Chapter 21
James
Who the hell has a work Christmas party the week before Christmas?
Philip fucking Beckett. That’s who.
Despite the fact that it’s cold as balls out, no one wants to drive, and I still haven’t started Christmas shopping, I’m sitting at a “closed for staff event” Booze & Brews sipping on champagne and watching Maria bring out dish after dish of fancy hors d’oeuvres.
There’s duck confit on a kettle chip, some kind of goat cheese thing, mini perogies, and some kind of veggie dip.
What I wouldn’t give for a real meal right now, I think to myself over the loud Christmas music playing right as a plate of waffles and fried chicken on toothpicks float by me. On second thought…
Jill, Nick, and Laur were invited too, I can spot them sitting off to the side, huddled over their drinks and laughing at some asinine story that Nick is telling. I ignore the bite of jealousy settling in the pit of my stomach.
It doesn’t bother me, I try to convince myself while I down the rest of my drink. I refuse to admit that they might be right, that I might not have a place with them anymore.
My gaze drifts to Stella who stands by the counter chatting with Hazel.
She’s wearing the poofiest bright red dress I’ve ever seen.
It’s got a floral texture to it that makes me want to reach out and touch it.
The tiny straps on her shoulders would be so easy to push down, leaving space to kiss and drive her mad.
She’s paired it with tall black heels and massive gold earrings, shown off by putting her hair into a messy chignon.
She contrasts starkly against Hazel’s sleek black satin dress and flats.
Stella sips her champagne, her cheeks already flushed. She’s ethereal, and I’m so caught up in how to approach her that I don’t even hear Nessa when she walks right into my line of sight.
“Hey big bro! I’m so glad you’re here!” she exclaims, throwing her arms around me. I barely catch her before she topples over. My eyes burn as a whiff of vodka floats up from her.
How much has she had to drink? I don’t have long to think about that as she starts babbling about trying this new restaurant she found on social media.
I’ll admit, most of what she says about food goes over my head.
I try to be supportive, but her passion is stronger than I think I’ve felt about anything.
Until recently.
Luckily, I’m saved by Beck tapping a glass for our attention.
He’s in a maroon suit, complete with a tie, and his hair is gelled and styled instead of tied up like he normally does.
It’s making me oddly self-conscious about the fact that I am very underdressed in my dark jeans and button up that Nessa told me I had to wear in order to ‘not be an embarrassment to her good name.’
“Hey everyone! If I can steal your attention for one minute and then you can get back to your drinking,” Beck calls out, his face split in a massive smile.
Everyone chuckles before settling down. “I just wanted to take a moment to let you all know how much I appreciate and care about all of you. Nearly two years ago, I bought Booze & Brews hoping to be able to turn it around. You may or may not know that when I took over, things were not looking good. We needed a miracle. And each and every one of you has stepped up at one point or another to become that miracle. From helping in the kitchen, working longer hours, filling gaps where we needed, bringing in customers,” he points to the band, who hold their glasses up and cheer, “you have all made an incredible difference.
“However, the biggest game changer was the Home Brewed subscription service. It was unexpected, and brought in the business we needed to not only stay afloat, but to grow. That decision came with a miracle of its own—Hazel.” He turns to look at her, his eyes misty as she turns beet red, smiling at her shoes and letting her long wavy hair hide her face.
Beck reaches out his hand, bringing her to stand next to him.
“Hazel, you are my best miracle, and the most wonderful thing that has ever happened to me. We have been through so much together, and accomplished amazing things. You are the reason I wake with a smile on my face and why I can’t work late anymore.
This shop was my dream, but you are my entire world. ”
The entire room gasps as he gets down on one knee.
“Hazel Nucci, it would make me the happiest man in the world if you would marry me. What do you say, sugar, will you let me keep you?”
Stella
I barely register the tears as they pour down my cheeks, which are strained from smiling.
None of us saw this coming, I can tell. Nessa’s jaw is on the floor.
Mel, Jeff, and Kyle look stunned, and Hazel’s shoulders are shaking.
Beck looks at her like she’s the only thing he’s ever seen and will ever look at again, pure love emanating from his face.
