parents’ is to spend as much time with her as I can before saying goodbye. Knowing goodbye is imminent and resigned to making the most of the time I have with her before that happens. Then she threw the curveball of asking me to join her and her family for Christmas.
I know how important Christmas with her family is to her. I told her my hang-ups with the fucking miserable holiday I’d just as quickly forget exists.
The problem is, she’s likely here through Christmas Eve and if I can get her up to her parents’ by noon on Christmas Day, it’ll be a miracle.
But that doesn’t change the invitation.
An invitation I’m both dying to accept and decline in the same breath.
I don’t want to let London go. But all that time I was upstairs in the shower, I realized one very significant thing.
I can’t ask her to stay.
She lives in New York. She has a life there. An apartment. And she’s literally only been in my home for a little more than a day.
If I tell her where my feelings lie, she’ll likely laugh at me.
Or just smile and nod and say something witty because she’s too sweet to laugh at me. But it’s not like I can actually ask her to stay. Ask her to move here and be with me. She’ll say no, and I wouldn’t blame her for that.
In a perfect world, in another life, London and I are the stuff of happily ever afters.
Just not in this one.
It’s a sobering truth that has my stomach twisting as we finish up in the kitchen and the ‘what next’ starts to loom heavily over us. But it also solidifies my plans for the next however long I have with her.
Everything else I’ll weather after. I won’t have a choice.
“Did you want to watch that movie you mentioned last night?”
Her head whips around at light speed, her eyes wide like she was so lost in her own introspection that she forgot I was here. “Yes,” she says quickly. Too quickly. “Have you seen it?”
“Christmas Vacation?” I smile stupidly at her concerned frown. “I think everyone has at some point, right? I watched some of that A Christmas Story marathon last year.”
“I love that one too. Love Actually is another one of my favs.”
“Nope. Sorry. That sounds like a chick flick.”
She frowns and it’s sexy and adorable. “It’s the best chick flick though. Does that count?” I shake my head. “Not even for a blowjob?”
Shit. She did not just go there with that.
“Keep talking.” I take a step toward her because now there is a distinct hunger in her eyes that calls to every fucking cell in my body. It also drives all my available blood flow south and my ability to reason or object goes with it.
Girl licks her lips like she knows—she definitely knows—it’s the nail in my coffin. Or bulge in my boxers at this point.
“I was thinking that maybe, since I haven’t seen that one in a really long time and it’s one of my favorites,” she emphasizes, batting her long eyelashes at me like I’m a mindless fool who will fall for that—newsflash: I am, “that we could watch that together while I suck your cock until you come down my throat.”
Shit.
“You really do not fight fair.”
She shakes her head, a smile she’s fighting and failing to hide crawling up her lips. “Nope. Not when it comes to the things I want.”
I reach for her, cupping her face in my hand and tilting it, exposing her neck for me. “And right now, you want my cock in your mouth while you watch a chick flick?”
“Without a doubt,” she murmurs as my lips meet her pulse. I lick it, from the base of her neck up to her jaw.
“How’s this then, go put it on. I have every freaking paid streaming service there is. Do that for me and I’ll think about letting you suck my cock.”
She squirms and I’m so gone on her that there is no way any other woman in the history of the world stands a chance.
I trail back up, kissing her lips and spinning her around, pushing her in the direction of the living room and the television with a swat to her sensational ass. I adjust my bulge as I watch her go, catching the coy eye she throws over her shoulder in my direction.
What the hell am I going to do when she’s gone?
Shrivel up and die, my brain