awkward between us. Other than my raging erection that wouldn’t fucking go away.
It didn’t help that she did the entire damn tree dressed in only my t-shirt.
“What is in the other boxes?” she asked after a while. “And weren’t they supposed to come with food by now?”
I looked at my watch to see that it was well past nine.
“Yeah,” I grumbled. “They were.”
There was a knock at the door between our two rooms.
“Have they brought you your food yet? We’re really hungry.”
Brielle, her friend. Or non-friend.
I wasn’t quite sure what the two were to each other.
“No,” Carolina called out. “Nothing.”
Brielle said something more, but it was covered up by the enthusiasm in which Carolina ripped open the boxes.
“It’s a… washing machine.” She frowned. “Like, a tiny, baby washing machine. What the hell?”
In the end, the large box ended up being a washer/dryer combo that people put into RVs.
“Nice,” I said. “No more itchy clothes.”
She went on to the next box while I moved the washer/dryer into the living room in the opposite corner of the tree.
When I got back, she was holding up more clothes.
These looked to be actually hers.
“They’re mine,” she said as she showed me. “I bet that box is yours.”
Sure enough, the other box was mine.
And inside were some running shoes.
She wrinkled her nose when she pulled out her own. “I was kind of hoping that these weren’t in there.”
I snorted and put my box of shit next to my other box of shit.
Her gasp of excitement had me turning toward her to see her holding up a ratty-looking orange bear that might’ve, at one point, been brown.
“That ‘the’ bear?” I asked.
She grinned huge.
“When Connor was born, I got him this bear. But he never used it, and apparently, I took it back. In the end, I was the one using it after that. I love it,” she admitted as she tucked it under her arm and walked it to the bed. “Now, let’s figure out this breakfast thing, because I’m starving after doing all this work.”
• • •
I watched, again, as she dressed behind the sheet.
It was like an erotic show.
The room behind her was bright, making it to where I could see her shadow through the sheet.
And what a shadow it was.
She had hips for days, great full ones that would be awesome to hold on to as I…
“Hey, have you seen White Christmas?” she asked casually as she slipped on some type of clothing over her head.
That didn’t bother me. I wouldn’t allow it to.
“Um, yes,” I said. “A long time ago. Why?”
“Because my mom just sent me a text message saying that it was on, and we watch it every year together. I thought I could watch it in spirit with her,” she explained. “It’s on USA.”
I turned the television to her movie, grateful for something else to do that didn’t have me staring at her breasts swaying, or her hips…
“You found it, good,” she said as she came into the room.
She had a black camisole on with black silky pajama shorts.
She probably felt like a soft fucking dream.
Her long, wet hair hung heavily down her back and front, causing parts of her black camisole to appear darker in spots where the water had met the fabric.
Planting one knee in the bed, she crawled up onto the bed, and the movement made her tits sway under her shirt.
I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting until I felt her get situated before I opened them again.
When I did, it was to get an eyeful of her perky nipple that was perilously close to touching my arm.
I prayed for patience as I turned up the volume on the television, hoping that it would hide my slightly labored breathing.
“I don’t even particularly like this one,” she admitted as she snuggled down farther into the covers. “But you know how traditions go. You have to follow them or you’ll have bad juju your whole next year.”
I blinked and turned my head to look at her. “Bad juju your whole year?”
She shrugged. “Superstitious. Better word for you?”
“We don’t have any family traditions,” I said during the next commercial break. “The most we ever did was get a Fraser Fir every year.”
I gestured to the Christmas tree that was in the corner of the room. A Christmas tree that looked pretty damn cool with the room dark as it was, I had to admit.
“You’re going to have to tell me eventually what kind of pull you have that you can