“You were serious about the Christmas tree,” I blurted, eyeing the massive cardboard box labeled ‘Christmas tree.’
Wyatt ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit I picked up on. “Um, yeah. But we don’t have to do it.”
I shook my head, knowing the lust was making me crazy. It had been a while since I’d had sex. Avoiding it for another night, or month, or year, was no big deal for me. “This is on your list, right?”
He nodded. “How about I start a fire and make us some boozy s’mores hot chocolate?”
“Sure,” I said, dreading opening the boxes on the floor. Christmas ornaments. Memories. The past. I couldn’t avoid my own if I was going to be faced with his.
Wyatt loaded logs into the fireplace on the back wall, surprising me.
“You have a wood-burning fireplace?”
He nodded. “I know gas or electric is popular, but it doesn’t feel the same to me. I like to have real wood. It’ll take a while to heat up though. Sorry about that.”
I shook my head. “It’s fine. I always loved our wood-burning fireplace. I would sit in front of it for hours when I was a kid. I had a chair right by it and would read or nap there my entire winter break from school.”
“Hmm. So there is something about this time of year that you like?”
I smiled, admitting to myself that he was right. There were a few good memories from the holiday season.
After he got the fire going, Wyatt went into the kitchen, a bright, open space that overlooked the living room. He pulled out a pan then a small glass baking dish. I watched as he poured milk into the pan and chocolate chips into the glass dish. The fire popped, drawing my attention. I sat there, staring at it, and forgetting about everything around me until the scent of chocolate blended with the pungent aroma of burning wood, making me happy.
I relaxed into his overstuffed, gray couch. I expected something leather for him, but it was soft and well worn, like he’d had it for a long time. A TV sat on a stand near the fireplace, like Wyatt used both on a regular basis. I ignored the boxes near the window, pretending they weren’t there.
Wyatt carried two mugs over to the couch and handed one to me. It was elegant and beautiful and smelled like heaven in a cup.
“Wow. You don’t do anything halfway, do you?”
He shook his head. “Not usually. This is my favorite drink this time of year. My mom always made us s’mores hot chocolate growing up. When we asked for more, she’d never give it to us. It wasn’t until I was older that I realized it was because she took whatever was left over and added whiskey to it for the adults.”
“Whiskey?” I asked, sipping from the red mug.
“What do you think?”
“Oh, wow,” I groaned. “This is the best hot chocolate I’ve ever had.”
Wyatt beamed at me, tasting his own mug. “There’s more if you want it.”
“This is really good. The whiskey isn’t too heavy, just enough to know it’s there. I’ve never had a drink loaded with this much chocolate. I feel like I need a spoon.”
“I can get you one.”
I shook my head and rested my hand on his arm when he started to get up. “It’s okay. I’ll just enjoy sipping it.”
We sat silently together for a few minutes, watching the fire and sipping our boozy hot chocolate. The graham cracker crumbs on the edge of the mug were held in place by more chocolate. Every sip I took brought in a little bit of graham cracker, a touch of the marshmallow on top, and a heaping of chocolate. The whiskey was subtle, but definitely there, reminding me it had been a few hours since we’d eaten dinner.
“Are you hungry?” Wyatt asked. “As I drink this, I realize dinner was a while ago.”
“I was just thinking that, too.”
“Let me go cook us something.”
“Wyatt,” I said as he shifted to get up.
“Hmm?”
“Just relax for a little while.”
He settled back down next to me. His leg was pressed to the side of mine even though a person could lay down on the rest of the couch. I shifted, just a little closer to him. The hot chocolate and fire relaxed me until I felt like nothing could bother me.
Then he moved.
Closer.
I didn’t think it was possible to get closer, but he found a way.
His scent overpowered the chocolate, reminding me I wasn’t relaxing on my couch at home. Oh, no. I was cuddling on Wyatt’s couch in his condo. With a very sexy, delectable Wyatt Ramsey pressed against my side.
My eyes flipped open. I sipped my hot chocolate, trying to pretend everything was perfectly normal. The longer we sat, sipping our drinks and watching the fire, the more aware of him I was.
His muscular thigh against mine. The movement of his arm as he brought his mug to his lips. The sound of his breath. The scent of him.
I wanted my friend. I wanted Wyatt. And it wasn’t a friendly thing. It wasn’t a ‘he’s hot and I can see where someone would like him’ thing. I wanted him. I wanted his tongue on my body. I wanted my hands on his. I wanted to feel him slide into me. I wanted to ride him until I broke him.
Then do it all over again.
“Peyton,” he said, his voice deep and gravelly. And sexy.
“Hmm?”
“You know you’re making me crazy, right?”
“What are you talking about?” I asked, baffled that I could be making him crazy.
“Every time you move, I want to lay you out on this couch and find out where your tantalizing scent is coming from.”
“What?” I squeaked.
“You smell like dessert, Peyton.”
I snorted. “I think that’s the hot chocolate.”
He shook his head and set his mug on the table. Then he took mine and set it next to it.
Gulp.
He turned to face me, his eyes burning. I didn’t know what he had in mind, but I knew I was going to love it.
He cupped my jaw and lowered his lips to mine. All our kisses had been sweet, a bit of sexy, but still tame. Kisses that could be considered friendly kisses. Extremely friendly.
But this kiss was different. It was powerful. It was heady. It was something I never wanted to forget.
