“Good,” Maria says. “I knew you would. As soon as she showed me I basically said that it would make your ass look amazing.”
I drop the basket of rolls, and they go flying, all over the floor. My face is burning, and if looks could kill, Maria would be dead and buried. “Really Maria?”
“If you’ve got it, flaunt it, sister.” She grins as she takes a sip of wine and I cover my face with my hands.
“Okay. Moving on,” I say, and I’m about to get up and clean up the roll explosion when Trevor puts his hand on my shoulder. “I’ve got it,” he says.
He takes the basket from my lap and starts gathering the rolls. I take another sip of wine. “Thanks.”
Trevor pulls his chair out. “Some went under the table.” He grins. “I’m going in.”
There are chuckles around the table as he drops down and scoots under the table cloth. “These rolls certainly know how to roll,” he says as his legs disappear. “Sorry everyone.” His body slides against my leg as he gathers the bread, and I feel as he turns to come back out. I feel him pause, and then his fingers on the bare skin of my ankle. I tear off a piece of bread and try to focus on what Bradley is saying.
Trevor’s hand slides up my leg and onto my thigh, and I try to keep my face neutral. Should I kick him? I could, but doing that might bring attention to it, especially with us packed in so close. I refill my wine glass, ignoring the fingers on my leg, ignoring the way my heart is beating and the way my stomach suddenly has its own set of butterflies. If he stays under there much longer everyone’s going to think he got lost and someone is going to look.
Then suddenly, I feel the fabric of his shirt against my leg and his fingers sliding close and his breath on my skin and Oh. My. God.
His fingers move my underwear and his tongue sweeps across my pussy from bottom to top, touching every part of me. A burst of pleasure flashes through my gut and I jump so hard that I spill my wine all over my sweater. “Shit!” I say.
“My fault,” Trevor says, coming out from under the table. “It’s a maze of legs under there. Someone had to get bumped.” His smile is as bright as the Christmas lights outside.
“Let me go clean this up,” I say, and look at Anna. “At least I didn’t get it on the skirt.”
The table laughs as I head to the bathroom. Thank god. I need a minute alone. Make that an hour. Frankly, it could be forever and I might not make sense of this—Trevor’s actions and my body’s feelings. I take the time to wash the wine off my sweater. Thankfully it’s white wine, but that can still stain. My brain circles around to why I spilled the wine in the first place. Why on earth? What would possess him to do that?
The door to the bathroom opens and Trevor comes in. He locks the door behind him.
“Trevor, what are you doing?”
He grins. “I thought we might continue what I started.”
“We can’t,” I say, going for the door. “And what the hell was that?”
My hand is on the handle when he grabs my hips and spins me. Now my back is against the door and Trevor is in front of me. Our bodies aren’t touching, but I can feel his heat, and the look on his face tells me that they’re not touching yet. “And why can’t we continue?” he asks.
“Because,” I say, “it’s—”
I don’t get to finish my sentence, because Trevor’s body is pressed against mine. And if that weren’t enough, he’s kissing me. Suddenly I think I can feel every cell inside myself, and I don’t know if I’ve ever felt this awake—this alive. My body goes soft and pliant, pressing against his as I open my mouth to him. His tongue plunges inside my mouth and I can think of other things of his I want inside me. My hands have a mind of their own and they’re exploring his shoulders, his ribs, all the muscles that hockey has honed and hardened.
Hockey. This is Trevor. Trevor.
I jerk back, breaking the kiss and dropping my hands away from him. One of his arms is wrapped around me, the other braced against the door. He’s pressing into me and I can feel how hard he is. He doesn’t move an inch.
He gives me that same maddening smirk from this afternoon. “Is something wrong?”
I notice just how out of breath I am. “Yes, something’s wrong. This. This is wrong, Trevor. We can’t do this.”
“Why not?”
I gape at him, trying to ignore the fact that his body is still warm on mine and the fact that I’d do just about anything to get him to kiss me again. I push those feelings back. We can’t. “You’re my son’s best friend. I watched you grow up. You’re…so young.”
