SHAWN KNOCKS on my door when I still have a towel wrapped around my body.
“Coming,” I call out. I hurry across my living room and unlock the door. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Shawn says, and he grins. “I didn’t know the dress code for tonight was towel casual.”
“Who needs black tie when you can wear terry cloth instead?” I joke. “Come in. I just need to get dressed, clearly, then I’ll be ready to go.”
“Take your time. I can keep myself occupied for a few minutes. You’ll let me snoop through your drawers, right?” he asks.
“Check out the one to the left of the stove. That’s where I keep all the good stuff.”
“Oh.” Shawn sticks out his arm, and I notice the bouquet of hibiscus flowers he’s holding. “These are for you.”
“They’re beautiful,” I whisper, and I lean forward to smell the petals. “Where did you find flowers this late in the year? I thought everything died two months ago. Maybe it’s just me. I can’t even keep a cactus alive.”
“I bought them from a greenhouse down in Florida. The guy who owns the place was happy to send me one in every color.”
“Another local business where your photo is on their wall,” I say. “My parents live down in Florida.”
“Do they? I’m sorry you can’t see them for the holidays. I’m stealing you away.”
“You aren’t stealing me away. I’m going willingly. My dad has some health issues, so this time of year raises his stress levels. We do a Christmas celebration in late January, and they leave up their decorations until Valentine’s Day.”
“Is your dad doing okay?” Shawn asks, and the sincerity in his question makes me smile.
“He’s doing much better. I’m working with his insurance to cover some of his hospital stays and it’s a little overwhelming. Healthcare in our country is obscenely expensive, but he’s home, and that’s all that matters.”
“There really ought to be a law that says people who work in the medical field get free healthcare for their family,” Shawn says. “Seems fair to me.”
“Ah. If only. If you decide to run for president, that could be your platform. You’d have my vote.”
“And it’s the only one that counts.”
“My mom is a little disappointed she doesn’t get to meet the great Shawn Holmes, but she’ll get over it.” I laugh and lean against the wall. “She thinks you’re cute.”
“I am cute.”
“I know you are.”
His cheeks turn pink, and so do the tips of his ears. He scuffs his shoe against the hardwood floor and clears his throat. “Maybe I could meet them sometime. We could take a trip down. I like Florida, just not in the summer.”
“You want to meet my parents?” I ask.
It’s the first time he’s ever mentioned an us after New Year’s Eve.
A we.
The possibility of this situation we’ve found ourselves in continuing past our end date hangs in the air like a question mark instead of a period. A comma, perhaps.
Something open-ended rather than closed off and punctuated.
I know we’ll still be friends on January 1st and beyond; we vowed that would never, ever change.
But wanting to meet my parents goes past what a friend would do, right?
Shawn shrugs. “You’re meeting mine. Of course I want to meet yours.”
“Right. Yeah. We could—we’ll see if we can work anything out.” I push off the wall and point to the bouquet. I need a distraction from thinking about the future with this man. “I’ve never seen a violet hibiscus before. It’s gorgeous. Could you put them in water for me? The vases are in the hall closet.”
“You got it. Go get ready. I’ll be on flower duty,” he says.
“Thanks.” I squeeze his shoulder and head for my bedroom. “I was indecisive on a dress, but I finally found one I liked.”
“What color did you go with?” he asks, and his voice echoes down the hall. “The pictures you sent me earlier almost had the whole rainbow. You were just missing orange.”
“I decided on red,” I say. I crack the door to my bedroom and drop my towel. “I thought it was festive.”
I rummage through my dresser and find the green strapless lace bra I’m going to wear tonight. I clasp the hooks together and slide it up my chest. The underwear matches, and I look like one of the Christmas ornaments hanging on my tree.
“Flowers are done,” Shawn calls out, and I grab my dress off the bed.
“Okay. Two more minutes and I’ll be ready.” I pull on the zipper at the back of the gown, but it doesn’t budge. “Shit.”
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” I yank on the zipper again, and it doesn’t wiggle an inch. “Okay, I lied. The zipper on my dress is stuck. I’m afraid I’m going to rip it if I pull any harder.”
“Want me to try?” he asks, and his voice is closer than before.
“Please. If I can’t get this up, I’m not sure what else I can wear.”
“I think one of the other eight dresses you have would be just fine.” He knocks on my bedroom door. “Can I come in?”
