Chapter 13
Thirteen
T hree days before Christmas, I load my car, pulsing in anticipation at spending time with Mick prior to heading to Oakland.
It’s reminiscent of last year, sans Remy , and it takes serious fortitude to shove away thoughts of the best Christmas I’ve ever had—the gifts, the sex, the affection swirling between us.
When some memories resurface, I indulge them. Mick and I hunting for a tree, bringing it back to his place and decorating it. Snuggling on the couch watching holiday classics. We’re repeating some of those new traditions, starting with this afternoon, and I’m so ready for it.
Maybe our seasonal spirit will drown the pessimistic whispers following me around.
Mick remains distracted—unless we’re making love, eyes locked, our bodies merged in a breathless kind of unity, one so poignant it often brings me to tears.
The rest of the time, it’s almost as if the boat is leaving the marina without me, forcing me to run and leap, hurling my body onto the deck before it can.
I wish he’d let me comfort him, help him. He’s my everything. Not just a VIP but the MIP, the most important person in my life. Nothing he could say or do could change that, but he stays closed—like a book on a shelf too high to reach—giving me little to go on.
The divide widens.
And I’m panicked he’s slipping away.
I hug Jas and Kit farewell. We exchanged presents last night over a bottle of wine and stayed up talking late into the night.
My roommates are headed to Oakland tomorrow to spend the break at their parents’ houses.
I try not to think too hard about a few days from now, when I’m trapped in another predictably bleak holiday with Fred and Barbara Hall.
Christmas music serenades me from the radio as I make the familiar drive to Half Moon Bay. I’m instantly comforted when the Pacific—and soon after, Mick’s driveway—comes into view.
My gray-eyed ocean struts to my car with a huge grin, and my heart sprints toward all that gorgeousness. He opens my door and pulls me impatiently into his arms. “Hey, baby,” he murmurs before sealing his lips over mine.
Every cell in my body awakens with his kiss, his sheer presence, and I love being the focus of his ardor.
We pull apart and my smile broadens. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas.”
“I missed you.”
“Guess college finals take precedence over me, eh?”
I snort. “Unfortunately. But I’m trying to forget about those right now.”
He pulls me firmly against him. “I’ve got some ideas how to accomplish that—and I need my fucking fix.”
When he presses his lips to mine again, his tongue probing and claiming, my insides liquify and I moan into his mouth, already needy for all things Mick.
Everything else falls away except this man and the way he jumpstarts my heart .
He tugs me by the hand into the house. We only make it to the kitchen.
“What do you?—”
His sentence falters as I drop to my knees and rip open his button fly.
Our eyes connect before I drag his Levi’s and briefs down his hips and wrap my lips around his steadily growing cock.
Devouring. My groan resounds as I’m filled with relief.
I crave Mick like a vampire craves blood.
He moans my name, fisting my hair and thrusting into my mouth.
Heat blazes through me. Wetness soaks my underwear.
My knees chafe from the linoleum, and I don’t care.
He tastes so fucking good. Big, veiny, throbbing.
I’m voracious. Needy. My palms clutch his firm ass and bring him deeper as I suck him to the back of my throat.
“Fuuuuuuuck…”
His balls tighten. Pace quickens. He’s losing control, and an animalistic noise of desire comes straight from my depths.
Mick detonates, shooting his release into my mouth and grinding it out amidst a string of guttural sounds. I collect every drop, waiting until he stills to swallow the evidence of his pleasure. His unfocused gaze finds mine, and a lopsided smile graces his lips as he sags against the counter.
“Goddamn, woman.”
I beam up at him, licking my lips, and his eyes turn molten.
He helps me to standing and makes quick work of stripping me naked.
I let out a surprised squeak when he swiftly lifts me off my feet and sets me on the tiled countertop.
He dispenses with his jeans and shirt, spreads my legs, and stands in between them.
Our mouths join and I wrap my arms around his smooth, broad shoulders.
He presses my back flush against the cool surface, sending a chill across my torso as my nipples go fully rigid.
I soon forget any discomfort as his lips blaze a warm trail down my neck, stopping to nip at my throat, before his hands—then tongue—claim my breasts.
A garbled succession of moans escape as I writhe beneath him, my center desperate.
I will never tire of seeing him like this, his beautiful gray eyes so full of desire for me. So present. So potent.
His mouth latches onto my breast as he pushes two of his fingers inside my pussy. He groans around my flesh. I’m soaked…for him. Always for him.
Little noises of pleasure leave my lips. Ohhhh. Unghh. Ahhhh . They turn to heavy breaths as he fucks me with his fingers, his teeth grazing over one nipple, the sear of his touch forever ruining me.
I’m mewling, begging, moaning, bracing my heels to spread my legs wider, wanting all of him to have all of me.
His mouth travels lower to suck on that vibrating bundle of nerves, alternating with flattening his tongue against my entrance, making everything slicker.
In harmonious tandem with his glorious fingers pistoning inside me, Mick brings me to orgasm lightning fast. I wail as the edges of my vision darken, pleasure exploding and rocketing through me.
I’m delirious, my pelvis jerking with reverberations when Mick grips my hips and hauls my feet to the floor.
He spins me toward the counter and enters me roughly from behind.
I cry out and he growls his approval. Oh.
Fuck. Yes. He’s so hard. So beautifully hard.
This man fills me sublimely. There is nothing better than this. Nothing.
“Fuuuck,” he breathes. “Your pussy squeezes me like it’s never letting go.”
I never want to let go.
He thrusts into me with deep strokes, each one a declaration. Mine. Mine. Mine.
I’m yours.
“Fuck me, Mick. Fuck me hard.”
