High Stakes Holiday

Chapter One

I had forgotten how cramped my bedroom was, now that I’ve lived on my own for a few months, but I was pretty excited to be home for the weekend. Christmas always had a way of making me feel like a kid again and I knew my mom wanted me here as long as possible, since we didn’t see each other much otherwise. I sat up in my twin bed and stretched my back while trying to see through the shield of snow covering the window. We must have had a heavy fall last night.

I could hear the muffled clatter of pans banging together through my closed door and immediately got excited for whatever breakfast feast Mom was gearing up for me. I had to admit, it wasn’t a bad set up. I flung my bare legs off the skinny bed and used my toes to fling up my sweatpants, then grabbed a T-shirt out of my suitcase. Even though I haven’t lived at home in over five years, the trophy shelf displaying all my baseball wins, the Post Malone/Pink Floyd poster showcase, and my dusty collection of vintage, signed, sports memorabilia had me feeling like a teen again.

My leather journal sat on my nightstand and I opened it to last night’s entry. Reading over my words had a way of putting my mind at ease. Journaling was a habit I picked up late in high school and it’s turned into a great escape for me. I had gotten to a point were my mind would often wander off on bus rides and during lull moments and one day I sucked it up and order myself a journal from Amazon. Some of the lines I’d come up with were so fascinating to me, in my own novice creativity, that I figured I’d start jotting them down and see where it went. It was almost like someone else, someone inside me, would be writing down whatever seemingly important and insightful limericks I’d fabricate for later reflection. Reading some of my older pages always gave me a smile and sometimes even transported me back to the time in which I wrote it. My inner dialogue had a unique way of easing my mind, or distracting it, from the new pressures I faced being on my own and starting a fresh new career.

Mom’s laughter pierced my ears and pulled me from my pages. Who the heck is she talking to now? The woman practically lived on the phone, and her voice wasn’t soft. It’s most likely the reason I woke up before nine, to be honest. Kara isn’t here and Dad has never made her laugh like that, plus he’s at work.

I opened my bedroom door, and the smell of warm pastries and bacon instantly filled my nose. Mom was on the phone over by the fridge, with a huge grin on her face. I mouthed to her, “Who are you talking to?”

“Say hi to Evan. He’s right here,” she handed me the phone. Dude, I just woke up! I don’t want to say hi to one of your friends!

I half smiled at her with my eyes bugged out, visually trying to make it obvious that this was not acceptable. I cleared my throat, “Hello?”

“Well, well, well,” the familiar voice purred, and my knees immediately began threatening instability. “It’s been a little while.”

My throat closed and my heart slammed in my chest. Brooke. Images of her, in my lap on the cliff, pinned up against the tree in the dark, bent over in front of me in my tent flooded my thoughts. I could no longer see or smell anything other than her perfect body and her sweet skin. My pants began to stretch without warning and the skin on my face felt numb. I couldn’t believe the effect she still had over my body. I missed her more than I thought, apparently.

“Brooke,” I stammered, looking over at Mom to see if she noticed my lack of rapport and overall poise. “How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been well,” she answered, and I could hear the smile on her face and all I wanted to do was close my eyes and imagine how she tastes, but I had to remain cool. “I’ve been thinking of you. Often.”

“Me too,” I blurted as if she had asked me if I liked tacos or MLB. Trying to keep my answers obscure and unaffected enough to not raise suspicion to my mother, who made it a point to keep looking over at me and nodding. What is she so excited about? However, every single inch of me wanted to tell this woman how much I’d longed for her. How much I wanted to feel her, smell her, and taste her again. The thought alone continued to enhance my growth and I was beginning to feel uncomfortable in present company. My craving of her would forever be a mystery I might never crack. Her voice was simply spellbinding. I was okay with that, for now.

“Did your mother tell you?”

“Tell me what?” My mouth was filling with liquid. Swallow, dammit.

“I’ll be seeing you in a few hours,” she purred. “The kids are spending the weekend with my parents, and I don’t get them back until Sunday evening for Christmas Eve and, curiously, your mom practically begged me to come.” She let out a soft giggle which made my crotch pulse.

