“That sounds…good.” Her heated breath landed on my face.
The weight of the past five years anchored my body. My fingers ghosted along her soft jaw. I’d waited so long to touch her like this, and now the moment was here, heavier than I could have possibly imagined.
I brushed my thumb over her cheek. “Can I kiss you?”
She gazed into my eyes, and hers shone bright. After a few agonizing seconds, she nodded.
As the air grew thicker, my heart beat a wild staccato. I held her stare, halfway believing this was a dream. When I finally brought my mouth to hers, she tasted like spice and honey, like she’d snuck a few cookies. With one swipe of my tongue across the seam of her lips, she opened for me.
I shuddered, deepening the kiss, feeling her palm against my back as she rubbed a line between my shoulder blades. Her other hand slid up my chest, where she explored boldly, the soft pads of her fingertips dragging heat over the thin material of my T-shirt. She circled my nipples into stiff peaks beneath the thin cotton before clenching it in her fist and pulling me closer.
The kiss was intense in the way only hard-earned kisses could be. The low hum of the vinyl player, the lingering scent of the gingerbread, the shimmery glow from the Christmas trees—everything fell away as all my senses devoured the feeling of her mouth on mine.
Suddenly, nothing was enough for either of us.
She groaned and swung her leg over my lap to straddle my hips. I felt the heat of her center through her leggings as my hands moved to grasp her ass cheeks. My hard cock twitched as she bucked against me. Once. Twice. Three times. Until I worried I might come in my pants.
I pulled my head back quickly, breathless. We stared at one another before my eyes fell to the pulse beating in her throat. Her grip on my shirt slowly eased.
Pressing the heel of my hand against my aching erection, I panted rapidly, laboring to gain my senses, feeling the pounding of my heartbeat in my veins. A sensation of dizziness threatened.
Maureen drew her fingers to her mouth. “Oh my gosh, Will. I’m so sorry. I forgot you’re still recovering. Are you okay?” She reached out to place a palm on my forehead as though that would tell her anything. “You feel hot.”
I laughed, holding on to her hips as I got myself under control. “Of course I’m hot. My dream girl is sitting on my lap next to a fire. I just hope I’m not hallucinating.”
She angled her torso forward and buried her head in my neck. I felt her warm breath tease my sensitive skin for a few minutesas we stayed close. I ran gentle hands back and forth over her thighs.
“Dream girl,” she finally mumbled into my shirt before pushing off and standing. “You seem okay.”
“I am.” I released a long exhale. “Promise.”
“Still probably a good idea to pump the brakes.”
“Probably.”
Maureen looked down at me, shaking her head. “That was some kiss, Will.”
I knew she wasn’t ready to talk about what it meant yet, and I was okay with that. We had time.
“That’s an understatement,” I said. “And unless you want me to pull you right back into my lap again, we’d better switch gears immediately.” My dick finally deflated, and my breathing settled into something resembling normal.
Maureen seemed grateful for the—albeit abrupt—subject change, as I knew she would be. “Got something in mind?”
“How about you open your computer so we can see how much everyone loved your latest Francesca video?”
Chapter twenty-three
Maureen
The Holiday Hoopla looked exactly the way I remembered. Six blocks along Main Street had been closed to traffic with every light pole and mailbox lit up along the way. There were booths and games. Cider, hot chocolate, and treats for sale. A candy cane–patterned tent for the children’s coloring contest. Kitschy homemade items on display. Even though the aesthetics were slightly different—crocheted tablet covers for sale instead of potholders—the charm remained intact.
The city’s official holiday tree stood proudly in the center of it all. I remembered gazing up at it as a small child. The giant star on top was the same one they’d used since my mom was a little girl. Music could be heard from all directions, with bandsset up on either side of the main event area and roving groups of carolers throughout. I glanced over at the churro cart and had a momentary flash of memory—my father and I sharing the hot, sugary treat as I bounced on his shoulders.
There was a different sort of joy in attending the Hoopla as an adult, appreciating the innocence and tradition of it all.
Not to mention how happy I was to have Will by my side. Watching him experience the Hoopla for the first time was almost as gratifying as my nostalgia.
It had been an interesting four days since we’d shared that toe-curling make-out session on the couch. We hadn’t talked yet about what should come next for us, and we hadn’t kissed again. But something had changed. There were stolen brushes of his fingertips along my arm in the kitchen and lingering glances in the hallway as we said good night. Even now, he walked alongside me with his body pressed close, occasionally settling his hand on my back.
