As the door fell closed behind Mark, Chris experienced a moment of panic.
Well, not outright panic. More like the feeling of being at a loss. Unable to believe he wanted to call Mark back, not to allow him to leave until the shop closed and then take him home and seduce him so hard he’d want to stay.
Whoa. That’s a tad melodramatic. Or stalkerish. Or too needy, or something else I’d rather not be.
Chris shuddered and started tidying-up the register area and that’s when it hit him—he could have offered to wrap the scarf. That would have been good for a few more minutes with those smoldering dark eyes and broad shoulders.
No matter. One hour until closing time. Then one hour until party time.
Chris had his closing chores finished with one minute to spare at six o’clock, even though more customers than he’d expected had come in that afternoon. He’d helped them all with his usual style and humor even though half of his mind had dwelled on Mark as he did.
It felt like fate that of all the men in town, Mark was the one who dropped in for a gift for his grandmother. When Chris was available too!
It had been almost six months since his last relationship had dissolved into boredom and then quietly ended. He’d been tempted to find someone to stir up some romance with for the holidays, or at least some casual fun, but it didn’t seem fair to that someone. He’d been less than flattered to learn he’d been a rebound fling in the past and didn’t want to inflict that on another man. Regardless of the image he cultivated, Chris wasn’t a huge fan of casual.
He’d had flings and hookups and friends-with-benefits, but all in the pursuit of one thing: true love. A dyed-in-the wool romantic, Chris wanted it all—the heady rush whenever he saw or even thought of that one special someone—much like the near-palpitations he was experiencing as he locked up the shop and headed for his car.
In less than an hour Mark would be at his door. He had so much work to do before then.
He didn’t break any laws, but reached his apartment in record time. In previous years, his apartment would have been decorated to the hilt before the Thanksgiving leftovers were gone. But not this year. Despite the invitation to a party, Chris had had a quiet evening planned in which he would read a steamy novel while sipping wine and then retiring early so he could open in the morning bright-eyed and ready to face Christmas Eve shoppers.
The wild life of a small business owner.
Chris set a pot of mulled cider simmering on the stove and raced into his walk-in closet for decorations. The Christmas-green storage bin felt a bit light, but he found some tinsel for the bare tree sitting in the dining room—courtesy of his overly-festive sister—red linens for the table, and his knitted napkin holders from last year, made in a delicate silver silk laceweight. Mark might know that silver was last year’s holiday color, but Chris doubted he would care once he felt the full force of Chris’s seductive powers.
He started at the knock on his front door and stashed the packaging from the tinsel behind the books on his dining room bookcase. After one last look at the table, he brushed off the front of his sweater as he walked—raced—to open the door. Mark was looking down the hall, a slight frown making him even more handsome.
“You’re right on time. Come in.”
“I hope you like red wine. I wasn’t sure what to bring…” Mark’s voice trailed off as he entered the apartment that obviously wasn’t the site of a party, Christmas or otherwise. “You did say tonight?”
Chris closed the door and smiled sheepishly. “I did. There isn’t an actual party, per se, but I have mulled cider.” He took the bottle of wine from Mark, drawing his fingertips across the back of his hand as he did. “And wine.”
“And no customers are likely to walk in…”
“Exactly. Let me take your coat.” Chris hung it in the tiny foyer closet and indicated for him to follow into the kitchen. He brought two wineglasses down from the cupboard and put them beside the mugs on the counter. “What shall we start with?”
“That cider smells delicious.”
“Cider it is, then.” Chris reached out for the ladle, resting on a ceramic unicorn beside the stove, but pulled his hand back empty. He rested his hands on the counter, on either side of two Christmasy mugs. “I should’ve just invited you over, but wasn’t sure you’d come if you knew it would just be the two of us. Normally, I would be hosting a party tonight.”
“This isn’t a normal year for you?”
“No.” Chris turned and met Mark’s gaze. He didn’t seem upset that he’d been lured there under false pretenses. “About six months ago, my…relationship just sort of fizzled out. For the first time, I didn’t go right out looking for another one. So, I’ve been single since then. I threw myself into the shop, started teaching knitting classes and hosting an after-school club from the high school. It’s been…different. Instead of running out to find another man I just…”
“Did your own thing?” Mark’s smile might have been the tiniest bit shy, or maybe he was trying not to laugh.
“That’s as good a description as anything.” Chris didn’t feel as fierce as he would have liked, so he kept himself from saying that he felt Mark coming into the shop might have been the reason he stayed single. “So. Cider.”
“Is it hard cider?” Mark stood surprisingly close beside Chris, his deep voice lowered and a touch husky. When Chris turned to look at him, Mark stood with his hip leaning against the counter. That casual pose seemed to say he was at ease, that he felt Chris’s apartment was somewhere he belonged. Which, of course, was the point of the evening.
One of them.
Chris carefully slid the mugs back from the edge of the counter, turned off the burner under the cider and then faced Mark. After a beat he slowly and deliberately backed him up against the refrigerator. As he walked, he spread his hands out across Mark’s chest. He’d loved the peek of Mark’s six-pack he’d gotten while he knelt on the floor of the back room at the shop. That room might never be the same after today. Chris had been tempted to spend a while caressing and licking every hill and valley of those abs. If the shop had been closed, he definitely would have. Mark’s firm pecs and shoulders sent blood rushing to his cock.
“You’ve been patient,” Mark said, tilting his head as though to invite Chris to kiss him. “But you don’t have to wait any longer. Unless you’re expecting someone to drop by?”
“No. Nobody’s likely to disturb us tonight.”
“Hmm, great. Now for the nickel tour that ends with the most comfortable spot in your place. For the reciprocation.” Mark’s steamy grin sent a tingle through Chris’s body. He didn’t want to rush so instead of a tour of his apartment, Chris leaned against Mark and snaked a hand up over his chest and behind his neck. “I’ve been waiting all afternoon to taste you again.”
