, um, residential bedrooms could be the size of small apartments. Most of them have their own basic kitchens.”
I stare at him. Rich people are so, so weird. “Your parents really expected you all to live here forever.”
His cheeks pink. Again. “And most of us have stayed. It’s very comfortable here and an easy commute to the resort. Mom even had a road built that goes directly there from here. We’d be in my room, but Maisey’s twins have it now. My parents have promised to add an addition to the house if I move back. ”
I don’t even want to think about the bureaucratic nightmare getting a personal road set up must have been. Since becoming mayor, I’ve learned infrastructure never gets built easily or quickly.
Although, the resort probably brings in enough revenue, residents, and tourists that the powers that be give the Rivertons pretty much whatever they want.
I peek into the en suite bathroom, but there’s not even a tub in there.
“I’m not sleeping on the floor. I don’t care if you called dibs.”
Garrick’s smirk tells me everything I need to know as he slips out of his robe and lets it fall to the floor. “Fine. We’ll share the bed.”
Damn, the man is built. Lean and toned and… I jerk my gaze back to his face. “We’re adults. It’ll be fine.”
Keeping my eyes on his, I pull my sweater and the shirt underneath over my head. Standing just in my bra and jeans, I smile at him.
His eyes pop wide, then heat as his gaze trails over me. I swear I can feel it like his fingers are running over my breastbone and down over my breasts. My bra is lacy and ecru. And pretty much see through.
I make the mistake of glancing below his waist to see he’s responding in a way that demonstrates just how much he likes what he sees. He is very large and my pussy throbs in response.
This was a terrible, terrible idea.
Seeing where my attention has gone, Garrick glances down. When he lifts his head, his cheeks are not pink and his smirk is all sexy confidence. “Still sure you don’t want the floor?”
“I can keep my hands to myself.” I pop the button on my jeans. What is it about this man that makes it impossible for me to turn down a dare or a challenge? “Can you?”
I slide my jeans over my hips, turning at the last moment so he gets a full view of my bare ass in a thong.
He lets out a muffled groan, and I smile to myself. Inside, I’m doing a happy dance, but I turn back to face him with a flat expression as I step out of my jeans. “Sure you don’t want the floor?”
“Nope.” His voice is strained and his dick is fighting to get free of those boxer briefs he’s wearing.
I reach behind my back for the clasp of my bra. “Positive?”
He moves so fast I barely see him flip the switch before the room is dark. And not dimly lit from outdoor lights or the moon, but pitch freaking black.
There’s a rustle of sheets and then Garrick’s rough voice. “Get the fuck in bed, Demon.”
I flick the clasp on my bra and let it fall to the floor. I usually don’t wear pajamas to sleep, but I did bring some just for an awkward situation like this. There’s no point in trying to find them now, though. I step forward and bonk my shin on the foot of the bed.
Pain shoots through me, spearing my brain with a white light that does nothing to illuminate the room.
“Ow. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” I read somewhere once that swearing actually relieves pain. It’s not working.
“You okay?” Garrick’s voice sounds really close. Is he sitting up in bed?
“Uh-huh.”
Reaching out, I feel the mattress. I hop up onto the bed and scramble forward, hurrying toward safety.
Somehow, I end up on top of Garrick.
“Crap. Sorry.” I try to scramble off him.
Except I scramble the wrong way and pitch forward into the dark abyss that the bedroom has become.
Garrick’s arm wraps tight around my waist. “I got you.”
I let out a relieved sigh. “Thank you.”
Pushing against the side of the bed, I twist back up.
Garrick helps by grabbing my left boob.
“Shit. Sorry, Demon.”
He doesn’t let go, but keeps his grip and uses it to lift me back into the bed. Not like he’s pulling me up by my boob. His big, firm palm is cupping my breast and pushing me up and over him.
My pussy goes wild, throbbing and clenching like the dude has just licked my clit.
Garrick lets me go and I land with a little bounce on my side of the bed.
“You have great tits,” Garrick whispers into the darkness.
Every one of my worst impulses leaps to action and begs me to climb back on top of that man and ride him until dawn. Although, with these blackout curtains, we’ll never know when the sun rises.
I swallow hard against bad urges and horniness. “Thanks. Good night, Garrick.”
“Good night, Demon.”
I roll onto my side and stare into the darkness, wide awake.
Garrick shifts, his breathing heavy, and an arm lands on me. He pulls me against his chest, my ass to his groin.
I immediately shift away before I feel anything. “Garrick, quit it,” I hiss into the darkness.
He grunts and pulls on me again.
I roll and shove at his chest. “Stop it.”
“What?” he asks, sounding truly groggy. “Why are you hitting me?”
“You cannot seriously think I’m going to believe you fell asleep in the five minutes we’ve been in this bed.”
“I’m tired,” he says. “I always fall asleep fast.”
I wish I could see his face, but it’s pitch dark in this room. The glow from our cell phones on the night stands isn’t enough to light the room. “Whatever, just stay on your side of the bed.”
I scoot closer to the edge to put as much space between us as possible, but, just as I’m drifting off, I’m covered in a man who thinks he’s a blanket again. “Garrick, seriously.”
He doesn’t make a sound or move and, when I shove him this time, he doesn’t wake up. He just rolls over and goes back to sleep.
I scoot all the way to the very edge of the bed and, as I finally fall asleep, my last thought is a hope I don’t wake up wrapped up in Garrick. If I do, there’s no way I’m going to be able to keep my hands to myself.
Luckily, I sleep through the night and wake up alone. I might be happy about that, but I’m on the floor, the cold hard wood against my back. I must have fallen out of bed without waking up. I look up to see one of Garrick’s arms hanging off my side of the bed.
Did the fucker actually push me out of bed?
And why didn’t I wake up when he did? This floor is not comfortable. I must have been more exhausted than I realized.
And still my pussy clenches at that sight of that perfect, bare forearm of his hanging over the side of the bed.
I am so screwed.