“You’ll be here today? Here? At my house?” Keep it together, man. Less questions. She thinks you agreed to cool it because you felt the same way, but if you sound too eager, she’ll know how much you’ve thought about her and wished she hadn’t called off what you had.

She giggled, again. “Yes, is that all right with you, Hercules?”

Shit. We’d talked constantly in the months following our hot as hell tryst, but ultimately, we came to the conclusion that circumstance and reality had us on different paths and to keep it platonic going forward. I understood where she was coming from, being a mother and me not having that life experience, but I didn’t want to see her go. The first few weeks after we ‘ended it’ were particularly hard on me. I’d stalk her Instagram page and smile at every post, wishing she could feel it. I felt like a wet puppy left shivering out in the rain. I don’t know if I’ll be able to survive if Brooke is off limits. Maybe she’d be open to an ‘old time’s sake’ naked reunion.

“Yeah, of course, that sounds great. Should be a lot of fun,” I answered in a very underwhelming manner as to not sound overly zealous and blow our current arrangement. I didn’t want her to think I was going back on her wishes or that I was expecting to try and rekindle what we had. So, once again, Brooke will be off limits. Piece of fucking cake. I think sarcastically, remembering all too well how difficult that promise was to keep last summer. Reluctantly, I have had a few dates since Brooke, and actually felt a pretty decent connection with this girl I’d hung out with a few times, recently. We shared a love for sports, and she seemed like a good, wholesome girl. The only issue was that she lacked the ability to crumble my resolve with a single look. Something only one person has been able to do. In fact, this new girl, Amber, was coming here tomorrow to meet my parents and to bake cookies. That should be interesting. Despite my sudden onset of anxiety, it didn’t dull my dick one bit from celebrating the news of seeing Brooke again.

“Okay you, can I have your mother again?” She sounded a bit deflated. I felt horrible. I just wanted to scream into the receiver that I hadn’t for one second stopped thinking about her, to reassure her. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. Was she hoping for more of a reaction? Did she regret turning down the heat with me? I sure missed our texts...and photo exchanges.

“Yeah, here she is. See you soon, Brooke,” I handed the phone back to Mom and could hear her muffled reply as I distanced the phone from my ear, “yes, you will”. I’m a douche. I felt badly being so cold, and heaven knows I didn’t want to be. But then again, it was her idea to end the sexting before one of us got hurt. I was just following orders. If I was being totally honest with myself, a part of me deliberately tried to sound disinterested. Perhaps, it was a bit overboard, I had my mother’s presence to blame for that, which I was happy for. But I was angry! And I have been angry for a long time. I was crushed after that conversation months ago and had just started to pick myself up again. I was mad and frustrated that with only one word out of her delicious mouth, she managed to melt me, still. It was bad enough I couldn’t masturbate without thinking of her. Every. Freaking. Time.

I listened as they resumed their conversation and finalized their plans. I guess her flight just landed and she was getting into her rental car now. Which meant she’d arrive in about three hours, considering the wintery conditions outside. I stood, motionless, behind the kitchen island, for multiple reasons, and robotically picked at one of the warm cinnamon rolls in front of me.

Mom hung up the phone with glee and flashed me a mega smile, “This is going to be the most funnest weekend ever!”

I never understood why she insisted on speaking like a toddler whenever she got excited, but hey, to each their own. It was kinda cute in a way, and I was used it. “Yeah, should be great. You remember Amber is coming tomorrow for lunch and cookie fun, right?”

“Yep, all ready for it. I got the ingredients yesterday before you got here and to avoid the storm,” she sang and pranced over to the cabinets to get a mug. “Coffee?”

“Yes, please,” I pulled out a bar stool and continued to finish the roll I had pretty much mangled all the while trying to keep my thoughts focused on less dick-growing topics like dusting and window shopping. But the reality was, I needed to get off my feet before I passed out from either shock or anticipation. “So, what time is Brooke going to be here,” I tried to sound casual, looking down at my food and avoiding eye contact.

“Should arrive around eleven? Give or take. With the snow.” She poured a splash of cream into my cup and tossed in a spoon before turning and placing it, along with the sugar, in front of me. She picked up hers and rested her elbows on the island, across from me, and smiled and sipped. Her long hair cascaded down on either sides of her face and covered her forearms in a cloak of honey-brown spirals sprinkled with a hint of gray. It was a weird thing, watching your parent’s youth fade from them physically, over time. But it didn’t stop her inner child from becoming more boisterous. “I am so excited I can’t even think straight. I hope she got a decent, and safe, car.”