Chris had intended to be the aggressor, to pull Mark into a kiss and not let him go until they were both fighting for air. Those words—he’d been thinking of kissing me—took him by surprise and he froze. Chris had felt a pull at the shop. From the first moment he noticed Mark checking him out through the front window of Yarning for You, Chris wanted to see him like this, so close he could see the flecks of gold in his warm brown eyes.
Wanted to touch and taste him and do all manner of naughty things to him.
Because who wouldn’t want a tall, dark, and sexy man like Mark?
Even before I realized he was the one who got away.
Only I hadn’t been fierce enough to go after Mr. Football Star back when we were trapped in the same school together every day, so “the one who got away” doesn’t exactly fit.
“Is this okay?” Mark’s husky voice in his ear focused Chris’s attention on the moment again.
“You don’t have to—”
Mark cut him off with a soft, questioning kiss. Just a brush of warm lips across his. Mark slowly trailed kisses from Chris’s lips to his ear.
“Yes. I do.”
“Yes.”
Mark’s arms tightened around him, bending him backward just a bit. As his body pressed against Mark’s, the thought raced through Chris’s mind that Mark just might carry him and find a good spot if he didn’t start the tour. He almost laughed out loud—and would have if he’d known Mark better. Or, rather, if Mark had known him well enough to hear that he was laughing with delight and helpless lust, and not mockingly.
“Yes, you do.” Chris separated himself from Mark’s embrace and took his hand. “Honey, hold those thoughts. Let’s start the tour in the dining room.”
Before they left the small kitchen, Mark had wrapped himself around Chris making it a challenge to walk.
“The dining room. The living room.” Chris waved in the general direction of the sofa and didn’t stop until they stood inside the door of Chris’s bedroom. His comfy purple room where he spent most of his non-working time. “The bedroom. The site of the impending reciprocation.”
The centerpiece of the room was the queen-sized bed with its mountain of coordinating pillows and heavy dark wood headboard Chris had salvaged and refinished himself. That bed had been his one extravagance since most of his cash went back into the business, and he had never regretted it. For a moment he wondered how it looked through Mark’s eyes—the purple accent wall and the assortment of pillows…
“It looks so inviting, but also like it would be a shame to mess it up.” Mark pressed the length of his body against Chris’s back. The bulge in his jeans made Chris think about taking them off him—all the way this time. “You know. Like a dessert that’s almost too pretty to eat?”
Chris turned around in Mark’s arms and looked up at him. Chris had always been attracted to tall men, especially tall men with loads of muscles.
“I do know.”
“Standing or sitting or lying down?”
“Pardon?”
“How do you want it? Standing? Sitting, or lying down?”
“I chose standing for you without even asking, remember?”
Mark drew his hands up Chris’s back and then slowly down to the waistband of his slacks, pulling him close. “I do remember. I also remember you solving my Christmas gift problem and inviting me into your home.”
Mark slipped his hands under Chris’s sweater and spread them across his back. Chris reveled in the sensation of having those big hands nearly covering his entire back, pulling him up onto his toes and capturing his mouth in a blistering kiss. Mark rucked up Chris’s sweater and sighed.
Chris unfastened the buttons he could reach on Mark’s shirt and when he slipped both hands up the warm skin on the sides of Mark’s neck while also deepening the kiss it was like flipping a switch. Both pulled at buttons and wiggled out of pants until they had shed all of their clothes.
The way Mark looked at him made Chris feel like the sexiest man on the planet. When he said in a husky whisper, “Oh, you’re gorgeous,” Chris wrapped himself around him.
“You’re smokin’ hot yourself.”
For a long time, they stood in Chris’s bedroom and made out—kissing lips and necks, caressing shoulders and backs, and indulging in some strategic rubbing. Chris felt the world tilt beneath him. He squealed into Mark’s mouth as his feet left the ground.
Mark carried him backward the two steps to the bed, and somehow managed to lay them both down without a single bounce. Chris growled his appreciation for the slick move as he gripped Mark’s ass, pulling him closer. When Mark started to slide down Chris’s body, he stopped him.
“You stay where you are. I’ll turn around, and we can both gain a little more experience.” He grinned and then turned, lining himself up so he could take Mark’s cock in hand again. Not one to rush these things, Chris took his time admiring and caressing Mark’s cock and his heavy balls. Mark, however, didn’t share his patience. Mark started right in licking and sucking and gave Chris the reciprocation of a lifetime.
Far too soon, Chris dramatically flopped onto his back and smiled at the ceiling. “That was fabulous.”
“It was.” Mark caressed Chris’s leg with his fingertips, coming precariously near at least two ticklish spots.
“As soon as we’ve caught our breath let’s pop the cork on that wine, yes?”
“Hmmm, yes.” Mark kissed his ankle and Chris felt downright swoony. “And make a date for after Christmas, so we can do this again.”
“But that’s almost two whole days away.” Chris tried to pout, but even though he did not want to wait two whole days to see Mark again his voice sounded breathless instead.
Mark chuckled. “How’s this: we’ll make a date for whenever you’re free next, so we can do this again. And have dinner too. I mean, I’ll take you to dinner first. And I wasn’t suggesting we get dressed and pop that cork. Or that we wait until after Christmas to do that again.”
“Now you’re talking, mister.”
Chris stretched, luxuriating in the feel of his soft duvet below him and the hard man beside him. He’d thought the holidays would be filled with work and trying not to wallow in the fact that he was excruciatingly single. Instead, he’d just gotten an amazing blowjob from a sexy hunk of man and had a date for next week.
What’s more, the night was still young.
Happy Holidays!
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