It's there as I hug her goodbye at the door and watch her climb into one of the sleighs waiting to take the guests back to Jingle Bell Junction proper and still in my head as I climb the stairs to my room.
It’s even there as I fall asleep and dream things a man should never dream about his best friend…
Chapter Two
ELLIOT
Nancy’s no longer dancing by the fire.
Nancy is fire itself.
We’re tangled up in each other, her thigh wrapped around my waist, her arms circling my neck as I kiss her deeply, ravenously. I kiss her like I’m never going to get enough of her mouth, her perfect taste, not even if we spend every second of the next fifty years making out.
“What were we thinking?” I mumble against her lips. “Wasting all those years being just friends when—”
“We could have been kissing,” she cuts in, her breath rushing out with a laugh that becomes a gasp as I squeeze her breast through her red satin bra. “I don’t know.” She moans and arches into my touch. “But thank God we came to our senses, because this is really nice.”
I pull back, my hand dropping from her breast as I glare down into her flushed face. “Nice? Did you just call kissing me ‘nice?’ That’s it? Nice?”
She grins, her eyes dancing as she takes my hand and puts it back on her breast. “Yeah, it’s nice. Don’t you think it’s nice?”
I pull my hand away again. She pouts and I have to fight the urge to kiss her again—her lips are even sexier when she pouts. “It’s a whole lot better than nice,” I insist. “A half day of work on Friday or an extra pickle with your sandwich is nice. This is erotic, sexy, earth-shattering.”
She laces her fingers through mine, leaning closer as she whispers, “It is earth-shattering. And I’d give you my pickle any day.”
I tip my chin down, brushing my nose against hers, electricity zinging across my skin from even that simple touch. “I’m supposed to give you my pickle. That’s the way this works.”
“Is it?” She kisses me, smiling against my lips as she murmurs, “It’s been so long, I’ve forgotten. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to give a girl a refresher course in coming her brains out, would you?”
My hand returns to her breast, squeezing as I promise, “By the time I’m done with you Miss Tucker, you won’t have a single functioning brain cell. Your head will be full of scrambled eggs and orgasm dust.”
She giggles. “Orgasm dust?”
“Like fairy dust.” I kiss her, marveling that each kiss is hotter, sweeter than the one before. “Because it makes you feel like you’re flying.”
“I’m already flying,” she says, her fingers busy on my dress shirt buttons as we back toward the couch on the other side of the room.
We’re in my New York apartment with all the lights of the city sparkling outside the windows like a field of stars.
I don’t remember the drive back from Vermont or when Nancy decided to come with me, but what man can be expected to remember mundane things like driving, when his best friend has just revealed herself to be a sex goddess of unparalleled proportions?
Nancy is…intoxicating. Irresistible.
And so damned important to me.
“I don’t want to mess this up,” I confess as the backs of her knees hit the couch. I brace my foot on the cushions, keeping us both from tumbling over, not wanting to get horizontal until I’m sure we’re on the same page. “So, I need you to tell me. Tell me when I do something right or wrong. Show me how to be the man you need me to be because I don’t ever want to let you down.”
“You’re already the man I need you to be.” Her voice is husky, more seductive than I’ve ever heard it and it goes right to my cock. Which is already hard. It’s a very hard cock. And I need Nancy like I’ve never needed any woman before.
She grapples with my shirt as we fall onto the sofa in a hot tangle of limbs. We’re half-sitting, half-leaning as I crush her lips with mine, wanting more of her, all of her, even as I start to worry that such a thing won’t ever be possible.
Nancy is always growing and changing and becoming a better version of herself. By tomorrow, there will always be more of her. More to seduce. More to lay claim to in our bed. More to love.
Love…
Am I in love with Nancy?
It seems like a silly question—right now, it’s so clear that I’ve always loved her, and I always will—but I can’t remember saying the words out loud. I can’t remember when we decided to date or when we started sleeping together or if I’ve ever told her that her lips remind me of Nantucket on a perfect summer day—sweet and salty and full of sunshine.
I pull back again, but before I can speak, Nancy’s hand is down the front of my pants. Her fingers wrap around my lava hot erection, sliding up and down in deliciously torturous strokes.
I groan, my balls tightening as a tiny voice in my brain insists that grip might be just a hair too tight.
But that voice is a big baby voice that doesn’t understand—
“Ow,” I blurt against her lips as she squeezes me hard enough to send a jolt of pain shooting up to tighten my nipples. My breath rushes out. “Easy there, killer.”
“Give it to me,” she whispers, her eyes wide and wild. “Give me your sperm.”
“What?” I ask, my stomach sinking as the shadows in the room grow dark and dangerous.
“Your sperm,” she demands. “Give it to me! Now! In the cup!”
She points over her shoulder. I jerk my head up to see a giant plastic cup with a blue lid screwed on top trotting into the room from the hallway leading to my bedroom. It’s like one of the cups you pee into at the doctor’s office, but as big as a grown man, with googly eyes, a big grinning mouth, and skinny legs that end in…tap shoes?
Yep, those are tap shoes. My suspicion is confirmed when the cup starts performing a little soft shoe routine on the kitchen tile.
Meanwhile, voices from the other side of the room begin to sing, “Sperm, sperm, sperm in the cup, gently spill the stream. Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily come until you scream,” to the tune of “Row, Row, Row Your Boat.”
I snap my head in that direction to see two more giant cups, also googly-eyed and grinning, but without tap shoes. They’re both wearing combat boots, like weird human-sized cup soldiers about to head into battle.
“What the fuck?” I look back down at Nancy, my eyes feeling like they’re about to jump out of my head.
“The doctor said it might not work the first time,” she calmly explains, now stroking my cock in a much gentler, more seductive fashion that makes it hard to think as she adds, “So we should get two or three samples.”
“I don’t want to come in a cup,” I say, unreasonably enraged by the thought.
Nancy blinks. “But you promised you’d help me make a baby. Remember? You promised.”
“And I’m going to keep that promise,” I say, even though I don’t remember a damned thing before we started kissing a few minutes ago. “But not by coming in a cup. We’re going to do this the old-fashioned way. Lift your hips.”