Something ugly snags in my chest as I watch them.
I’m not an envious person, but how could I not be when I look at them?
Two people who were so convinced that they needed to do things alone to prove something found each other and made something beautiful.
They’re a true story about love at first sight, and without them, I don’t know that I would have ever believed in that.
The room erupts into cheers as Hazel nods her head.
Beck leaps to his feet, taking her into his arms. The joy coming off of them is palpable as he spins her around, his own face wet with happy tears, planting the biggest, fattest kiss on her.
He puts enough space between them to put a gorgeous emerald cut solitaire set in a gold band on her finger.
Nessa hurtles across the room. I barely make it out of the way before she’s throwing her arms around both of them, squealing her delight, and I follow her.
I carefully dab under my eyes, trying not to smear the makeup Hazel did for me.
She really is the best. They both deserve everything good in life.
I hug Hazel, squeezing her for a good minute, squealing with her in excitement before giving other people some space to congratulate them, enjoying the festive music that comes back on at full blast.
“You look like you could use a refill,” a voice says to my left. I turn to see a blue head of hair carrying another glass of champagne. I’ve never been formally introduced to the bassist for Heartbreak Tuesdays, but I’ve seen enough to know how he operates around the ladies.
“You are very observant,” I say, taking the drink from him and downing half. “Thank you.”
He’s not unattractive. He’s got a sharp chin, wide eyes, and an easy smile. He’s only a few inches taller than me so it’s easy to meet his blasé expression.
“I’m Stella,” I introduce myself, holding out a hand.
He wraps both his hands around mine, bringing me slightly closer.
“I’m Nick.” We chat for a while, he tells me about himself, he’s a Gemini, his favourite drink is a good old fashioned beer—not the frilly champagne we’re drinking, which he says tastes like carbonated lemon water—and he’s relatively subtle in the way he keeps checking out my boobs. All in all a decently nice guy.
“So,” Nick says, crushing his drink, “you and James?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I reply primly, smoothing my hands down the poofy, blood-red skirt of my dress.
“He’s been staring at you since I walked up here, gorgeous.”
“He stares at everyone. I don’t think he’s capable of subtlety.”
“Nah, big guy only has eyes for you.” He flashes me a wicked, knowing grin.
“It’s probably the dress. It’s very bright. Attracts attention.”
“You could be wearing a trash bag and he’d still look like he wants to throttle me for even speaking to you.”
I turn to him. “I highly doubt that. Besides, he’s not my keeper.”
“You sure about that? Cause he’s coming this way.” He waggles his brows with mischief before turning to me. “So,” he says, leaning in to be heard over the music, “I was wondering if you wanted to get out of here—”
I barely have time to spin around before James is standing directly behind me, glaring down at Nick.
“No.” He says, his tone flat.
“Heard.” Nick raises his hands in mock surrender with the most bewildered smile on his face. “Have fun kids.” He saunters over to Nessa and Mel who are still freaking out over Hazel.
“What are you doing?” I whirl to glare at James. His face holds no emotion as he looks back at me.
“You don’t wanna hang around him. He’s a player.”
I scoff. “He seemed perfectly nice. Besides, isn’t that up to me to decide?” I wait to see if he’ll call my bluff.
James doesn’t miss a beat. “It is. We both know he’s not going to be able to give you what you want, though.”
“And what do I want?”
“You want anything I can give you, sunshine.”
“You’re kind of an arrogant prick, are you aware of that?”
“But I’m right,” he counters. He is, and I hate it.
We stand there next to each other, quietly watching the people around us celebrate and dance, and all I want to do is take his hand.
He makes small, imperceptible movements until we’re so close to each other, all I would have to do it stretch out my pinky finger—
“Wanna get out of here?” His voice sends shivers down my spine as his breath whispers across my shoulder. I don’t answer, I just nod. “I’m going to start the car. I’ll meet you in the back.” And then he’s gone.
I take a few minutes to say goodbye, cheers a few people who are still soaked in champagne, and hug my friends. I hold onto Hazel extra long, so happy for her, even though something in my heart aches like it’s been kicked in the crotch. My heart-crotch, if you will.