His tongue swept into my mouth, giving me a taste of chocolate flavored Wyatt. I moaned because, hell, it was the best thing I’d ever had. I reached for him, needing to feel him. The stubble on his face was rough against my fingertips, adding a new element to the softness of his tongue in my mouth. His breath fanned against my cheek, giving me the scent of chocolate as well as the taste. I was surrounded by chocolate and Wyatt and wasn’t sure which was more appealing.
No. That wasn’t true. Wyatt only made the chocolate better, but if I could only have one, there was no doubt which I’d choose.
Wyatt leaned back, shifting my body so I was over him. My knees fell to either side of his hips, his cock nestled just right between my thighs. His hands slid to my ass, urging me against him.
Pleasure shot through me. A shock of warmth and a blast of desire pooled low within me. I had to rub against him, to feel the length of him pressed to me. His fingers dug into my ass, encouraging my movements as his tongue probed my mouth.
One stroke. One brush. One thrust.
And I was nearly gone.
I threw my head back and moaned. My hair fell around me, creating a curtain. A safe place. Somewhere that blocked out the world around me. Everything except Wyatt.
His eyes scorched me. The need. The desire. The urge to please me. I’d never had a man look at me like that before. Like my pleasure was the only thing that mattered to him.
Just that knowledge alone was almost enough to send me over the edge.
“Fuck, Peyton,” he growled, grinding me against him. His jaw clenched. His fingers tightened. He guided me over him, thrusting up against me with every stroke of my body on his.
My breathing grew shallower, my body spiraling up and up until I knew I’d go whether I liked it or not. Wyatt leaned up, claiming my lips again, and I soared.
Wyatt kept me moving, his hands controlling my hips. I’d always known I could come over and over again, but rarely had a man who was willing to let me keep going. Wyatt seemed up to the challenge.
“More, Peyton? Can you give me more?”
“Uh huh,” I murmured, wondering if he was ready for me to be done.
“Let me touch you. I need my hands on you.”
He reached between us and rolled us over.
Right off the couch.
I landed hard on my back with Wyatt on top of me. His eyes went wide, fear sneaking into them.
And I laughed.
My body shook so hard, Wyatt pushed his weight off me. I couldn’t breathe. Tears leaked from my eyes. I seriously thought I might pee my pants.
But I couldn’t stop laughing.
After a minute, Wyatt started chuckling. He caught my eye, which only made me laugh harder. Which made him laugh harder. And harder. Until he was laughing just as hard as I was.
His body shook above mine with his laughter. He finally rolled off me, getting pinned between me and the large, black ottoman.
He shoved at the ottoman and finally managed to move off me. He sat on the ground, one elbow resting on his knee. I was still on my back, looking up at him. Our laughter faded with the moment.
“That wasn’t exactly how I hoped to make you tremble,” he said with a self-deprecating laugh.
I huffed a laugh and sat up. Wyatt’s hand landed on my calf, but the moment was gone. Maybe it was for the best. We were friends. If we slept together, it could get messy.
I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.
“Do you have your snowflake ornaments in a special box?” I asked, knowing if the subject didn’t change things would get awkward in a hurry.
A look of relief flashed in his eyes, telling me he felt the same about the moment as I did. He nodded and stood, giving me an excellent view of the most perfect ass I’d never get my hands on. Damn.
Wyatt came back with a box and set it on the ottoman. He lifted the lid and revealed several carefully packaged ornaments. Some were in padded envelopes, some in bubble wrap, and a couple loose in the box.
I lifted one of the metal ones from the box and let the light catch the polished parts of the silver surface. “Where did you get this one?”
Wyatt grinned when he saw the one I held. “That was one of the first ones I got. My first Christmas tree was pretty boring. One of those ones with the lights already on the tree. I didn’t have any ornaments. I found that at a big box store after Christmas. My mom said I had to start collecting ornaments and I teased her that I should get it. She said it would be better than nothing, so I bought it.”
I set the ornament back in the box carefully and chose another one.
“That was a gift from my sister. She had the same opinion as my mom. She took matters into her own hands though and just made me an ornament herself.”
“She made this?” I asked, impressed with the beaded ornament that looked like it belonged in a window display.
Wyatt nodded proudly. “She did. She’s a very talented artist.”
“Does she know Hunter?”
“No. She’s been a stay at home mom since my niece, Ann, was born. She says she doesn’t have time to do anything with her art full time. When both kids are in school she might do something. I told her about Hunter though. He said he’d love to see her stuff when she’s ready, which is pretty cool of him.”
“Vicki adores him. Did you know they’re trying to have kids?”
“Wow, really?”
I nodded. “Yeah, she asked me about it.”
“Damn. I guess I’m that old-fashioned guy who thinks they should be married first.”
I laughed. “I thought Vicki was the same way. I’ve treated people who were married and not married and to me, love is love. You don’t need a piece of paper to say you’re going to stay together.”
Wyatt nodded thoughtfully. “I guess that’s true. I just can’t imagine having kids.”
“I still have trouble seeing that. Not a family man?”
He shook his head and shivered. “Definitely not. It’s not in the cards for me.”
“I’m with you. I have hundreds of kids out there that I get to love on and turn back over to their parents. I keep their pictures in my office to stare at, but I don’t have to deal with everything that comes with having kids. I’m perfectly content with that arrangement.”
Wyatt laughed. “I’m happy being Uncle Wyatt. That’s as close as I want to get.”
I held up another ornament and waited for him to tell me about it. We went through the whole box, Wyatt telling me stories until late in the evening. When he offered to take me home, I was disappointed, but knew it was the right thing.
Still, it would have been nice to have a few more of those amazing orgasms. I would fantasize about what he could have done for years.