“Well, this is a fun surprise. I didn’t even know she was coming,” I began, swirling the sugar into the steaming brew in front of me. “Need me to fix up the spare room?” Then it hit me. the guest bedroom and mine were divided by a thin, not insulted, wall. About ten years ago, we had decided to convert the large room into two smaller ones to accommodate guests. Literally, once we laid our heads down in our separate beds tonight, we’d be less than three feet apart. I’d be able to hear her breathe for God’s sake.

“Nope, I got it ready yesterday. And yeah, she’s been feeling extra lonely lately. I could hear it in her voice the last few months,” I looked up at her as she continued, “and I had this idea. Since Kara won’t be flying home for Christmas this year because she’s still on that European backpacking adventure, the spare room is free.”

“That’s nice of you, Mom.” I smiled and took a slow sip of coffee. “You’re a good friend.” Lonely? For a few months? Interesting.

“You haven’t heard the idea yet, silly,” she stood and put on an oven mitt to take out the sizzling bacon. “You know Henry, the neighbor?” She began placing strands of the greasy, heaven-in-your-mouth, strips onto a large paper towel.

“Yeah, what about him?” I could feel my gut sink. Don’t say it, Mom. Please...do not...

“I invited him to dinner tonight,” she exclaimed, and turned to flash me a toothy grin of brilliance. “This could work, right? He’s so nice!”

Fuck no it won’t! There is no way in hell I am about to let some retired jackass who flaunted his excessive amounts of money like a teenager who’d just won the lottery would. No fucking way. Over my dead body. She deserves better than that. She deserves someone like...me.

“He doesn’t seem her type, Mom,” I muttered as if I knew what her type would be. I once thought it was me, but now I wasn’t sure about anything. We used to tell each other so much, and once it had gotten to the point where we couldn’t talk without it getting filled with sexual tension, she had backed off and it fizzled out almost completely. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t a day that went by that I woke up not wanting to wish her a good morning. Or a night that passed that I didn’t think about asking her what she was wearing as she slid into bed, or what she’d do after she flicked off the lights. After a few weeks of silence, I had assumed she’d moved on from me entirely. Perhaps even found someone new. The thought made the blood boil. Thinking of someone else’s hands roaming over her sweaty skin, experiencing her hypnotic sexuality and making her beg was something I apparently wasn’t equipped to handle. My face was on fire with fury. “He’s old.” Fuck this guy.

She laughed, “Ouch! He’s only forty-nine. Seventy is old, dude.”

I grit my teeth. “Well, I guess we’ll soon find out.” I shoved the rest of my pastry into my mouth and grabbed two strips of bacon. “I’m gonna take a quick shower. I’ll help you straighten up after, okay?”

“Of course, Bud.” She stood, smiling and eating bacon, as she flipped through this month’s Better Living magazine. I smirked at the sight of her happy, despite the jealousy permeating inside of me.

My dick was still unsure of the direction it was going to be allowed to venture, but remained alert with anticipation, regardless. Thinking of her, here, with another asshat trying to get her in bed thinking he could possibly cheer her up, or worse, fulfill her, made my skin crawl. How on earth was I going to make it through dinner watching him try to meander his way into her pants. But maybe it was for the best. If I were any sort of decent human being, I’d focus on reality and the fact that I had become invested in seeing if a relationship with Amber could pan out. I wasn’t being entirely fair to that current situation and I knew there was no way I’d be able to give it my all if I continued to pine over a woman not only significantly older than me, but also way out of my league. Especially if she was over me. I inhaled until my lungs couldn’t stretch any farther and locked the bathroom door behind me.

I walked to the sink and looked at myself in the mirror. I looked older than I did this summer. I had been wearing my goatee closely shaved, rather than taking it off completely. It definitely added a few years. It made me feel more seasoned, in a way. Which, thanks to Brooke, I was. I wonder what Brooke will think, or feel, when she sees me again. In person. I wonder how I’ll feel. I twisted the dial until the setting was a scolding one-hundred and five degrees and haphazardly tried to empty my bladder through my stone-hard dick before getting in.