“I’m so happy for you,” I say into her ear, her heartbeat still pressed to mine. She leans back to look me in the eye.
“Thank you,” she sniffs, her eyes still teary, “I’m really happy too.”
My lungs squeeze as I hold her a moment longer.
I congratulate her and Beck again before I excuse myself and sneak out to the alley.
As promised, James has the car running, his passenger seat heater on for me as I slide in.
He flashes me the briefest smile before we take off into the night, leaving our friends and their promises of forever behind us.
The more time I spend with James, the less I feel like I need to fill in the silent moments with music, with chatter, to make the moments comfortable.
With him, they just are. There’s a steadying assurance when I’m with him that there aren’t any requirements, any expectations except to be there with him.
He takes my hand when we get to his apartment, leading me up the stairs behind him.
I unashamedly stare at his backside as I thank my lucky stars that I had enough forethought to plan my entire outfit tonight.
He grabs a bottle of wine from the fridge and I make an excuse to slip into the bathroom to get myself ready
“Don’t take too long, sunshine,” he whispers against my mouth, giving me a searing kiss before he lets me go.
I look at my reflection when I’m ready, taking deep breaths. The confidence I had when I first put this on is starting to wane. What if he doesn’t like it? What if I’m taking things too far?
You are a sexy, slutty, sex-muffin and this is not presumptuous.
You can do this. I give myself one more look-over and steel myself.
When I emerge, James is sitting on the couch, a glass of chardonnay in hand, facing away from me.
As he hears me come towards him, he turns and freezes.
His mouth hangs open as he takes in the whole look.
I’m draped in flimsy purple silk slip that grazes my mid-thigh, right where it meets the scandalous black stockings and garter I’ve been wearing all night. It fit perfectly under my dress tonight, no one the wiser about it, and there’s a thrill in revealing it.
I take my time walking to stand between his spread thighs. He’s methodical in the way he runs his hands up my legs, over my ass, his face pulled in concentration. The way he takes me in is exact, like he’s trying to memorize this moment.
“Did you wear this to get my attention, sunshine?” he asks, discarding his wine on the coffee table.
I nod my head timidly, losing a little bit of the confidence I had under his scrutiny.
“And now that you have it, what do you want?” His fingers dance down my spine, making me shiver.
My nipples stiffen and poke out visibly under the buttery silk, he groans before dipping his head to pull one into his mouth through the fabric.
My back arches into his touch, pleading for more contact.
“More.” My voice comes out breathy, and his rumbling response ripples through my ribcage. I don’t register what’s happening until I’m suddenly laid out on the bed and he’s standing in front of me, drinking in the view.
“Off,” he says, dragging his nose across the front of my dress before backing off. I lean back on my hands to look up at him. I gesture to his own, intact, outfit.
“Off.”
Without looking away, he slowly removes each piece of clothing, his gaze heating. My breath quickens with each article discarded.
When he’s standing in front of me, fully nude, his solid length bobbing in front of him, he raises his brows in challenge, nodding at my dress. I cock my head, stand, then push the thin purple straps off of my shoulders one by one, letting the fragile silk piece flutter to the ground.
His mouth hangs open as he takes in the part of my outfit he hasn’t seen yet.
I squirm in my stockings and garter, which match the black, lacy, nearly see-through thong that is giving away the growing wet patch between my thighs.
His eyes dart around my body, unsure of where to start.
Seeing him overwhelmed at the sight of me heats my blood.
I need his hands on me. I need friction.
I just need him.
I fall to my knees, taking him in my hand and stroking him before pulling the crown into my mouth.
I wrap my lips around him, moaning around his length as his salty skin glides across my tongue.
I’m being guided by instinct, reading his reactions.
His eyes squeeze shut as his muscles clench under me.
I feel him grab my hair, steadying himself.
I did that. Power rushes through me at the realization that I’m able to bring him to heel with a simple touch.
Well, not simple. I gag as he tries to fill my throat, forcing me to breathe through my nose. He pets my face as I look up at him through tears.
“Fuck, sweetheart, I’m going to come if you do that again.” My core floods with arousal.
This is how I die. Death by horniness.
I am a-okay with that.