Mission of Christmas (6 page)

Andy had my pants off in one quick stroke—I knew there was a reason I loved my drawstring pajamas. I think I should find the person who invented them and write them a kindly worded letter at the—

Holy hell, what was he doing?

I looked down, and Andy pushed my legs apart, kneeling like a starving man at a buffet.

And when he started his ministrations—licks, sucks, touches, caresses, kisses, I had no idea what all it was, I just knew it sent me into orbit. I moaned, I bucked and I cried out as he did his thing. I rocked my hips in mini thrusts against him, my body no longer under any particular mental control.

As the orgasm built, I lost all concept of space and time. In the past, it usually took me forever to reach climax—at least without the help of my battery operated devices. But Andy knew exactly how to hit the right places and send me rocketing toward the stratosphere without help from anything mechanical.

I cried out, my whole body shaking, but he didn’t stop until I’d finally crested and fell limp against the bed.

When I was able to move my head again, I looked up and saw him smiling.
 

“Have a nice trip?”

“What day is it again?”

“I have done my job.” He stood, his knees creaking as he did.

I blinked. “You okay?”

“Just getting older, babe.”

“Next time I’ll get you a pillow, you old fart.”

Andy laughed and jumped on me. We started to kiss; he rolled me around on the bed, first he was on top, then I was, our bodies hot for each other, and finally we rested with him pinning me down—in all the good ways.

He smiled at me. “I’ll show you an old fart. Where are the condoms?”

I raised my eyebrow. “What makes you think I have condoms?” I always kept my own stock. I was a control freak like that. And Andy knew it. We had joked about our preferences on those occasional late nights watching movies.

“Because you’re you.” He rocked his hips into mine, and I lost all forms of smart ass retorts running around in my brain.

“Top drawer of the nightstand.”

He scooted up just enough to reach the nightstand and pulled the drawer open. “Hello, what do we have here?”

I turned and looked, and realized he was holding my red vibrator. “Uh, nights get cold and lonely?”

He smiled, hitting the buttons, and watching the way the head rotated and the little nubby vibrated on it. “We may have to play with that later.” He stuffed it back in the drawer and pulled out a condom. “For now, though, you got me.”

“For now?”

“I’m no battery operated device,” he said as he suited up. “But I bet I can make you scream again.”

“You think?”

He slid into me in one hard stroke, and I let out a cry.

“Yes, I think.”

Chapter Eight

Sunday

Bacon?

Where in the hell did bacon come from?

I rolled over, feeling the indentation on the bed, the place where Andy had slept last night. Because, yeah, we did get to sleep.

Eventually. I hate to speculate what time it was, though.

From the amount of sunlight bursting in the room, I was pretty sure it had to be after ten. It made me wonder why Andy wasn’t at church. I climbed out of bed, grabbing the nearest thing to me. Damn it was cold—thank God the garment happened to be my flannel pajamas.

I padded out into the kitchen to find Andy, dressed in his slacks only, cooking breakfast.

Didn’t he get cold?

I climbed on a barstool at the kitchen bar and felt my mind being turned into sludgy, post-coupling, twenty-something stupidity. “Hi.”

And I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face.

He turned and glanced back at me. “Hi.” He raised his shoulder toward the coffee pot on the cabinet. “I made some coffee.”

“What time is it?” I walked into the kitchen and noticed Andy drinking from my favorite blue mug. I wasn’t going to argue—he did give me multiple orgasms last night. He could have whatever cup he wanted.

I grabbed another cup from the cabinet and helped myself to the coffee.

“A little after eleven.”

I took a sip off the steaming brew. “Where’d you find bacon?” I asked, watching him expertly cook the food.

“Stuffed in the back of your freezer. You really should clean that thing out.”

“Bite me.”

“Later.”

I drank more coffee as Andy dished up the bacon. “Shouldn’t you be at church?”

“Normally, I would be. I’ll make up for it this week.”

“Why?”

He glanced at me. “Christmas Eve service.”

“Well, I don’t want your mom hunting me down for turning you into a delinquent.”

A smile tipped the corner of his mouth. “My mom already thinks you’ve done that.”

I groaned. “Even your mom thinks we’re sleeping together?”

“We are.”

“Before today.”

“I think she assumed we were, but was too polite to ask.” He sopped up some of the bacon grease with paper towels and pulled eggs out of my fridge. “These any good?”

“Should be. I just bought them.”

He cracked a couple open. “You still like them over easy?”

I smiled. “Yeah.” It wasn’t uncommon for us to have breakfast together; we’d crashed at each other’s house enough times over the last year or so that breakfast wasn’t too weird. At least it shouldn’t have been.

Still, there was this
thing
hanging in the air.

“So what are we going to do about last night?” I asked.

“What about it?” He let the eggs cook and faced me, taking a sip off his own coffee.

“Well, I can see you’re not in awkward, run away mode, so I’m thinking you’re not terribly upset about this turn of events.”

“Why should I be?” He crossed his arms. “I meant what I said last night. I’ve wanted to do that for a very long time.”

“This is me you’re talking to. We don’t have to do pretenses with each other. We know what we’re doing. What we’ve done.”

“So what’s the big deal?”

“Is this going to be a friends-with-benefits kind of thing, or are we just chalking it up to a night of emotion, tucked away and forgotten?” I personally didn’t know if I liked the idea of either option. I mean, friends-with-benefits could get messy.

