And I was still thinking about it as the movie ended, none of which I’d actually watched. I was thinking about that smoldering look of his, those dark eyes, and that wicked, wolfish grin. And I wanted him to be wicked with me. I wanted him to show me the darkness behind those eyes.
“What if I said I had a present for you?”
“Do you?”
“Maybe? Guess you’ll have to stay and find out.”
It was like this hanging, pulling sensation. This little thing pestering me and eating at me; a door that begged to be opened. It was like the Christmas present you find wrapped and hidden away in a closet the week before the actual holiday; the one that you just have to shake to see what might be inside.
And I had to see.
“Hey, uh, mom?” I jumped up from the couch, turning off the television. “I- uh, I have to go out for a little bit.”
What are you doing? I screamed at myself as I walked towards the coat rack by the font door. Was I crazy? Was I really going to go back over there? Into the wolf’s den?
“Oh, but honey! It’s Christmas Eve!” My frowned as she looked up from her baking.
“Oh, let her go be with her friends, dear,” My dad said from the kitchen sink behind her. “She’s a big girl now, let her go have some fun.”
I felt guilt as I pulled on my coat and boots and flashed them a quick smile, but I pushed it aside as I turned and opened the door again. The snow swirled around me as I stepped outside, and of the hundredth time, I wondered again what the hell I was doing. I knew what might happen if I went back over to Jon’s house, and the though both terrified and thrilled me. I was a virgin, after all, but I had a pretty good idea that I I kept walking, that wouldn’t be the case much longer.
What was I possibly thinking going back over to his house now, on Christmas Eve?
And why couldn’t I wait to find out?
Chapter 4:
“You are way too cute to be Santa, you know.”
I giggled as Jon opened the door, his eyes twinkling as he looked at me and ushered me inside.
What did I say then? What could I say to explain why I was back?
“I, uh, I think I left my scarf here.”
Jon grinned. “You’re wearing it.”
“Oh.” I felt my cheeks burn as he raised an eyebrow at me. “You want that second drink now?”
“Yes, please,” I said quickly, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. I shrugged my coat off as I kicked off my boots.
“No mittens?” Jon was looking at my hand as I rubbed them together in the heat of his living room. ”Here, let me hold your hands, they're freezing"
He was holding me tight then, close to him. My pulse raced in my throat, suddenly realizing the strength in those hands, how much bigger and older than I he was. He brought my hands to his chest, his eyes meeting my wide ones unflinchingly as he stared down at me.
“Here, sit. I’ll grab that cocoa.” I swallowed, not trusting myself to say a word as he led me to the couch before moving off towards the kitchen.
Jon passed me a mug when he came back, and I sipped it gingerly as he sat next to me on the sofa. Wow, he sure hadn’t skimped on the booze!
He laughed, as if reading the look on my face. “Best cure for cold weather; sorry if its too strong, kid.”
“No, no it’s fine.” I bit my lip as I looked at him, leaning back into the couch looking so cool and so easy. “It’s perfect.”
“Good, cheers.”
We clinked glasses before we moved to silence, sitting there in his house drinking the spiked cocoa. The heat of the room, silent but for the fireplace and our breathing, weighed down on me like a blanket, and suddenly, everything hit me all over again. What was I doing here? I shook my head, feeling the heat of the alcohol coursing through me; I really needed to get back home.
“You know, since we found the scarf and all, maybe I should go.”
Jon raise a brow at me; “Stay.”
"My mother will worry."
I don't know why I said it. I suppose it was half-true, though maybe I'd meant it as s threat, or leverage. Whatever the intention though, it came out pathetic more than anything else.
"What's the hurry, beautiful?" He winked at me, the gesture charming in a way that had me feeling warm all over.
"My...my fath-"
"Listen to that fire crackle, Chelsea"
He dropped his hand over my shoulders then, and I felt my pulse skip a beat as he pulled me close to him. I could smell the lingering alcohol on his breath, mixing intoxicatingly with the aftershave and woodsmoke and pine captivating and vying for my senses.