“Okay.”
Snow had started to fall, and January watched from the picture window situated at the front of her house as Deckard backed his truck out of her driveway. It was silly to miss him already, but she did. She craved more time with him, more than the few hours they’ve had so far.
With a heavy sigh, she slid her jacket back on, grabbed her purse, then headed out to her car, locking her front door behind he
r.
January wasn’t sure how she was going to make it through the night without feeling the guilt weighing heavily on her. Not just the remorse of having to send Deckard away, but the responsibility for the reason Christmas was no longer in existence would be her burden to bare for years to come.
Chapter Five
Enjoyment at a family get-together around the holidays was uncommon for January. So, she was surprised at how much fun she had spending the previous evening with her family. The arrival of her brother made January want to appear putout that she had to suspend her plans, but as her niece’s swirled around her legs when January stepped through the door her chilled exterior began to thaw. Even Scrooge herself had a hard time staying angry when the cutest princesses wanted her attention.
She barely thought about Deckard the entire time she was there until her mom brought up that one of the neighbors had seen them outside the general store yesterday in a compromising position.
Her parents wanted to meet him even after she explained that Deckard wasn’t sticking around and had no intention to do so. Her mother huffed and scooped up the kids to make some clay stars for the solstice display on the mantle of their fireplace. Her father, on the other hand, had told her that she was worth sticking around for. January wasn’t sure how true that statement was, or if it was just her father letting her down gently, but it felt good just the same.
When she arrived home later that evening after disappointing her mother again after clarifying that she would not be attending the solstice festival with them this year, January had considered messaging Deckard and asking if he could come back over and continue what they had begun earlier. But she didn’t want to become that needy woman.
Raising her arms above her head January stretched then she sat her bag on the coffee table, taking a good look at the empty Christmas tree. It was a disappointing sight.
Her phone rang as she was getting ready for bed and fear shot through her when her mother’s name flashed across the screen. In a rare moment that January was going to remember for the rest of her days, her mother had called to apologize for the way she acted about the festival. Her mother was also concerned about how January had acted. “Out of sorts,” her mother had claimed. With a deep breath, January let it all flow. The wish, Christmas, the guilt, all of it. And her mother listened. She didn’t judge, she didn’t scoff, she simply opened her mind to the possibilities.
It was the first night in a long time that January went to bed without dreading the next morning.
In the morning, January was surprised to wake to a message on her phone from Deckard sent around 1 a.m., wishing that he had come back over when she got home. As she rolled over in bed she smiled to herself, but her grin didn’t last long as her phone rang, flashing a number from her office across the screen, reminding her that she had a day at the office to look forward to.
The only plus side to a busy day at work was that time usually flew by and this day was no exception. The fact that it was Friday helped motivate January even more.
It was a relief to be back home with the weekend in full force. January sighed in relief, her bag slung onto the small entry table as she entered her house and immediately walking toward her bedroom, shedding her clothes with every step. The turtleneck went after the shoes, then her bra was removed with a flip of her wrist against her back, and finally, she shimmied her pants down as she approached the bathroom. January wanted to take a long hot shower before Deckard arrived, but she knew that she didn’t have the time. He was on his way over and January still had to come up with something to make for dinner.
Even though she knew she needed to rush through the shower, she couldn’t control herself from gliding her hands down her soapy skin as she imagined how the night alone with Deckard may go.
Her fingers slipped between her legs and swirled effortlessly around her clit, sending shockwaves through her body. She pictured Deckard in her mind. Her hands were his hands. Her touch was his touch. The building orgasm was caused by him, not her, and it was delectable. January heard her cries echo against the tiles of her shower stall and she had to brace herself against the glass door with her free hand as the quakes purged through her body.
It took a few minutes, but January finally came back into herself and stared blankly at the knob of the shower as the steam rolled around her. Begrudgingly, she reached out and twisted the knob to turn off the water with her limp limbs. She stepped out of the stall, grabbing her towel from the hook and wrapping it around her body.
Though the towel was made of the softest cloth, it felt rough and scraped painfully against her sensitive skin. A curse mumbled from deep in her throat as she twisted the towel into itself to secure it around her body just as her doorbell sounded.
She shouted, “Coming,” but knew that the person on the other side of her door wasn’t going to hear.
Tucking her body behind the door as she opened it, she was surprised to see Deckard standing there with Chinese takeout dangling in a bag from his fingers.
“You’re early,” she exclaimed.
In response, Deckard held up his bag. “I come bearing gifts.”
January rolled her eyes as she ushered him inside, ignoring his growing grin as he took in her towel-clad body.
“You can set that up in the kitchen and I’ll slip on some clothes.”
“Don’t change on account of me,” he pointed out, earning himself a growl from January.
“Behave. I’ll be right back.”
On her way back to her bedroom, January made sure to pick up the clothing she had strewn about the room and hallway in her haste for a shower. She carried the pile and dumped it in her hamper then pondered for a moment about what to wear that evening. She wanted to look cute, obviously, but she also wanted to be comfortable.
In her closet, she sifted through the slacks, blouses, and dresses, but none of them seemed to fit what she was looking for. Comfort overruled fashion as she opened her dresser, pulling out a pair of black leggings and an oversized sweatshirt she had cut the neck out of so that it hung over one of her bare shoulders.