The heat of the water distracted me from my aggression but only fueled my arousal. The glass doors were fogged, cloaking me in a wall of steam. I didn’t have to look down at myself to know I needed a release. Especially before she arrived. The throbbing along my shaft and deep into my gut only intensified with each passing second I had her in my head. I remember the first time I saw her this past summer, both of us completely sex deprived and pent up. It wasn’t my most controlled of times. The idea of seeing her within hours made my entire core vibrate just enough to torturously fill my nuts with an atomic-worthy explosion. I tried to visualize Amber, but the craving I still held for Brooke overpowered the rationale inside my head. Amber didn’t stand a chance. Brooke was just too goddamn appealing to me. No matter how I spun it. No matter what our agreement was. I knew the moment she walked through that door, I’d have a hard time keeping my attraction from being exposed. Her presence was spell-binding, like a bee to pollen. The only chance I had at maintaining any dignity once our eyes landed on each other was to deplete myself as much as humanly possible. I reached up and grabbed the body gel off the shelf and squeezed a good amount into my palm. Pine mixed with hints of apple filled the shower as I began to cover myself in the smooth wash. Once all the necessary places had been cleaned, of course giving myself little teases in the process, I was left ready to imagine Brooke’s swollen lips around my, now raging, hard-on.

I slowly penetrated my tight, slippery, fist, and closed my eyes. It already felt like heaven and I’d only made it halfway down my thick shaft. I had Brooke pinned to the shower door, water and soap dripping down her naked body, her plump ass pressed against the glass while her legs wrapped around my waist. She gyrated against my cock with intent and urgency. I held her firmly to support her weight with only one arm, leaving my other hand free to guide my cock slowly, and deliberately, into her ravenous pussy. I could hear her moans in my ears as if she was really here with me, bringing me closer to release. My hand moved up and down slowly, gently squeezing each time I got close to the tip. My goal was to edge as long as possible in order to drain as much as I possibly could from within my insatiable balls. But my hunger for her was too powerful and it had been a while since I’d felt these waves of lust so vividly. I couldn’t contain the gratification any longer. With my hand pressed firmly against the frame of the door, I began to fuck my hand harder. I craved this woman and needed to explode inside of her again, and I was close. I kept my eyes firmly sealed to avoid seeing the reality of my situation and let the creative images of her silky, wet, body wrapped around me flood my mind. I loosened my grip a bit and focused on the tip of my head to amp up my arousal further. Panting, I tried to be as quiet as humanly possible. I was used to being alone in my apartment but keeping the sounds that escaped my mouth to a quiet minimum, was something I couldn’t forget to do, with these thin-ass walls. Warm moisture began to leak from me as the pressure continued to collect from the job my palm was delivering. She felt so good. I missed the way she’d make me wait. The way she made me feel like I’d die if she didn’t touch me. I needed to have her again. Yet this was the only way I could have her. In my mind.

I resumed my strokes to a strong hold and slowly squeezed myself through my fingers. I wasn’t able to completely close the gap around my thickness, but it didn’t matter. The urgency to grab onto something with both hands, as if I were actually with Brooke, began to magnify as my balls slowly geared for combustion. The fingers I had splayed across the wet glass cramped and flexed as they would have had they been digging into her silky flesh. I pumped into my palm faster like I was angry at the fucking world, and making it pay for all the turmoil I’d been though these last few months. A part of me was angry. You feel this, Brooke? How I stretch you? How I make you quiver when I’m inside of you. Take all of me and feel it. Miss it! I pounded without caution. That outdated excuse of a man will never make you as wet as I can. My legs began to weaken at the thought of her stimulation and every muscle and tendon inside me constricted. I was greedy to surrender my orgasm to her. My eyelids were getting sore from holding them closed for so long, yet I couldn’t stop visualizing Brooke’s smooth pussy, widened because of my strained girth. I could feel her nails dig into my ass as I pumped my fingers harder around me to mimic her pulsing walls. The throbbing between my legs began to collect as I fucked my hand with all the caged-up frustration and hurt I’d been holding in. When the nerves inside of me began to erupt, I squeezed myself harder to replicate the feeling of her orgasm and exploded onto the wall in front of me. I continued to draw out my release by slowly, and forcefully, massaging out every ounce of me, hoping for the rapture to continue. Like she taught me. I opened my eyes and watched as my juices disappeared down the drain. I kept surging and pouring out my lust for her. Every squirt I relinquished sent waves of intense satisfaction and sexual calmness over my entire body. I didn’t want it to ever end.