“I’m, uh, not wearing any clothes. Well, that’s not true. I’m wearing underwear.”
There’s a pause before Shawn speaks again. “I can close my eyes. Or you can hand it to me and I’ll fix it out here.”
“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”
“Doesn’t mean I automatically get to see it again.”
“Right.” I swallow and take a deep breath. “It’s okay. You can come in.”
Shawn pushes the door open, and my room feels smaller than it did three minutes ago. The walls seem like they’re caving in, and heat rushes up my body.
“Where’s the fashion emergency?” he asks, and his eyes stay locked on mine.
I gesture vaguely to the bed—the same bed he saw me get off on—and he nods. He lifts the dress off the mattress and studies the zipper.
“Do you think you can fix it?”
“Yeah.” He uses his teeth to work the zipper down, and I wonder how it would feel if he used his teeth to take off my underwear. “There you go.”
“Wow. That sure was easy.”
“I grew up with two sisters, remember? I could work in fashion if football doesn’t pan out.”
“Thank you,” I say, and our fingers brush as I take the gown from him. A jolt of electricity zips up my arm, and I shuffle backward. “I appreciate you.”
“Don’t mention it. I’m happy to help.” Shawn runs his hand through his hair, then he hitches his thumb over his shoulder. “I should, um, let you get dressed.”
“Could you help me zip it up?” I ask. “In case there are any more snags?”
“Yeah.” He nods, and his eyes darken. They look almost like dark shadows now, a dangerous shade that’s going to get me in trouble. “Of course.”
We both know what I’m doing, and we both know how this ends. I’m playing with fire, but I think I want to burn.
I step into my dress and bring it up and over my hips. I slip the thick straps onto my shoulders, and the satin feels cool on my blazing skin. Shawn watches me, his attention hanging on to my every movement.
I’ve never felt more powerful.
I turn around so my back is almost flush against his chest. His fingers dance across my shoulders and down my spine. He presses his lips to the base of my neck, and I shiver from the heat of his mouth.
“Thank you for helping me,” I whisper.
“It’s my pleasure.”
“I’m thanking you for a lot of things tonight.”
“They’re things I want to do,” he answers, and his words are sin on my bare skin. “Things I like to do.” He tugs on the zipper of the gown and drags it up my spine. It’s torturous, almost, how slow he goes. “Going to take care of you, remember?”
“Yeah.” I nod and rest my head in the crook of his neck. “I remember.”
“You look like a goddess,” he says in my ear, and his teeth nip at my shoulder. “You make me want to lose control.”
“You can, if you want.” I close my eyes and arch my back. “I’d let you.”
“It would make this more than one time between us.”
“Yeah, but we’ve kissed since then. We can be friends who kiss.” I take his hand in mine and trail his touch down my neck. I settle his palm at the top of my chest, and his fingers fan out across my breast. He makes a strangled sound from the back of his throat, and my lips curl into a smile. “Friends who fuck.” I roll my hips and feel him hard behind me, his length pressing into my backside. “Friends who take care of each other. Forget the goddamn rules.”
“Lacey,” he murmurs, and my name is silky smooth. His hand moves down my body and he takes his time, like he’s waiting for me to stop him, but I’m not going to. “Is this what you want?”
“Maybe we can keep having fun until we end our agreement. Be physical. Touch each other and make out. We both want to,” I say. I roll my hips again, and Shawn’s breath catches on an exhale. “We do what we want until New Year’s, then we can go our separate ways. Quit cold turkey.”
“Okay.” He nods into my shoulder, and I wrap my arm around his neck to pull him closer. “I’d like that. I’ve tried to stay away from you, Lacey girl, but it’s damn near impossible.”
“What do you want, Shawn?” I ask, and I kiss the spot on his throat I know he likes.
“Am I not making it obvious enough? I want you,” he answers, and my world stops spinning. “Badly.”
“You have me,” I say, and he bunches my dress at my waist.
His large palm holds the fistful of satin, and I inhale sharply. His other hand snakes around my body and traces the lines of my underwear. When he snaps the elastic against my skin, I’m transported to mind-numbing bliss.
His foot wedges between mine, and he pushes my legs apart. I relax against him and he kisses me soft and slow. There’s tongue and teeth and passion in the way he nips at my bottom lip. I feel him pour every ounce of himself into the press of his mouth, and I meet him just as eagerly, ravenous—starved—for his affection.