He leans in close, and I lose my breath again. “And now that I’m gown up, I know exactly what I want.” He presses his lips against my neck, and my skin tingles. I feel my nipples harden into peaks and god, everything about him is overwhelming. I want him. But there are so many things. What happens if Brad finds out I slept with his best friend? If anyone finds out I had sex with a man half my age. “Trevor…why?”
It’s the only word I can force out of my mouth that encompasses everything I’m feeling. Why do I want him, why does he want me, why is any of this happening? “Stella,” he says, and I get wet at the sound of him saying my name in that voice—rough and raw and painting images in my mind of sleepless nights and skin on skin. I think he might say something else, but he kisses me again, and it’s fierce. His mouth possesses mine, and every thought I had, every argument I wanted to make is gone. There’s nothing that can stand up to the way this feels.
He molds me to him, and I let him. My body is singing, and if this is kissing than anything more is going to be the goddamn hallelujah chorus. His hands slide down my back and he grinds his hips against mine, the state of his cock more than obvious. Every tilt of his hips and stroke of his hands make me want him more, sparks of pleasure rushing across my skin and downward, collecting in my core.
A knock on the door makes me freeze. “Stella?” It’s Maria. “You okay in there?”
I look up at Trevor in shock, the realization of what I was just doing washing over me like a bucket of ice. Trevor’s smile tells me he regrets nothing. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I say. “I’ll be right out.”
“Have you seen Trevor?” she asks. “He disappeared.”
Trevor thrusts his hips into mine again, and I have to bite my lip to keep from moaning. “I’ve been in here the whole time,” I say, my voice sounding thin. “Maybe he went upstairs? I’ll be out in just a minute.”
I hear Maria walk away and I untangle myself from Trevor. I splash water on my face, across my mouth. I run my fingers through my hair. God, if anyone is looking for it they’ll be able to see, and I’m screwed. I don’t even know what to say to Trevor. I can’t. I turn to the door, and he hauls he me back against him. My body is flush against him, his cock pressed against my ass, and his lips are at my ear. “Why not?”
He releases me just as suddenly and I stumble out of the bathroom, trying to pick my wits back up off the floor. “I think the sweater will live,” I say, as I enter the dining room, adding a smile that I hope is convincing.
Thankfully no one seems to look too closely at me or notice the tell-tale signs that I just had a make out session in the bathroom. Even though I just got done spilling it, I finish the rest of my wine before returning to my food. The conversation continues around me, now discussing the length of time it takes to prepare Richard’s
potatoes.
It’s another few minutes before Trevor returns. “Sorry about that,” he says, grinning and looking directly at me. “I had to take care of something that couldn’t wait.”
4
It’s always rough the first night with family, getting everyone settled into their rooms, making sure everyone has enough towels and that they have everything they need for a good night’s sleep. However, after what seems like a hundred trips back and forth, my family is successfully settled and in bed. Since Trevor has excused himself to take a shower—and I am actively ignoring the image of him naked and wet—I make up his makeshift bed on the couch and finally have some time to chat with Brad.
“You feel good about your finals?” I ask, knowing he had been nervous. He’s majoring in engineering, and it’s not an easy major.
“Pretty good,” he says. “My advanced calculus one sucked, but everything else was pretty easy.”
I laugh. “Probably the last semester for that, right?”
“Right.” His classes will only get harder as time goes on.
I finish with the couch, and Brad follows me into the kitchen as I pull out the small pint of ice cream I bought for just us. An old habit of ours, a few bites of ice cream while sharing about the day. Brad grabs the spoons, and soon we’re sitting across the breakfast bar from each other like nothing has changed.
“So…” I start, hesitant. “How’s Leigh?”
Brad’s face falls. I’m not sure what he’s thinking. I’m not a fan of his girlfriend, who reminds me in some ways of Brad’s father, but I’ve tried to be supportive. He needs to make his own choices and his own mistakes.
“I would imagine she’s just fine,” he says bitterly.
I feel that sick feeling that comes when you see your child hurt, and I resist the urge to go hug him. “What happened?”
“Same as always,” he sighs. “She was never happy. There wasn’t anything good about us being together, or what I did, or who I was—or at least she made it seem like that. So I finally told her if she really felt that way that she could leave.”