After being utterly spent, I placed both hands against the wall and let the hot water fall over me as I collected my breath. I panted and almost couldn’t maintain being upright, just as it had been with her this past summer. I couldn’t believe that even being alone, with Brooke on my mind, was more fulfilling than any in-person, sexual encounter I’ve ever had with anyone other than her. That woman. What the fuck has she done to me? Would I ever be able to feel this way about someone else? I slowly stood and washed myself off, removing the shower head to clean the evidence off the wall. When the final remnants of soap and semen washed down the drain, I turned off the water and dried my relaxed body. I already felt much better, physically anyway, and was confident I was now in the best shape I could be in to see her again. But a part of me knew very well that it didn’t matter how often I came, I’d always be ready for her. This, was a real concern.

Chapter Two

The house was spotless. It was an open floor plan for the most part, with three bedrooms lining one side and floor-to-ceiling windows lining most of the others. With the current snow flurries, it truly was a cozy little cabin. Growing up here prevented me from realizing its charm, until now. The fan in the middle of the cathedral ceiling slowly turned, pushing down the warm air from the fireplace. Mom was taking her turn showering and I plopped my ass into our oversized and over-used couch. I stared intently at the roaring flames in front of me and allowed the images of this summer to carry me away. The large gray rocks lining the mantel and wall brought back memories of sitting with Brooke by her fire at the campsite and caressing her leg. I swallowed the ball of saliva that had been collecting in my mouth and tried to will away the want still festering inside me.

I turned my focus a bit to the right and looked out the massive window revealing the driveway. My Jeep was almost completely buried in snow and I suddenly realized Brooke would be pulling in soon. Shit, she’s going to slip and kill herself! I flung myself off the couch and made my way over to the door in a panic, tripping on the leg of the coffee table in the process. Fuck. Ramming my feet into my Dad’s boots, I grabbed my coat and gloves and shot outside to shovel the walkway. Within seconds my nose felt like it was about to fall off. I hadn’t forgotten how much I despised the frigid Wisconsin air and living in Texas made it that much harder to adjust. Damn, why do people choose to live in this hell?

The snow was damp and heavy as gold so I treated it like a workout and tried to utilize as many of my muscles as I could while flinging shovelfuls of the white nuisance halfway across the front yard. Once the entry was adequately cleared for walking, and my back was on fire, I started the driveway. As I made my way to the rear of my car, I heard an engine behind me. My gut twisted and I closed my eyes. She’s here. I turned and watched as a red Buick sedan slowly approached the driveway, behind the steering wheel was her silhouette. Her hair was in a ponytail, but I couldn’t make out much more through the snow and glare from her windshield. It didn’t prevent my heart from feeling like it was about to explode. I opened my arm and directed her to park right behind mine next to the path I had just made so she’d be able to exit her car without stepping in snow. There she is. Smiling and excited. The only sound I could hear was the hammering in my chest. She opened her door and I stood there, like a statue, unsure of how to react and just hoping I wouldn’t pass out. At least my dick was currently behaving. For now.

“Evan!” She squealed and made two fists with her hands and shook them in front of her like she was a school aged girl who’d just gotten asked to the dance by her crush. God is she everything.

“Brooke!” I reenacted her adorable display of enthusiasm, keeping the shovel tightly gripped in my left hand. She slammed her door shut and opened her arms as she shimmied over the slippery ground toward me. Her bright red coat made her seem blonder than I remembered but her plump lips were the same agonizingly dark shade of ruby. And shiny. And irresistible. Fuck! Stay down. I swallowed hard to brace for the impact of her slamming against me, however my attempt to stay collected proved futile. I dropped the shovel and slowly allowed myself to wrap my arms around her. Holding her tightly against me. My knees were bent to keep her arms from being stretched, her warm body snuggly cocooned between my thighs. I leaned back slightly and lifted her off the ground. She didn’t move. We didn’t speak. I didn’t want to let her go and it didn’t seem like she wanted me to. She smelled as I remembered, mangos and mischief. I’d have to get my own supply of this body lotion for, memory’s sake. Her familiar scent filled my head and exploded in my chest as flashbacks of her straddling me in the woods bombarded my vision.

