Waiting for December, page 5
“Okay,” I nod. “I’m ready for full speed, then.”
His eyes light up and he grins before his lips meet mine again, fiercer than before. I feel the snap of that electric attraction tighten my stomach into a knot. He’d been holding back.
He only breaks off the kiss to reach down for my shirt and pull it over my head. I reach down for his in return, yanking it out of his jeans before starting to undo the buttons. He sits back, kneeling as he finishes the job himself.
Oh. He definitely has more than one ab. Closer to six. Possibly eight. I don’t bother getting an exact count because he’s back over me again, kissing my neck and my stomach. Then even lower.
Yeah.
Good call on opting for full speed ahead.
I grip the comforter with my hands as Sky tugs my pants off and starts planting little kisses on the soft skin between my thighs. After, he moves his mouth to my panty line and starts kissing me there.
Definitely good call.
I’m already more heated than I’ve ever been, and there’s still a layer of lace between us. As I imagine what will happen once that lace is pulled back, my body begins to quiver.
Unreal.
Seriously, is this actually happening?
Some guys can’t even get me to this place after a full night of foreplay and sex. Sky’s managing to accomplish it just by me picturing his mouth reaching its next destination.
He holds my hips steady, continuing to kiss the same spot until a whimper escapes from the back of my throat. I guarantee that sound made it all the way down the hall, possibly even down the stairs. As Sky kisses his way back up my stomach, I apologize for not being able to keep that sound in. He doesn’t seem the least bit concerned. He looks more pleased than anything.
“I like that sound,” he whispers against my neck. “I want to hear you make it again.”
He raises my hands above my head and runs his hands down my body, convincing me that he’s going to not only pull more whimpers from me but also inspire sounds I’ve never even heard myself make.
It’s not that I’ve had bad chemistry with men I’ve dated in the past. I wouldn’t have gotten engaged without chemistry. It’s more that this is next-level, mind-blowing chemistry—and apparently quite rare, because I’m twenty-nine years old and only now experiencing desire like this.
I reach down for the button on Sky’s pants and start to undo it. “Condom,” I breathe.
Sky lets out a groan against my neck. It’s not the good kind, though.
He pushes himself up and looks down at me, panting. “Please tell me you have one in your luggage.”
“Why would I have one?” I prop myself up on my elbows. “I wasn’t planning to go out with anyone during my time here.”
He drops his head and groans again.
“You don’t have one in yours?” Not that I want to think about Sky with other women right now, but he’s single and isn’t on a three-month sabbatical to find himself like I am.
“I was coming to town for one night to see my family. And I don’t normally sleep with women I just met.” The part of me that’s crushing on him likes this answer, but the part of me that wants to have sex with him is seriously crushed by it.
“What about in here?” I look around his room. At this point, I’m prepared to search every drawer top to bottom.
“I might, but nothing with a valid expiration date. The last time I brought a girl into this bedroom, I was eighteen.”
I let out a groan too as Sky rolls off of me to stare up at the ceiling.
“Maybe it’s for the best,” I sigh, trying to convince myself. Unfortunately, no matter how many times I repeat the mantra in my head, I can’t make myself believe it.
I want this.
I roll toward him and prop my head up with my hand. “How far is the nearest corner store?”
He exhales as he rolls toward me. “Everything here closes early. Small town.”
“And here I thought I was going to like small towns. Now I’ve already got a problem with them.”
He laughs as he lies back down, resting his hands behind his head.
Then he yawns.
Not just a little yawn. A yawn so big it’s immediately clear he’s fighting off the deepest kind of sleep.
I’m not sure why this upsets me, but it does. Maybe I’m projecting my frustration with the situation onto him. Or maybe the insecure part of me that’s still reeling from being left abruptly by someone I thought I was going to marry is worried that he was only feeding me lines, and that I mean less to him than I was originally thinking. Maybe not being able to find a condom was for the best, after all.
I get to my feet.
“Where are you going?” Sky asks.
I pause. I hadn’t really thought about it. “The bathroom,” I say. “I might as well get ready for bed.”
Sky’s on his feet now. I hear his footsteps behind me, then feel his arms circle my waist. He turns me around toward him.
“I’m sorry,” he says, tilting my chin up.
“For what?” I try to play it cool because I realize I’m overreacting.
“For yawning.” I like that he knows this is why I was upset. I wasn’t expecting him to read my mind—I usually make a point to communicate well—but it’s comforting to know he picked up on what bothered me.
“Do you know why I was wearing a pilot uniform on the plane that I wasn’t flying?”
I shrug. I honestly hadn’t thought about it. I guess I should have.
“I flew a plane that left Amsterdam at 2:00 a.m. Vermont time to Atlanta. Then caught the flight to Vermont after we landed.”
“You mean you haven’t slept in . . .”
“Almost twenty-four hours,” he says, finishing the count.
I know Sky intended this to be reassuring news, but I’m not so sure it is.
“So you could be completely delusional right now?”
