Storm

“Remember you just said that, so when I spank you tomorrow, you’ll know what it’s for.”

I change my clothes five times. I keep telling myself this is not a date. I’m really not sure what this is. I finally settle on a pair of jeans, black boots, and a white V-neck cashmere sweater. I throw a black scarf with tiny sparkles over my sweater. I guess that looks casual and festive. I add a pair of silver hoop earrings and a necklace with a black stone wrapped in white gold wire that belonged to my mom.

Earlier, Michael called and was still mad at me over Exhibit A—the bracelet. I still have a bad feeling about that cheap-ass bracelet, but I’m not going to let it wreck my holiday. I told him I was going with Storm for dinner at his Grandmothers and he didn’t even seem to care. Not that I want to make him jealous, but still. I don’t know if he just doesn’t care whom I spend my time with, or if he’s just so star struck by Storm and likes the idea of me hanging out with one of his musical idols.

Storm shows up promptly at ten a.m. He’s holding a box wrapped with silver paper and a bright red bow. I feel bad I don’t have a gift for him. It’s so awkward when someone gives you an unexpected gift and you don’t have one for them.

“Wow, you look beautiful,” he says when I open the door, and he doesn’t try to hide his eyes roaming over my body.

“Thank you... You look nice, too.” He really does. Achingly so. His hair is shiny and wavy, hanging a few inches past his shoulders. He’s wearing a black button-down shirt, faded jeans, and black motorcycle boots. A silver chain with a large black cross hangs around his neck and he has several sterling silver and black leather bracelets on. I suddenly feel very shy around him. Every now and then, the fact he is famous creeps up on me and makes me wonder what the hell he is doing hanging around with a nobody like me.

He hands the box to me. “Open this now before we go.”

I take it from him, smiling brightly, not able to hide my excitement. I wonder what sort of gift he is giving me. Knowing him, it’s going to be something joking or sexy and inappropriate.

“You really didn’t have to do this...” I tell him.

He’s grinning at me like a little kid. “Open it.”

We move to the couch, and I take the bow off the gift carefully. I want to save it. Soon, it will live in a box in my closet with all things precious to me, little memories I’ve collected. Wrapping off, I lift off the lid. Whatever it is, it’s buried in tissue paper. I move it all aside and lift whatever it is out...

Holy. Wow. I gently turn it over in my hands, and my heart just soars. I can’t even form words as I hold this amazing gift in my hands. It’s a snow globe, and inside is a tiny miniature pick-up truck with two little people holding hands and a dog, all surrounded by trees. The little man even has long hair. Obviously, he paid someone with quite a bit of talent to make this for me.

“I remember you said you love snow globes,” he explains. “I thought one with us in it would be cool.”

I hold it between us as I watch the snowflakes fall around the little ‘US’ inside. It’s so unexpected and sweet. I want to climb inside and live in this sweet scene forever.

I lay it on my lap and throw my arms around him. “I love it so much. Thank you. It’s one of the best gifts I’ve ever received.” I don’t want to let him go. I know I cling to him for too long, but it feels so good in his arms.

He holds me just as tight. “I’m glad you like it. I’m not usually good with gifts.”

I pull away reluctantly. “It’s the best, really. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.” I kiss his cheek. “I just love it.”

I stand and walk to the mantle and put it next to my mom’s little gingerbread house. “I’m going to keep it out all year round, you know,” I tell him.

“Good. Hopefully, it will remind you to call me when you’re supposed to,” he teases.

I shake my head at him and grab my coat. “I call you when I can.” Taking my coat from me, he holds it out for me to slip into, then puts his arms around me from behind, pulling me against his body, his arms crossed in front of me.

“Where’s my bow?” he whispers.

My body instinctively sinks back against him. “You promised to behave.”

“I lied.” His lips are on my neck, kissing softly. “I didn’t know you would look so delicious.” The slight scruff on his face tickles me. “Tell me you’ve been thinking about me,” he says as his hand travels down my side, over my hip, and rests on my outer thigh, pulling my lower body against his.

“We promised no more of this, Storm.

His lips are all over my neck, kissing, licking, and sucking. My mind starts to spin and twirl, blurring the lines between right and wrong, good girl and bad girl.