“Hi,” she whispered into my ear, her cheek pressed firmly against mine. I wanted so badly to move my face back slightly enough to touch the corners of our mouths together. Just enough to feel the electricity between us. My lips pleaded to slide against hers and experience the bliss we both knew we’d create. But I didn’t and the power of our connection was so intense that it trickled down my neck and snaked its branches around each of my nipples, taunting them.

“Hi,” I whispered back, moving my face upward just enough to move our touching skin and provoke the already entangled hurricane growing inside of me. We didn’t say anything else after that and continued to hold our bodies together. Motionless. Both afraid to move, or not wanting to.

“Brooke!” Mom’s voice sailed over toward us from the front door. She jumped back out of my arms and I bent over to retrieve the shovel.

Fuck. That had to have looked odd. Mom no doubt just saw me lifting Brooke off the ground for God’s sakes. How in the crap was I going to explain that?

“I’ll grab your bag from the car, Brooke,” I hollered after as she ran, carefully, over to my mother.

“Thank you, Evan,” she yelled back to me, totally cool and collected. As if that hug hadn’t affected her like it had me. “It’s just the one in the back seat.”

Don’t read into things, man. You felt it. She felt it. She’s just covering our tracks.

I walked over and opened the door to find a small, neutral colored, plaid suitcase. On top of it was her purse. I grabbed both and shut the door with my hip. I flung the purse handle over my head, letting it dangle in front of me, and with the shovel in one hand and her carry-on in the other, I made my way toward the house.

As I approached the doorway, I could hear them laughing. I smiled as I watched them chatter while Mom took her jacket. She wore a white turtleneck that hugged each of her beautiful breasts and her skin-tight jeans outlined her beautifully sculpted legs. Not only did she look like the perfect holiday snack, her allure was literally oozing out of her and crawling along the floor right toward me. The sound of Brooke’s laughter was laced with the same seductive-without-trying tune I remember vividly and watching her neck pulse with each giggle made my eyes dilate with need. Damn man, come on. It’s been like eleven seconds. At least try and cool it until after dinner. I broke my creeper gaze and placed her pocketbook on the island and her suitcase on the floor below it. Then I stood there. Watching. Like a creep. Which would definitely be noticeable if either of them turned to me, so I went over to the plate of wrapped cinnamon rolls and peeled up the side to get one out. I didn’t want to leave the room and wasn’t sure how the rest of the day was going to pan out but eating seemed like the best way to keep my ass in her presence.

“Thank you for bringing my stuff in, Evan,” Brooke spoke over to me, grabbing my attention away from my sweet snack, which I’d apparently gotten quite into because for a moment there I had forgotten about the bulge waiting patiently between my legs. If I was going to expect to have a goddamn chubby the entire time she was here, I’d have to plot out time to release myself more frequently. Nobody liked a sexually deprived Evan. I wished she’d be willing to help me with that. Having my balls ready to burst for prolonged periods of time was never a good look for me. I’d learned that the hard way. It was bad enough that every time the woman spoke a frantic blood rush to my crotch ensued. Let alone not being able to do anything about it, well, with her anyway. Anymore.

“Anytime,” I answered her, with a mouth full of chewed, sugary goodness. If only carbs could curb this intangible hunger. I’d gladly welcome obesity at this point. “Want me to bring your bag to your room?”

“No, I got it. You’ve already done enough,” she came closer to the opposite side of the island and Mom went to throw some more logs on the fire. We were now across from each other. “Where’s Mitch?”

“He’ll be home from work sometime around six. Give or take traffic and the roads,” Mom yelled over from the other side of the room. She stood and joined us at the island. “You guys hungry?”

“I could eat,” I blurted, and looked over at Brooke then immediately back at my mom with a stunned look. Smooth.

Brooke blushed, “I’m starving actually. I tried to find something at the airport, but it was all crap, and the roads were too bad to stop on the way here. Plus, I wanted to see you as quickly as I could.”

