It was adorable.
“What’s in the seasoning?”
“Sparky’s secret.”
“Seasoning salt with oregano and chili powder added in? Hmm. There’s something else.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. Damn good guesser.
We finished our dinners and nursed beers from Hop Doctor Brewery while chatting about what we needed to do next for our Christmas Eve dinner. The conversation felt different this time. Instead of the festival being the reason for us to spend time together, we were touching base on a few lingering things and getting the business out of the way so we could enjoy our time.
As Mickey prepped overnight oats for breakfast, I cleaned up dinner. The domestic scene made my heart ache for it to be real. Me swinging by after a long day of work to share dinner and easy conversation. Cuddling on the couch, absorbed in our books, until we fell into bed and each other’s arms. Then waking up to start the day with overnight oats like competent adults who cared about our fiber intake. It was a dreamy scenario.
Hoping for more with Mickey was a fast track to heartache. Even if we didn’t immediately crash and burn, I didn’t live here.
But you could. And do what? Maplewood wasn’t exactly an economic hotbed for corporate pencil pushers.
“You look lost in thought. Good thoughts?” Mickey sidled up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist.
It’s so easy with him. That has to mean something.
I turned off the faucet and spun in his arms. “Thinking about you, so yeah.”
“What about me?”
“How badly I want to pick up where we left off the other night.”
Mickey dropped featherlight kisses along my jaw. “Mm. Me too. Come on.” He pulled me by the hand down a hallway with framed family photos on one side and familiar Vermont landscapes on the other.
My heart pounded as I crossed the threshold into his bedroom. The space was dark until he flipped on a lamp standing in the corner next to a chest of drawers. I only glanced around long enough to notice an old style of furniture like mygrandparents had before they downsized and moved to Florida. But the modern bed stood out with a fluffy, white duvet and a low, understated black bedframe.
Hunger blazed in Mickey’s eyes as he walked me back to the bed with a possessive grip on my hips.
“Want to know a secret?”
“Yes,” I spoke the word like a plea.
Mickey kissed me until my toes curled. I’d nearly forgotten about the secret he’d offered until we broke apart and he pushed me back onto the bed. When he climbed over me and straddled my waist, I jerked my hips toward him, desperate for friction.
“I had a sex dream about you in high school.”
My eyes rolled back in my head as he lowered his weight onto me and pressed his groin into mine as he kissed the sensitive spot under my ear.
“I woke up harder than I’d ever been. I couldn’t look at you in school for weeks after.”
I slid my hands down his back to cup his ass. “What happened in the dream?”
“You were with your friends at a football game. Laughing and smiling like you always were. You made eyes at me at the snack bar. All it took was one jerk of your head, and I was meeting you under the bleachers. It was dark and out of sight. You dropped to your knees, then I woke up.”
The threat of getting caught was hot.
“Aww, you poor thing. You didn’t even get to experience a dream blowjob?” I kissed his exaggerated pout.
“I was robbed.”
I kissed under his chin. “How about I fix that?” I pushed until he rolled onto his back.
“You’ve got good ideas.” His white bedding puffed up between his fingers as he clutched it.