He answers by driving into me fast and forcefully. Holy hell. I brace against the counter, taking every delicious ram and demand he makes. My breasts surge with each drive, my nipples grazing the tile with a pleasurable friction. He owns me—my heart, my body, my soul—and it’s all I want.
“Goddamn, you’re perfect,” he grunts out.
Stars skirt my peripheral vision again. “So…are you,” I manage between husky breaths.
Mick’s strokes come faster. He quickens, and I cry out as his orgasm erupts, the pleasure between us intense.
He stays buried inside me, collapsed over my back, as our breathing normalizes.
Our bodies are glued from the sweat coating them.
He kisses my back with a tenderness that makes my eyes mist; his love is so palpable… tangible…in this moment.
We break apart, my legs already stiff and my center deliciously used. He swipes a kitchen towel, and we clean ourselves up, all smiles as we dress.
“Merry Christmas,” I say with an arched brow.
He grins, his dimple making an appearance. “Christmas came early.” Turning serious, he palms my face, tilting my mouth to his. “I love you, Jacqui.”
“I don’t think words can adequately express how much I love you, Mick.”
We repeat last year’s inaugural festivities—dinner out followed by finding a beautiful tree smelling of pine and sap.
Mick hauls it inside and we adorn it with string lights and decorations.
We turn off all the other lights in the house save for our Christmas tree and settle in front of the TV with hot cocoa to watch It’s a Wonderful Life .
I’m zonked when it’s time for bed, but it takes zero coaxing from my gray-eyed lover to make slow, languid love before we drop off to sleep, my body spooned tightly into his.
Shrill ringing barges into my dreams, and I jerk awake.
“This better be good,” Mick mutters as he grabs the phone .
My gaze swings to the oversized windows facing the ocean. It’s still dark out, but by the wisp of brightness just tinging the sky, dawn is near.
“Slow down,” he tells the caller.
My pulse ticks up. Is it an emergency?
Mick shifts into a sitting position, listening intently. “When’s the last time you saw him?” he asks.
I’d bet money this is about Remy. I stifle a sigh.
“Yeah, you don’t want to do that.”
Do what?
“I really don’t know. Have you tried Vinny?”
Definitely Remy. And whatever crap is happening with him… again .
“I see.”
A sharp pain emanates from my jaw, and I realize it’s clenched.
Mick rakes a hand through his hair. The sky is light enough now to make out his features, the sun breaking the horizon. “I can try…”
My stomach drops.
“Yup. Not ideal. But I understand.”
What’s not ideal?
“I’ll let you know as soon as I do.”
Pause.
“Mm-hmm. Okay.”
Mick says goodbye and hangs up. He doesn’t meet my gaze.
My voice sticks in my throat. “What?”
“It’s Remy. He didn’t come home last night and Sherry’s freaking out.”
“And she wants you to track him down?”
He squeezes his eyes shut for a long moment, as if bracing for a fight, and nods.
Goddamn it. “How is this your problem?”
“It shouldn’t be, but she doesn’t want Remy’s parents to find out, and she’s out of her mind with worry. She didn’t know who else to turn to.”
My eyes tear, and I don’t know if it’s from anger or hurt. “It’s Christmas Eve, Mick. This is our time.”
The morning sun casts its glow over his throat and face, highlighting his Adam’s apple when he swallows. “I know, baby, and I’m sorry.”
“But you’re going.” My heart stutters and flares. It’s sending Morse Code. An SOS message.
He looks away. “I’ve got to.”
I rip off the covers and stalk around the loft, yanking on clothes, seething with thousands of pent-up, unsaid words.
Mick watches silently.
Here we are again. Hostage to Remy’s fuckups. Our life in limbo because he can’t get his together.
When is it going to end?
Part of me knows it’s unfair to take this out on Mick.
He’s a good man. Of course he’s always going to show up for his friend.
But goddamn him. Today, perhaps selfishly, I want him to choose me .
This isn’t our problem. Resentment ricochets in my head—Remy, first and foremost, but Sherry too.
Isn’t this her area of expertise? How come she isn’t handling it?
Helping him? I wonder if she regrets meeting him, falling for him, marrying him.
It can’t be easy. It sure as fuck is raining on my parade on a regular basis.
Ugly thoughts ripple through me as I wallow in the unfairness of it all.
Mick says nothing as he rises from the bed and pulls on his jeans.
I clutch my stuff and hurry down the stairs.
He stays quiet as he trails after me. Bitterness climbs my throat as I spy the unopened presents under the tree.
I’m riveted to the spot, eyes glued to those gifts. Merry fucking Christmas.
I choke back a sob as Mick wraps his arms around me from behind. He buries his head in my hair.
“Don’t leave angry,” he murmurs. “Please. ”
A sniffle escapes, along with a trickle of tears. “It’s not how I wanted the day to go,” I whisper.
He lets out a long breath, the warmth of it seeping into my neck. “Same, baby.”
Dropping everything in my arms, I turn and sink into him. We hold each tightly, as if neither of us wants to let go for fear we’ll break.
And we feel breakable. Vulnerable.
He shifts, the precursor to leaving, and my hands slide to his hips. He cups my face. Kisses me tenderly. He infuses all the love he has into that kiss, silently begging my forgiveness, my patience, my understanding.
I can deny him nothing. He has all of me.
I’m yours. I’m yours. I’m yours.
We part and he stares at me intently. “I’ll call as soon as I can. And I’ll bring the gifts. We’ll open them in Oakland. Maybe you can come over to Mom’s tomorrow? You know she wants to see you.”
I nod. And of course I want to see his mom.
We’ve only met twice, but I like and respect her so much.
It’s hard to think about that right now, knowing the most important person in my life needs to track down Remy, who is God knows where.
Hanging with his dealer buddies? Sleeping in the gutter? Worse?
“Be careful, Mick.”
He nods, but I’m not reassured. About anything.