She said that to my mom but made sure to shoot me a sideways glance. There it was. I knew it. There was still tension there for her. At some point, I’d need to be alone with her and figure out where we both stood with one another. Coming from such an intense place before, and then carrying on with it, granted virtually, had given me a false sense of commitment to her. I wasn’t interested in anyone else, nor was I remotely interested in looking, so when she decided to end it before one of us got hurt, I was crushed. Not only because I felt we had something fucking real, but because there wasn’t a single day that followed that I didn’t fantasize about touching this woman. And now here she was, an arms-length away, and Amber would be here tomorrow. One big, multi-entangled, web.

She walked over to her luggage, grabbed it, passing by my side of the island. Why? I didn’t know, but I could smell her as she neared, and my balls tightened in response. Was she filled with as much anticipation as I was? Was part of the reason she came here because she missed me? Maybe? “Where’m I goin’?”

Stop obsessing, Evan. Have some goddamn self-respect.

“Follow me,” I answered, before Mom got a chance to, and shoved the rest of the pastry into my mouth before reaching for her suitcase. “Allow me.”

“If you insist, Hercules,” she blushed. I slowed my chewing, deliberately, and looked her right in the eye. I watched as her throat bobbed to swallow. Mom missed the exchange, luckily, while she prepped a platter of nachos behind us. I licked the glaze off my bottom lip and exposed my upper teeth in the process before breaking the stare. I will see you naked before you leave here. Make no mistake of that, Ms. Brooke. If it’s the last goddamn thing I do.

I gripped the leather handle, methodically brushing the side of her hand with mine. The same reaction of hot electricity ran through my arm, like it did earlier, outside, when our cheeks touched. Her thumb twitched, as I expected, as I held my eyes to her face. She took a small piece of her lower lip into her mouth and let it bounce out, slowly, from underneath her clenched teeth. The plump wetness of it sent waves of need throughout me and reminded me of the first time I saw her climbing down that ladder directly over my hungry face. My dick pulsed with enthusiastic compliance.

I forced myself to turn and walk the few steps over to our rooms. Mine was closest to the corner of the kitchen, and my parents claimed the other, leaving the spare bedroom and bathroom in between. She was close behind me as I entered where she’d be spending the next two nights. I flung her suitcase onto the queen mattress and walked over to the thermostat and turned it up to seventy. It was a little too cool in here.

“Sorry it’s so cold in here. Each room has its own setting and, apparently, we forgot to adjust it before you got here. It will heat up in a few minutes.” I turned and looked at her. She stood at the head of her bed, running the frills of the pillowcase between her fingers.

“Thank you,” she answered and put her purse next to her suitcase. “But I have a few things to keep me warm.”

“Agreed,” I replied with no hesitation. “I mean, good. How have you been, Brooke?”

“I’ve been, okay,” she began, and reached down to open her purse. Breaking eye contact. “Sort of in a rut ever since...”

“Since?” I interrupted. On purpose.

She looked up at me. “Since...well, you.”

“Oh yeah?” I swallowed hard.

“I know it was the right decision,” she veered off track.

No! Get back on that train! I promise it will be worth it.

“But that doesn’t mean I don’t...miss,” she looked up from her bag and into my eyes, “you.”

“You miss me.” It wasn’t a question, and I needed to remind myself to play by her rules. I couldn’t let her know I wanted to jump her right now and that I was thankful for the bed barrier. I didn’t even care that my mom was literally fifteen feet away at this point. “I’ve missed it all. Every. Single. Bit of it. But, like you said, it’s for the best.”

“Yeah,” she murmured and inhaled somberly. “I took a stab at dating someone a few weeks ago to try and fill the void and immediately found myself comparing how he could possibly make me feel the way...”

“Nachos are in the oven!” Mom announced. Dammit. It was just about to get good again.

We smiled at the interruption, and although I would do just about anything to hear the rest of her story, I knew what she was about to admit to me. The fact that being with me had left such a comparative mark on her made me smirk internally. I could practically feel my nuts slap each other a celebratory high-five.

Don’t worry, Brooke. I’m still here...and it’s not nachos I’m hungry for.