It’s like we’re competing to see who can drive the other the most out of their minds, and I think he might be winning.
Shawn’s fingers circle me over my underwear. His thumb presses against my clit, and a low, pleased hum escapes from his mouth.
“Already wet. I love you like this. I love having you like this.”
“How?” I breathe out, and rationality is close to flying out the window. “Horny?”
“No.” His touch is unhurried and lazy, not a care in the goddamn world about how long it takes to get me to where I want to be. “Mine.”
He dips his fingers beneath my thong, and he groans in my ear when he finds the spot between my legs where I’m aching for him to touch.
“Shawn. Please,” I beg, but he doesn’t move any faster. My eyes flutter closed and I feel that gentle pull in my belly, the gradual rise of pleasure building up my spine.
“Do you like that?” he asks. His voice is thick with lust and need drips from his question. Two fingers slip inside me, and he holds me tight against his chest when I cry out and squirm against him.
“Yes,” I pant, and it’s ridiculously close to a plea. “I love when you touch me. You know exactly what to do.”
“Because I know you.” He kisses my neck and his mouth sucks a hot line down my throat. He’s going to leave a mark, and I’m going to show it off. “Best you’ve ever had, right?”
He’s taunting me, teasing me, just the way I like. When I get close to falling over the edge, he pulls me back in a game of tug of war. I’m frustrated. I’m electric. I’m warm all over, and every inch of my body sparkles under his hand.
“No one can take care of me like you do,” I say, and his grip on my waist tightens. I think he might rip my dress when he thrusts his hips forward and rubs his hard length against my ass. “No one treats me right like you do.”
Shawn adds a third finger, and I see stars. My mind goes blank as he tips my chin back and kisses me hard, possessiveness behind every press of his mouth. “Such a good girl for me,” he whispers against my lips, and the praise makes me melt. It makes me grind into his palm, desperate for more. “You’re going to come on my hand, aren’t you, Lacey girl? Then we’ll sit next to our friends and they’ll have no idea I stretched you out. They won’t know I filled your pussy with my fingers to get you ready for my cock. You’re going to be begging me for it, aren’t you? Fucking dripping for it.”
I cry out. Maybe I scream, I don’t know. Whatever noise I make, I transcend from my body as my orgasm crashes into me like a tsunami, wave after wave of delight rolling through me. I writhe against him, riding the high as the circles on my clit turn into a gentle slap, making sure I get every second of pleasure I deserve.
“You’re alright,” Shawn’s soft voice says. “I’ve got you.”
I open my eyes and blink, trying to adjust to the room around me. I wobble on my feet, my legs heavy and aching. Shawn leads me over to the edge of my mattress and pulls me into his lap, holding me tight as my breathing returns to normal.
“Holy shit,” I whisper. There are spots in my vision, and my skin feels tight on my body. “How are you—why do—fuck, you’re good.”
He laughs into my hair and drops a kiss on the top of my head. “Can’t deny we have chemistry.”
“We definitely do.” I let out a content sigh and snuggle into his chest. “Do we have to go to the gala?”
“Might be kind of obvious if we’re both missing,” he says. He kisses my forehead and adjusts the strap of my dress on my shoulder. “You know Maggie will panic.”
“She will.” I sigh again and stretch my arms over my head. “I could sleep for hours, though. I finally found a way to unwind after a stressful day; it’s your fingers.”
“Happy to help.” Shawn smiles and tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. I like that he can’t stop touching me. “Should we get going?”
“Yeah. We can’t show up too late. I want to surprise the shit out of Director Hannaford when I introduce you to him.” I wiggle in his lap, and I feel that he’s still hard. “Do you want me to help you take care of that before we leave?”
“I do, but we’ll save it for next time,” he says. “Since we’re friends who fuck now.”
“I guess we are,” I say, and I give him a slow grin. “Let me freshen up, then we can head out.”
“Okay.” He taps my hip, and I stand up. “I’ll wait for you in the living room.”
I peek a glance at him as I walk to the bathroom, and he’s watching me with soft eyes and the biggest grin. I give him a matching smile in return because I’m happy too, I realize. Shawn makes me happy.
When I’m with him, I feel like I can fly.
