Page 78 of A Lifetime of Afters
His body stretched out over me, I took in the entire length of his torso, from his magnificently sculpted chest to where his hips poised directly over my groin.
“Oh, I like this,” I breathed.
His eyes turned to slits, with a light in them I didn’t much like.
“Hawkley,” I warned.
He trailed the fingers of his other hand down my arm to end with a circle in my armpit.
“No,” I squirmed underneath him. “That’s cruel and unusual punishment!”
The final syllable came out with a barking laugh, like a sea lion as he dug his fingers into my pit.
“No, Hawkley,” I laughed. “I have to pee!”
“Looks like you’ve got quite a predicament there,” he teased, his fingers skimming my waist and digging into my ribs before returning to my armpits.
“Please,” I begged. “I can’t take any more!”
“Hm,” he skimmed his hand lightly up and down my arm.
I forced myself to relax. Tensing only made the tickling worse.
“You were talking about phobias?” he teased, grinning.
“No,” I shook my head adamantly, trying and failing to buck him off. “I was talking about Christmas morning blow jobs and how we have to make our own Christmas traditions!”
Studying my face, he considered my words, then released me. “Go pee. Quickly. Then come right back. If you do a good job, I’ll give you your present despite your bad behavior.”
We were almost late.
But I got my present.
Every Christmas I could remember, we spent with Hawk’s family, the tradition ending for me when Diane entered the picture. Even after their marriage ended, I could not bring myself to attend.
It had been ten years.
A wave of nostalgia hit me as soon as we walked in the door. The evergreen boughs on the fireplace mantle, the ceramic Christmas village nestled among the branches, Hunter’s Christmas train, the one he lit on fire one year because he wanted smoke to come out of the chimney. The tree stood tall and proud in the same corner as always, and Lou’s mother’s nativity sat on the table in the hall.
Had I not walked in with my hand safely tucked into Hawk’s, those memories might have sucked me under. As it was, I grieved the lost years, my eyes greedily soaking up every detail, and delighting in every hint of familiarity.
My dad helped us with our packages and our coats. “Merry Christmas, Christmas,” he smiled, pulling me into a hug.
“Merry Christmas, Pops,” I whispered.
So many lost years. My chest heaved with a suppressed sob, but I yanked my control back around me and pulled back to smile at my dad. “Merry Christmas, Pops,” I told him again.
Unable to speak, Dad moved to Hawk and hugged him warmly. “Merry Christmas, son.”
The endearment wasn’t new, but with us being together, the meaning changed. What would it be like if we were married, and he actually was his son-in-law?
Married. Me in the white dress. Hawk dressed to the nines. Definitely not in gray like his first wedding. My stomach soured. I’d dreamed of marrying Hawk at Sage Ridge, but I didn’t want anything from our wedding to remind him of his first.
Realizing how far my mind had wandered, and the fact that he hadn’t even given me those three little words, I gave my head a shake and huffed out a laugh. We weren’t even engaged, and I was planning the wedding.
I’d been planning that wedding for about fifteen years.
Lou and Dan bustled over as we made our way into the living room. “Well? Was Santa good to you?” she asked, nodding at Hawkley.
