Page 27 of Christmas With My Ex

Is it just the snow, the isolation, that’s making this feel like it could work? Or is there really something left between us?

I push the thought away, focusing on the moment, on the way she’s smiling now, the tension from earlier gone.

At some point, Rives stands, grabbing her crutches. “I’ll be back, potty break,” she says, and I nod, watching her maneuver her way toward the hallway at the back of the bar.

I sit there for a minute, finishing off my beer, when the thought crosses my mind that maybe I should head to the restroom, too. It’s not far, but in this old saloon, the hallways are narrow and dark, a small reminder of how cramped this entire town is.

As I walk toward the restroom, I see her coming back, still hobbling on her crutches. We meet in the middle, in the dim light of the hallway, barely enough space for both of us to pass. My hand brushes her arm as we squeeze by, and suddenly, I feel the spark between us flare up.

We both freeze, the hallway suddenly feeling much smaller, the distance between us shrinking in an instant. Her eyes lock on mine, and I don’t think. I react.

Before I can stop myself, I lean in, my lips brushing hers. It’s soft at first, tentative, but the second I feel her respond, something inside me snaps. My hand finds her waist, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss.

She gasps against my mouth, her crutches clattering against the wall as I pull her into the nearby restroom, kicking the door closed behind us. I lock it without thinking, my heart racing, my breath coming fast.

The taste of her lips ignites a fire within me, a desperate need that I can't—and don't want to—control. The restroom is cramped, the sink taking up most of the space.

The large mirror reflects the urgency in our eyes.

Rives' crutches fall to the floor with a clatter, and she winces slightly, her hand instinctively going to her injured knee. It's a reminder that we need to be careful, but the look in her eyes tells me she's just as lost in this as I am.

I press her against the door, my body pinning hers. My hands are everywhere, tugging at her clothes, eager to feel her skin. I can't get enough of her. The taste of her mouth, the softness of her breath against my cheek, the way she moans softly when my fingers skim the edge of her waistband.

She fumbles with my belt, her movements hurried and clumsy with need. It's a frantic dance of hands and lips and tongues, each of us desperate for the other. I help her, our fingers tangling together in our haste. My jeans are pushed down just enough, and I can feel the heat of her through the thin fabric of her pants.

I lift her slightly, supporting her as she wraps her good leg around my waist. The other one hangs free, and I'm mindful of it, making sure not to put any pressure on her injury. She's trapped between me and the door, and it's intoxicating, the way she moves against me, seeking friction.

Our kisses are messy and deep, full of unspoken promises and years of longing. I can feel her smile against my lips, a sharedmoment of joy amidst the chaos of our desire. It’s just the two of us, in this tiny space, caught up in a whirlwind of passion that neither of us saw coming but should have.

I enter her with a single, smooth thrust, and we both gasp. She's tight and hot around me, and I have to pause for a moment, just to catch my breath and rein in the need to move. She feels too good, and I'm terrified of losing control too quickly.

But Rives has no such qualms. She urges me on with her hips, her fingers digging into my shoulders. I move inside her, each thrust punctuated by the soft slap of skin on skin, the rustle of clothes, the ragged sound of our breathing.

The world outside this bathroom ceases to exist. There's no snowstorm, no holiday, no postcard town, no past, no future—only the here and now, the two of us joined together in the most intimate way possible. It's wild and uncontrolled, yet there's a tenderness to it, a connection that goes beyond the physical.

I can feel her tightening around me, her body coiling like a spring. I brace myself against the door, driving into her with renewed vigor, chasing that precipice with an urgency that borders on desperation.

And then she's there, her body shattering around mine, her cry of pleasure muffled against my shoulder. I follow her over the edge, the force of my orgasm hitting me like a freight train, leaving me breathless and shaken.

For a long moment, we stay like that, neither of us willing to break the silence. Our breaths slow, our heartbeats gradually returning to normal. I lower her gently to the floor, making sure she's steady on her feet before I pull away, already missing the warmth of her body.

We dress quickly, the sound of our laughter filling the small space as we fumble with buttons and zippers. It's a light, joyful sound, one that I realize I've missed more than I care to admit.

As I watch Rives adjust her clothes, a sense of contentment washes over me. This—this right here—is what I've been missing. The connection, the laughter, the raw, unadulterated passion. It's always been there, simmering beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to ignite once again.

I take her hand, pressing a soft kiss to her palm. "Come on," I say, my voice filled with quiet promise. "Let's get back to the bar before they send out a search party."

She grins, leaning in to press a quick kiss to my cheek. "Only if you promise not to drag me into any more bathrooms. At least, not tonight."

I chuckle, opening the door and leading her back into the dimly lit hallway.

“I make no promises," I tease, winking at her as we step out into the bustling bar, the sound of conversation and laughter a stark contrast to the intimate silence we left behind.

ELEVEN

Rives

And this Christmas will be / A very special Christmas for me.

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