Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
He was lean and pretty with sinewy lines, sharp edges, soft lips, and a voracious sexual appetite. Ivan might chatter about the perfect espresso, his latte art issues, and the town council being unseasonably behind with holiday decorations while wiping down the counter or kicking leaves on Main Street on the walk to his house, but the second the door closed, he was all over me. And I fucking loved it.
We’d make out, shrugging off jackets and stripping out of our clothes as fast as humanly possible. Just kissing him was a wild aphrodisiac. He was so sensual, so responsive to my touch. The press of lips on his neck and my finger at his entrance sparked a tsunami of need…in both of us. We’d scramble upstairs, undressing along the way and sighing in relief at the feel of skin on skin. We were rabid for each other, fucking like animals in heat, sucking, licking, biting, and doing our best to crawl inside each other.
It was fun and life-affirming, the way really amazing sex could be. Yet it was…more. I couldn’t figure that part out, though. It was easier to believe this was what convenience, opportunity, and horniness looked like, but something shifted inside me whenever he was near. I wasn’t sure what that meant.
Maybe it was simply gratitude. Because I truly was grateful we’d become friends…and more.
Even if he confused the hell out of me.
How was turkey? he typed.
Excellent. I ate too much. How about you?
Same. I’m not a turkey guy, but I indulged in far too much stuffing. My mom’s is literally the best ever.
I smiled. My mom’s is too. Thankfully, she made a ton. There’re thirty or more adult-sized Hendersons here. It’s bonkers.
Oh, that’s fun.
Just bonkers. Are you still at your parents’ house?
No, I’m at the shop.
I sat up and frowned at my screen. Why? What are you doing?
Decorating for Christmas.
I snorted. It’s Thanksgiving Day.
Yes, I’m behind schedule and it’s stressing me out.
I cast my gaze from my family congregated in the kitchen, my brother snuggled up with his fiancée on the opposite end of the sectional, and my dad on his favorite recliner, to my phone. My fingers flew across the keyboard without a second thought.
Be there in 10.
“Who was that?” Dad asked, thanking my mom as she handed him a cup of coffee.
“A friend,” I said, hopping to my feet.
Mom set a hand on my elbow and smiled. “Did you want coffee too, hon?”
“No, thanks. I’m heading out. I’ll say good-bye to everyone first and—”
“Where are you going?”
Times like this, living with my folks wasn’t ideal. They wouldn’t have a problem with me seeing a guy per se, but Ivan…they’d have a million questions, and this wasn’t a great time.
Then again, what the hell?
“I told Ivan I’d help him hang snowflakes.” I kissed her cheek and fist-bumped my dad, my brother, and Tess. “Later.”
Mom pulled me aside, her brow quirked. “Ivan?”
“Yeah. Ivan.”
“Okay, that’s good. You…like him?” There was no mistaking her meaningful intonation.
“I like him a lot, actually,” I replied, jiggling my keys.
She nodded slowly. “He’s very likable. Tell him we said hello.”
“Will do.”
“Oh, and Court, since you’re suddenly in a holiday mood, can I volunteer you to help hang lights and garland on Main—”
“Sure, Mom. Gotta run.”
I kissed her cheek again, said hurried good-byes to everyone in the kitchen, then grabbed my jacket and headed into town.
Twenty minutes later, I was on a stepstool in the middle of Rise and Grind, tacking elaborate paper snowflakes onto the ceiling while “A Holly Jolly Christmas” played on the overhead speakers. Ivan fussed with a strand of garland, glancing up occasionally to direct snowflake placement. Which apparently was very important.
“Will you move that one over an inch to your right? No, the other way.”
“You mean my other right,” I snarked without heat, adjusting the snowflake.
“Perfect. I’m going to grab the other stool and tackle the area around the register.” Ivan beamed a sunny smile as he waltzed toward the counter, humming along to the holiday classic. “Oh, my gosh! I almost forgot our Santa hats!”
“No Santa hats.”
“You’ll change your mind when you see how cool mine is.” He dug through a box filled with holiday stuff on the counter and unearthed a basic-looking Santa hat. “Check this out.”
He pulled the hat on and pushed some secret button, and sure enough, the fluffy white brim lit up.
“Wow, that’s…something.”
“I told you so. Here’s yours.”
I caught the hat Ivan flung at me to avoid getting smacked in the face with it. “I’m having an artistic moment. I can’t do that with Santa shit flying at me.”
“Put it on.”
“No, thanks.”
He cackled merrily. “At least let me see what it looks like on you.”
I rolled my eyes, stuffing the snowflake in my left hand into the apron he’d given me to use as a makeshift utility belt, then propped the hat onto my head. It barely fit and no doubt I looked as ridiculous as I felt, but it was worth Ivan’s over-the-top reaction. He gasped and flattened his hand over his heart.