Claire

“Hello? Anyone here?” I heard Aiken echo through my house. He might as well have moved in. He was here all the time.

But who was I kidding? He didn’t want to live among all my memories.

At the sound of his voice, Smitty immediately stood like the house was on fire and rushed to the back door.

“In here, grading papers,” I called back from my chair in the front room.

“Hey, Smit. Wanna help me with something?” I heard Aiken talking to my dog, which used to be my job.

It was the Sunday after Thanksgiving. We’d survived the awkward evening at Mary’s before holing up most of Friday and Saturday nights, watching movies and eating popcorn. Aiken had left early this morning to run and do a little work.

Presumably.

“One sec,” he called back to me. “Don’t get up. I have a surprise.”

No wonder he was back so early.

“Wasn’t expecting you until dinner-ish, and you know I don’t like surprises.”

My butt itched to jump out of my chair, but I was comfortable, my legs tucked underneath me, a blanket wrapped around my shoulders.

I heard a rustling sound come from the back door. Smitty barked once, and Aiken told him to quiet.

“Ho ho ho!”

“What the what?”

Trailing behind Aiken, wrapped tight in netting, was an enormous tree.

“I figured we’d decorate.”

“Aiken, what is this?”

“A tree. Mary said—”

“I’m going to kill her. This time, I’m not kidding.”

“Nah, she said you’ve been putting up a fake tree since…well, you know. So I got a live tree this year for us to do together. We can make it??? a tradition. Oh, and this.” He pulled a swag of mistletoe out of his back pocket. With a wide grin, socked feet, and a white T-shirt under a heavy flannel shirt, he looked his age. Young, with his whole future ahead of him.

“I thought we were going to go see your dad for Christmas?”

“Doesn’t mean we can’t decorate, Richards. Lay down some traditions of our own.”

“That’s crazy. We’re making a mess for nothing.” I finally stood up from my chair, setting my papers on the table, and moved to help Aiken shift the tree in front of the window. He had a tree stand tucked under his arm, which he was conveniently placing under the tree.

“I hope you didn’t buy stuff to trim that monstrosity with…I have tons.”

“Heard that too, Richards.”

I gave him the stink eye while making sure the enormous evergreen wasn’t going to tip over.

“Hey, come here, you look cute.” He gathered me close like a tiny doll.

“What is this?” He ran a finger down my shirt.

“Um, an old T-shirt.”

“I like it. You look comfy.”

“I am. That’s what leggings are for. Comfy days.”

“Are you wearing underwear?”

“Really? That’s what you want to know?”

“I can’t help it. I don’t see any evidence of any, and curiosity killed the cat.”

I wanted to lie, but he’d find out sooner rather than later. “As a matter of fact, I’m not.”

“We’ll have to trim this tree later,” he said, right before his mouth came down on mine.

His hand came around the nape of my neck, his tongue swiped against mine as my legs wrapped around his middle. “Oh,” I whispered. It did feel good, whatever was creating friction.

“Atta girl.”

“Hush, farm boy,” I warned him. “You’re going to spoil the moment.”

He carried us upstairs. “That couch of yours is too damn dainty. You need to replace it.”

“Why? So you can have your way with me in front of the window?”

“You know it.”

Inside my bedroom, he laid me down on the bed and took his time pulling my pants down each leg, placing kisses along each calf, running his hands back over my quads. He stripped with no shame and bent down, pulling off my T-shirt.

Spread out next to me, his hand wandered everywhere, leaving no skin untouched. His mouth found its way to my bra, pulling down the cups with his teeth before paying attention to my nipples, one after the other.

“Aiken,” I interrupted. He lifted his head, and I used that to my advantage, tipping him onto his back, my own mouth traveling the length of his body. My tongue flirted with his belly button, making its own path lower, before taking all of him in my mouth. At first, I teased, and then judging by his moans that he couldn’t take it much longer, I took him deeper.

“Christ,” he let out. “You’re fucking it for me, Richards.”

Hearing those words did outlandish things to me. I was primed and ready, but I wanted to satisfy Aiken with my mouth. So I did.

Then he flipped us over, and payback was really a bitch.

Not really.