“Not a chance.” He’s already looking into my eyes, but now he brings a hand to my cheek. “I’m even more aware of everything when I’m sleep-deprived because I’m focused, not on autopilot. If I were on autopilot, I would have passed out a long time ago. That you managed to keep me so alert all night speaks to how into you—and into us—I am.”
And there he goes, winning me over again.
“I’m bummed about not being able to have sex too, believe me,” he says, pulling me closer to him so I can feel the truth of his statement. “But just think.” He pulls back to look at me again. “The next time I see you, there will be even more of a buildup. And you know what that means, right?”
When I say nothing, he smiles. “You and I, lady, are going to have one very Merry Christmas.”
“Oh, God.” I press a hand to my head. “My date for the holidays is a total cheeseball.”
He reaches down and scoops me up, throwing me over his shoulder. “Oh, yeah!” he says as he carries me toward the attached bathroom. “He’s the cheesiest!”
I guess he’s forgiven.
—
Once we return to Sky’s bed, he pulls back the covers and tells me to pick whatever side I want. I slide into the covers on the side closest to the door, leaving Sky the window. I wasn’t thinking about it when I made my choice, but now Sky has to climb over the top of . . .
Yep.
He’s hovering right above me again.
Great.
We briefly glance at each other’s lips, but Sky shakes his head and continues all the way across, letting out a loud grunt as his head hits the pillow.
“I’m going to pass out so hard,” he says, sliding one arm under me and the other over my waist.
“Nope,” I say, peeling his top arm off. “I can’t sleep with you touching me.”
“What?”
“Seriously,” I say pushing him off. “I like the idea of cuddling during sleep, but in reality, I’ll lie awake all night if your arms are wrapped around me like that.”
He moans as he pulls his arms back. “I guess we found another thing we don’t have in common.”
“Is it a deal breaker?”
We’re both on our sides now, facing each other.
“Nice try,” he says, reaching out and tickling my chin. “You’re not wiggling your way out of this pact.”
I laugh again and push his hand back. “Luckily for you, I don’t want to. You’ve officially sold me on it.”
His grin grows wider, and he leans in and presses his lips to mine. His breath tastes like spearmint, and I smile remembering how he kept making funny faces in the mirror as we brushed our teeth together, trying to get me to laugh.
I’m starting to think I’d really enjoy sleepovers with Sky, despite the differing cuddling preferences.
Speaking of sleeping preferences . . .
“Do you snore?” I ask. I know I don’t have a right to care about his answer, considering I snore quite loud. But I’m a light sleeper. And given how exhausted Sky is, I bet he’s going to fall asleep first, so he probably won’t hear me, but if he snores, I’ll hear him.
“I do,” he says. “But it’s a cute snore.”
“What the heck does that mean?”
He shrugs. “No idea, I’ve never heard it. I’ve just been told it’s cute.”
I try not to think about the other women who have slept beside him and let him know this.
“Only by my brother and sisters when we were kids, of course,” he adds with a completely straight face. “No one else has ever slept in the same room as me.”
I smile against my pillow. I’m not sure what’s cuter—that he can read my mind or that he’s trying to make me feel as if I’m the only woman he’s ever been with.
“What time do you need to be at work?” Sky’s eyes are closed, but he’s still facing me, and I can tell he’s listening by the curious expression on his face.
“I have to be there at eight. I set my alarm for six, just to be safe.”
“Great. I’ll drop you off on the way to the airport.” He leans in and kisses me again without opening his eyes.
“Goodnight, Harper,” he says against my lips.
“Goodnight, Sky,” I say after we break apart.
—
Ten minutes later, I roll onto my back and stare up at the ceiling. It’s always strange to sleep in an unfamiliar room, and it usually takes me some time to feel comfortable sleeping next to a new guy. Tonight seems different, though. I already feel so at ease with Sky. Maybe I’ll pass out quickly too.
I close my eyes, then realize my body is still overheated from our interaction before. I open my eyes and kick my leg out from under the covers. There, that’s better.
I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and then I hear it: Sky’s snore.
I open my eyes and look at him, listening as he inhales and exhales. Wow, I smile, lying back down and closing my eyes for good.
It really is totally cute.
five
AT THE BREAKFAST table the following morning, I text my parents and send a message in my group chat with Zoe and Grace. I forgot to let them know that I made it to Stowe safe last night. I decide to save details about what “safe” means for later (for one of those group chats, at least).
Went home with a hot, romantic pilot with major potential and we made a pact to reunite on Christmas Eve.
I also write a thank-you note to Sky’s parents on stationery I had in my suitcase mentioning how wonderful (downright terrible) it was to meet them and how much I’m looking forward to (completely dreading) seeing them again on Christmas Eve.
I have time to do all this because Sky and I are the only ones up this early, and he’s busy working on his computer. He was working when I woke up this morning too. I’m admittedly a little bummed that this is how he’s choosing to spend our last bit of time together. But I get that he has a job and obligations he might have put off last night on account of me staying over.
My own job should be where my mind is this morning, anyway. I glance down at my phone to check the time, noting that I’ll be an official employee of Hudson Lane in exactly thirty minutes.
