Three games of flip cup later, and all the beer my stomach could take, I needed to use the restroom.
“I need to pee.”
Delaney gulped her beer and shook her head. “Come on. Let’s go dance.”
“I need to pee, though.”
We walked toward the house. “Okay. Go pee and I’ll meet you on the dance floor.”
There were two bathrooms in the entire house. One upstairs that had been designated as the fuck spot and one on the main floor. I took my chances and waited in line for the one downstairs. It seemed an eternity before it was my turn. I used the bathroom, washed my hands, and ran my fingers under my eyes to remove the mascara that had smudged.
Feeling a thousand times better, I walked toward the makeshift dance floor. My body swayed to a Timbaland song about promiscuous girls as I looked for Delaney.
“What are you doing?” I felt Nate’s warm breath on my neck. A smile grew on my face as I turned to face him.
“Have you seen Del?” I closed one eye and looked up at him.
“No.” He stepped closer and lowered his face to my ear. “Are you okay?”
“A little tipsy.” I giggled and goose bumps popped up all over my skin. He pulled back and I ran my gaze up his torso. “You know, Del is not happy about this whole thing.” I indicated his taut abs.
Nate ran his tongue across his lips. I bit mine to contain the fear of asking him to kiss me.
“Moose!” someone called from behind me. “Come on. We’re waiting for our pictures.”
“I have to do this Santa thing.” His green eyes never moved from mine. “Can you wait here for a second? I don’t want you walking around alone.”
I nodded. Nate’s body brushed against mine as he passed me, and the warmth of his skin had my body reheating. This couldn’t be good. Inhaling, I walked around the dance floor once more but I still couldn’t locate Delaney.
A line of girls and a few guys who wanted to joke around with a picture of sexy Santa had formed toward the den. I promised Nate I’d stay where I was, but he didn’t say I couldn’t get in line to sit on Santa’s lap. I also figured if Delaney showed up she would come looking for her boyfriend.
One by one, each girl sat on his lap and whispered in his ear. You could tell some girls were more daring than others. Nate’s face tensed when a girl got too close or whispered something in his ear that I assumed made him uncomfortable. Some of the guys fucked around and sat on Santa’s lap for a picture.
I was the last one in line. I had let eight people in front of me. Nate licked his lips and muttered, “Your turn, sweetheart.”
The butterflies began to flap their wings in my stomach. I chewed on my fingernails as I approached. A smile widened above Santa’s beard as he patted his right knee for me to sit.
“So, tell me, young lady.” He lowered his voice. “Have you been naughty or nice?” His fingers ran across my lower back.
I don’t know if it was the alcohol, his bare chest, or the way a sideways grin grew on his face, but I felt daring. Throwing away my fears, I leaned in closer. “I want to be very naughty.”
Nate looked away from the camera and over at me. Under my dress, I could feel his erection growing within his red pants.
“Naughty?” he questioned. His voice was so low I had to read his lips. I bit my lower lip and nodded.
“I can help you with that.” Nate never pulled his eyes away from mine as his hands continued to trace small circles around my back.
Suddenly, it was impossible to breathe. “I need some air.” I pushed off his lap and stood. Nate reached behind him, grabbed a white T-shirt, and pulled it his over his body.
“Let’s go.” He stood and grabbed my hand.
Mixed emotions ran through me and made speaking nearly impossible. Nate held my hand until we were outside. He led me to the back of the house, away from the chaos. I stood against the wall for support and he stepped in to block me from view.
“Better?” One hand rested on the brick wall and caged me in.
“A little.” I inhaled.
“Did I tell you how gorgeous you look?” His voice was low and husky.
My clouded head began to sway. I was drunk off the alcohol. I was drunk off him, too. “Nate,” I whispered.
“Brie.”
There was a line between us. A line that said he was my best friend’s boyfriend. A line we were desperately close to crossing.
“What are we doing?”
“We’re getting some air.”
“No.” I shook my head; my eyes felt heavy. “I mean this. Us. What are we doing?”
“I’m helping a friend.” His body inched closer to mine. His fingertip played with the hem of my skirt.