Page 46 of Holiday Crush

“You’re not so bad yourself.” Ivan blinked as if coming out of a trance and tilted his head toward the unshaded window meaningfully. “Careful. Anyone can see inside.”

The streets were empty but he was right. Thing was…I didn’t care.

“Let ’em see,” I replied, pushing his curls from his eyes.

“Are you sure about that? It’ll be a wicked scandal. Everyone will talk about us in church and wonder what sort of nefarious deeds we’re up to.”

“I really don’t think we’re on anyone’s radar, but we could always just tell them we’re into each other.” I swayed him from side to side.

His pretty smile nearly knocked me off my feet. Something strong sizzled in the air between us—sexual energy mixed with friendship and understanding.

I wasn’t sure what to make of us. I felt more connected and in-tune with Ivan than I did with teammates I’d sweated and bled with on the ice or friends I’d known for years. It was daunting to be seen for who I was with all of my flaws and pointless pride, but it was nice too. And comforting.

Just sharing space with him felt like a warm hug. In a room filled with snowflakes, the hum of holiday music, and the smell of coffee beans, it was damn near close to magical.

8

IVAN

The cat was officially out of the bag. Court and I had been seen canoodling in the coffee shop and holding hands on Main Street. Alert the press! This was news in Elmwood, which was somewhat amusing and also…alarming. It felt vaguely as if I’d left my diary open and shared my deepest secret.

Once upon a time, I’d dreamed improbable scenarios where a certain strapping jock barreled through a crowded campus to greet me. He’d offer his letterman jacket and insist on carrying my backpack before lacing our fingers and walking me to class.

I’d never shared that fantasy with a soul, not even Stacy. It had been laughable to think of someone like Court wanting me. We were polar opposites—light and dark, a popular guy and a nobody. I knew better than to hope this could ever be real.

Yet it was real now, and no one thought twice about it. None of the things I’d feared as a gay teen in Elmwood had happened. No one shunned us or boycotted the coffee shop, the bakery, or the rink. Then again, we had a small queer contingent in town now, so our liaison wasn’t exactly groundbreaking news to the masses.

However, it was to me.

I’d never been with anyone as attentive or accidentally charming as Court. For someone who hadn’t planned to be here for long, he had a knack for remembering names and showing interest. This morning was a great example. I overheard him ask Bryson about his son, Jake’s college applications and inquire after Crabby Annie’s thumb before offering to carry her latte next door.

In case you’re curious, Jake was stalling on his applications and seemed to be more focused on his girlfriend than anything…even hockey. And Annie grumbled about her thumb, her bum knee, eating turkey leftovers for four days in a row, and smacked his arm for daring to suggest she couldn’t carry her own fucking drink. She blew him a kiss when he held open the door, though, and mentioned that she’d made raspberry jam shortbread cookies for him.

He'd laughed at the exchange and picked up his own latte, squinting at the foam design. “That’s…mistletoe?”

“Yes! Well done.”

Court’s eyes had crinkled at the corners. “Phew. Good guess.”

“Guess? You mean it’s not obvious?”

“Oh, yeah. No, it’s totally obvious,” he’d lied.

And yes, I kind of loved this new routine. I loved the simple exchanges in a crowded room. I loved the weight of his gaze, the warmth of his smile, and the tingle of butterflies as our fingers brushed around a hot cup.

I had to admit, I was in the throes of a sex-induced crush haze. I couldn’t help it. This thing between us unnerved me for sure, but I wasn’t an idiot. I fully intended to ride out every second possible with Court. So as much as I looked forward to his morning visit, I was a gooey mess in the afternoon ’cause it meant we were that much closer to being naked and horizontal.

If he was early, I made him tea or a drink that seemed to go best with whatever pastry or cookie he’d brought from the bakery. We’d playfully discuss the complementary ingredients and share tidbits from our day as we locked up and tidied the store—the Mighty Mites’ progress, his workouts with Riley and Vinnie, the repeat customer who’d driven from Rutland to the Christmas shop in town because she wanted to take her mom to lunch at the diner and have coffee at Rise and Grind.

We never said much on the walk to my house, though. Anticipation was a heady drug, and we were drunk with desire. We couldn’t shed layers fast enough. We bounced off the walls with our mouths fused, pausing to shrug off jackets and yank our shirts over our heads. Sometimes we didn’t bother with nonessential clothing and I was perfectly fine with that. I just needed his dick.

He’d bent me over the sofa last night, my jeans at my ankles as he pulled my cheeks apart and licked me open. I’d been taken aback by the rim job, but I couldn’t say why. Court was up for anything. Leisurely BJs on the sofa, hand jobs in the shower, and every sexual position known to man in practically every room in my house.

I could still feel him this morning, and I loved it. I replayed details in my head—the way he filled me and moved inside me, the press of his body from behind, one hand on my hip, the other on my cock. He’d surrounded me, covered me, owned me. I clung to the cushion, panting for air till he pulled out and whispered, “Turn. I want to see you.” I’d obeyed, pleased to see he was as strung out as I was—sweaty, wild-eyed, and hard as nails.

His sheathed cock bobbed obscenely between us till I hooked my leg around his thigh and begged him to fuck me. Court picked me up in one swoop and lowered me onto the sofa, sucking my tongue as he thrust hard and deep.

I didn’t last long enough. I wanted more of him every time. I wanted to do it again…and again.