Sky’s aware of the time too, even though he’s still typing. “One minute and then we’ll leave,” he tells me without looking up. “You feeling ready?”
I nod, though I’m more nervous than ready. I barely touched the bagel Sky toasted me. This is a big day in many ways. New job. New responsibilities. The real beginning of my Vermont Bucket List. Not to mention I have to say goodbye to Sky, which I couldn’t have imagined would be an item on my agenda when I left Atlanta yesterday morning.
Yesterday morning!
I can’t believe it’s only been one full day since I left. It seems so much longer than that. So much has happened.
Okay, one thing—a whirlwind romance—but still.
“Finished.” Sky finally closes his laptop.
About time. I can’t help the thought from popping into my head, but I know I’d be totally out of line to verbalize it.
—
Fortunately, on the car drive to the inn, Sky is much more talkative and present. The energy between us feels just as strong as it did yesterday, which fills me with relief because a part of me was starting to worry that maybe last night was a fluke.
Now I see that couldn’t be further from the truth. He’s holding my hand over the center console, asking me questions, and cracking jokes. When we pass by a park filled with trees flaunting their yellow and red leaves, he even shares a childhood memory, telling me about when the park once hosted a meet and greet with Santa and his reindeer. Apparently, Sky saw Santa leave and didn’t realize he was only headed to the bathroom. Thinking the reindeer had been left behind, he unhooked them from the sleigh and each other and told them to go find Santa.
“I was so proud of myself,” he says, “because I thought I was doing the right thing. But when they inevitably took off and disappeared, I felt like the whole town hated me for being the kid who lost Santa’s reindeer.” He laughs with a shake of his head, and I laugh too, even though it’s kind of sad imagining little Sky being shunned for trying to do something so sweet.
The only problem with the way this is going is that the drive is not long enough.
We pull up to Hudson Lane before I feel ready to (a) meet my new bosses, Mr. and Mrs. Hudson, and (b) part ways with Sky.
He turns to me then. “Why an inn?”
“Sorry?”
“Why did you decide to work at an inn?”
Ah. I wondered when I’d get this question.
“A product of watching too many rom-coms following my failed engagement,” I grin. “As you mentioned when we first met, many of those movies feature a character who inherits or is gifted an inn after hitting rock bottom. I don’t have many deceased relatives, fortunately, nor rich relatives, unfortunately. But it got me thinking that if I wasn’t going to magically inherit a bed-and-breakfast, maybe I could get a job working at one while I figured out what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. I didn’t want the romance”—I glance at Sky a little apologetically—“but I wanted the quiet to figure myself out.”
I wonder if Sky is about to judge me for my choices or my logic.
But he says, “I think it’s great.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. You’ve got an exciting adventure ahead of you,” he says, waving a hand at the inn in front of us. I briefly take in the brick facade, white-painted cedar siding and black clapboard shutters, noting that it’s even more charming in person than in the pictures, before unbuckling my seat belt and returning my attention to him.
“I do,” I say. “But I’m also enjoying the adventure of meeting you.”
Sky responds to my comment with a kiss. I can tell he meant for that one kiss to be it because he pulls right back after delivering it. But seconds later he comes in for a second, and I hear his seat belt unclick. I feel that sound in my stomach, the anticipation building. He scoots in even closer, placing his hands on my face as his lips find mine again and again—and again. I’m swept up in the sensation of his lips on mine and of his hands sliding into my hair but force myself to pull away and push Sky back, sticking out a hand to ensure we keep our distance. Messy hair and flushed cheeks won’t be a good look for my first day.
“I can’t get fired before I even start.”
“You’re right.” Sky leans his head back against his headrest, trying to catch his breath. “I’m sorry. I can’t seem to control myself when I’m around you.”
I flush. I happen to feel the exact same way.
“I promise, hands off for good now.” He holds them up with his palms out. I appreciate him listening to me, but now all I can think about is how much I want his hands touching me again. “At least until Christmas Eve.”
“So you’ll be here then?” I’m fishing for confirmation that we still stand where we did last night, because we haven’t talked about our pact at all this morning.
“Oh, I’ll definitely be here,” he says. “And if you want to read about just how excited for it I am, check your email when you can.”
“My email?”
“Yeah, for your first letter. I wrote it this morning, and it should have hit your inbox just before I closed my laptop. I found your email address on your LinkedIn page.”
“That’s what you were doing on your computer all morning?”
He nods.
He wasn’t spending his time working. He was writing me.
“How many days is it until Christmas Eve, exactly?”
He laughs. “Ninety-seven.” That was too fast for him to have just done the math. And I know he didn’t make the number up because I too already counted this morning.
I smile a big, goofy grin. I can’t help it. Who knew when I applied for this inn gig after watching too many romantic comedies that I’d end up living a rom-com of my very own?
It’s about time, I think.
For the past six months, I’ve been a casualty to someone else’s plot.
Now I’m finally in my own damn plot. And I like it much better.
“So I’ll see you in ninety-seven days?”
“See you in ninety-seven days.” Sky’s hands are gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles are white. It’s cute how hard he’s trying to honor my wishes.