And I liked having Hawkins around—I didn’t have to put up a front with him, like I did in a lot of relationships. Did I love him? Sure I did. I’d cry if he died. I wasn’t completely heartless. But I wasn’t in love with him.

Gooey, floaty, dancing with stars in the eyes wasn’t my kind of love.

I was a practical gal.

“What do you want?” His lips, set in a grim line, made me wonder exactly what the right answer could be.

I ran my fingers down the side of my coffee mug, tracing the stripes. “I don’t know.” I replied with the most honest answer I could give him. “What do you want?”

“For you to be happy.”

I rolled my eyes. “You gotta be more specific. I’m happy with coffee and a bagel.”

“I know. There were four kinds of bagels in your fridge.”

“I’m a simple gal.”

His eyes were dark. “I want you.”

I gulped.

He turned back to the skillet, his attention on the eggs as he finished them. He put them on plates and handed me one, including several pieces of bacon. He didn’t come out of the kitchen, instead setting his plate on the counter across from me, cutting himself a piece of egg.

My guts were rocking around at a million miles an hour, and as good as my eggs looked and as awesome as the bacon smelled, I just didn’t know if I could deal with him wanting me.

“What do you mean, want me? You want to qualify that?” I asked, my voice shaking as I spoke. I kept hearing that old adage—be sure you want to know the answer when you ask the question.

“I would think, as long as we’ve known each other, that I wouldn’t have to.” He took a couple of big bites of his eggs.

Chicken.

Stuffing his mouth with food so he wouldn’t have to speak.

“I think that’s precisely why you would qualify it. We’re too old to screw with each other. The rules should be laid out pretty plain. If you want to do the friends with benefits thing, well, I wouldn’t be opposed to the idea.”

Of course, I kinda would be opposed to it—I wasn’t sure I could handle being his piece on the side if he decided to go on a date.

See, already the idea was a bad one—I was getting weird jealousy vibes over something that wasn’t even happening yet.

“Friends with benefits?”

“Bed buddies.”

“I know what it means.”

“So why do you look confused?”

“Are you against the idea of a committed relationship?” He watched me with his analytical gaze, and I wasn’t sure how I felt.

I poked part of my egg with a stick of bacon. “We’re attached at the hip anyway. We work together. We spend our weekends together. What would be different?”

“What would change…” he echoed, his plate clattering in the sink. He walked out of the kitchen, heading toward the bedroom.

I hopped up and followed him. “Andy?”

He was putting on his shirt. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow.” He brushed past me, and my arm felt scalded in hot water.

“Andy.”

He was out the front door before I could catch him. On the coffee table sat the bottle of Coco Chanel.

I walked back in the kitchen, slamming my own plate in the sink. “At least you could have washed the damn dishes.”

Shit.

Chapter Nine

Tuesday, Dec 23

The Christmas spirit was alive and well at work Tuesday. Well, from everyone but Hawkins.

I’d tried calling him later Sunday, but he wouldn’t answer. Monday, I didn’t see him at work anywhere. I even ventured out of my office to find him, but to no avail.

Chicken shit.

Of course I was used to Andy going out of his way to talk to me and to come by my space, but aside from his office, I had no idea where he lingered at work. So I didn’t know his favorite vending machine, where he got a glass of water—hell, what bathroom he usually used.

It wouldn’t be hard for him to just go about his day without seeing me.

It was almost quitting time on Tuesday, and I still hadn’t heard from him. Usually he responded to voicemails. I checked the inner office system, and he’d gotten the messages.

He just hadn’t bothered calling back.

I wasn’t happy about that.

This was why I didn’t want our relationship to turn physical—it just screwed everything up. Not that the physical wasn’t amazing.

Because it was…
I mean, the man gave me multiples.

There was no doubting his prowess in the bedroom. His feelings for me, though, I wasn’t quite sure what I thought about that.

I didn’t like change. I wasn’t a big fan of it—seemed almost every time I’d made a big change in my life, it’d been for the worse. About the only good changes I’d made in my life have been with Andy’s help. He found my divorce lawyer. He helped me in my college classes when learning the computer stuff. He found my job here.

Why would I want to ruin that relationship?

Sex muddled the mix. I couldn’t stand the thought of losing my best friend to gain a boyfriend.

Because eventually, we would break up, and he’d just be my ex. No relationship actually works out for me. For the record, see my failed marriage, and various short-lived boyfriends. I just don’t do relationships well. I’m too practical.
 

And while I could handle work, I doubted Andy would be able to. That would make things so awkward.

At home.

Everywhere.

I didn’t want to deal with the fallout. I mean, who would I watch movies with?
 

I had finished up a project and decided I’d go check his office one more time when Judy walked in.

“Merry Christmas,” she said with a grin. She was decked to the hilt in Christmas cheer, a bright green shirt with twinkle lights in it, and I wondered if she had a pocket radio playing Christmas music. The songs practically floated in like a smoke behind her. A slight bulge in her pocket seemed to be where the music came from.

“Merry Christmas,” I replied as I shut down my computer and grabbed my purse.

She tipped her head to the side, taking me in. “So, did Hawkins buy you perfume?”

I let out a sigh. “Yeah, he did.”

“Nice present.”

I shrugged. “It is what it is.”

“You two left after that. Did you get into a fight? I haven’t seen him around this end of the office for two days.”

“Sorta,” I replied. I wasn’t about to elaborate on what the fight entailed.

“I figured as much. May I give you a word of motherly advice?”