“I don’t like that promise anymore.” His hand grips my leg tighter, inching between my legs now, his lips moving down to my shoulder, my sweater pushed aside. His other hand finds my scarf, and slowly wraps it around my neck, tugging it slightly, pulling my head back to him. A tiny moan escapes me, and I try to pull away, but he tugs it harder, not choking me, but holding me there against his lips.

“I like you just like this. You can’t get away.”

His hand moves between my thighs and his finger slides over me, pushing the fabric of my jeans against me.

“I can feel how wet you are,” he whispers.

I am lost in his sensuality. I have no defense against it. I am clueless as to how to respond to it. Twelve years of mundane sex has left me a perpetual virgin. I am stagnant, scared, frozen, trembling. Aching. I want to turn around and just let him do anything. Everything. I want to unravel beneath him and be nothing but his. His, his, his.

I turn in his arms to face him. His eyes are dark with lust, his hair falling over his face in the way that I love. I grab his shirt with my hands. It’s unbuttoned almost to the middle of his chest. Not really appropriate for Christmas dinner, but definitely hot. I finally allow my lips to touch his chest, my first kiss to him. His hands come up and hold my head against him.

“Yes, baby...” he breathes. “Let yourself want me.” His breathing is ragged, his hands tangling in my hair, yanking my head up toward him, his lips crashing down on mine, devouring me.

It’s he who pulls away. Steps back slightly. But his eyes still hold me... caress me... wanting me.

“Fuck.” Loud, but not yelling. “I won’t do this to you, Evie. You will hate me, hate yourself, and hate us.”

I nod tearfully at him. I unwind the scarf from my neck and straighten my sweater. I already hate myself, though.

“I don’t want him hanging over us. I don’t want him between us,” he says.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“We can rewind a thousand times, Evie. I’ll keep doing this with you. But I don’t want to.”

“Storm, I’m trying. I am.”

“I know you are. I am, too. I can walk out of here and never see you again, leave you here with him. Would that be easier for you?”

The thought of that scares the shit out of me. I could lose him. Obviously, he will not wait forever for me to make up my stupid mind.

“No, I don’t want that. I would miss you like crazy. I would always think of you.”

“And him? If you leave him, will you miss him like crazy, too?”

I admire how Storm fears no question. He just asks. He hopes for the answer he wants to hear and swallows what he doesn’t.

I’m ashamed to answer this question though, and I don’t really trust my answer. Is it clouded by the way he makes me feel? How much of this is just excitement and desire?

“I guess your silence answers that one.”

“No.” I grab his hand. “It doesn’t. I don’t think I would miss him. Not like I will miss you. I would miss the memories, the time invested. I’m afraid of you hurting me. I’m afraid this is just crazy attraction, and once we get it out of our systems, it’s just going to be over, and you’ll be chasing after someone else, and I’ll have a broken heart.”

“I’m not fifteen, Evie. I know the difference between wanting to fuck someone and having real feelings for them.”

He steps closer, smoothing my hair. “Let’s go. It’s Christmas. We can talk about fucking and feeling later, okay?”

His ability to transition in and out of situations amazes me. There is no beginning or end with him. He just pauses what’s happening, diffuses it, and deals with it later at a better time. I’m not sure if this is a good thing or something that could eventually drive me crazy.

Seeing Niko in the backseat is another highlight of the day. I missed this big fluffy monster so much. He wags his tail and makes these little howling noises when I get in the truck. I’m sure he remembers me.

“I missed him. He’s such a cool dog.” I pat his big fluffy head while Storm backs out of the parking spot. “Do you think he remembers me?”

“Of course, he does. Look how happy he is.”

“Aww...” I say. I’m sure I’m getting fur all over me, but I don’t care.

“Do you think he and Halo would get along? If they were together?” He’s trying to make the question sound casual, but I’m not buying into it.

I think about that for a moment. Is he thinking what I think he’s thinking? “Um, I don’t know. Halo has never seen a dog, but I’m sure if Niko doesn’t chase him they would be fine.”

He nods, staring out the windshield. “I was just curious.”

I want to question what he’s thinking, but I don’t want to rock the boat again, not today. He reaches across the truck and takes my hand in his, resting them together on my leg. I swallow hard and look over at him.

“Storm...”

He glances over at me quickly and then back to the road. “Evie, this is what we do. We hold hands. I’m not giving that up.”