IT’S New Year’s Eve. My least favorite holiday of the year.
I’m at the Lancaster residence with my boyfriend. His parents went to a party and they’re staying the night at the hotel where the festivities are being held, and Crew promised we’d be all alone.
Just the two of us.
But the moment I show up at his apartment, I realize he tricked me, and I don’t mind at all. There are people from school there. People I know and like, including Maggie. Lara and Brooke. I spot Ezra and Malcolm talking in a corner, the both of them laughing. Balloons crowd the ceiling with long curling ribbons, all of them pink and gold and white. Pink roses cover every available space and there’s a tower of champagne glasses on a table, each one full of the bubbly liquid.
I spot a pink and white cake on another table, surrounded by presents. It’s everything I described to him that night. Every single thing.
I glance up at Crew, who’s watching me with so much love shining in his eyes.
“You threw me a party,” I whisper.
“A New Year’s birthday party,” he says, grabbing hold of my hand and pulling me in for a kiss. “I hope you don’t mind.”
I’m so overwhelmed I’m afraid I might cry.
“I don’t mind,” I croak, grateful he holds me close so I can sniff into his shoulder, closing my eyes tight so the tears don’t leak.
“You look beautiful, Birdy,” he murmurs when I finally pull away.
I’m wearing a sparkly white dress. The sleeves are poufy and the bodice is deep, showing plenty of cleavage. The skirt is extra short and I leave a trail of iridescent glitter everywhere I go.
“Thank you. So do you.”
Crew is in a suit. Black. White shirt underneath, the top buttons undone, no tie necessary. He looks handsome and s*xy, and every time his gaze lands on me, my skin goes hot, because I know what he’s thinking about.
Me and him, naked. That’s happening soon, after the guests leave. But right now, I want to go say hi to everyone.
So I do.
I make the social rounds, Crew by my side, like we’re a real couple, which we are. There’s a table laden with catered food and plenty to drink, and eventually I get a plate, loading it with food before I grab a glass of champagne from the tower and sit with Maggie, drinking and eating while we catch up with each other.
It feels so good, spending time with my friends and knowing Crew is nearby, always with a steady eye on me. He mentioned to me a few days ago that he and Ezra talked it out, and they’re not angry at each other anymore, which makes my heart happy.
Eventually someone starts playing music and it’s so loud, people start dancing. The alcohol is flowing.
It’s turned into a real party.
“Have a drink, Wren!” Ezra encourages and I shake my head.
“I’ll wait until midnight,” I tell him, sending a secretive glance in my boyfriend’s direction.
“Aw come on—”
“Leave her the fuck alone, Ez,” Crew says, effectively shutting his friend up.
I can’t help but giggle. He’s still so grouchy. But never really toward me.
When it’s close to midnight, I end up standing by the Christmas tree, staring out at the city’s glittering lights. The heavy scent of pine still lingers, and I glance over at the tree, taken by the white lights. Crew comes up to me, I see his reflection in the window. He wraps his arm around my middle, his hand splayed across my stomach as I lean into his solid weight behind me.
“I want to tear off this dress.” He streaks his fingers across my stomach. “If you tear it, I’ll hurt you.”
He chuckles near my ear. “So ferocious. You’ve learned how to step it up, Birdy.”
Thanks to him. And my mother. And my own self. I don’t need to be scared and worried all the time. I can do things on my own.
I can be my own person. I don’t need anyone’s help—unless I ask for it. And it’s perfectly okay to ask for it.
“It’s eleven-fifty-two,” he whispers in my ear. “Want to be naked and in my bed by midnight?”
“No. We have guests,” I say primly. “I want to be right here with glasses of champagne and we can toast each other when the clock strikes twelve. What do you think?”
“I think you’re trying to reenact your deepest fantasy,” he says.
“I think you want to reenact my deepest fantasy, thanks to this party you threw me,” I remind him.
I remember how I told him about this not so long ago. How I wanted to have a combination New Year’s Eve/birthday party. Yet my birthday is over. The year is almost finished.
A new year is dawning and my life is about to change. It already has. In the best possible way.
“How about we toast each other, kiss right at midnight, and then you can take me to your bed and do whatever you want to me,” I suggest to him.
“Fuck, are you serious?” I glance up at him to see that hopeful expression on his face and I want to laugh.
“I’m dead serious.” It’s the least I can do after everything he’s given me. Besides, I’ll benefit from it no matter what.
“I can get Ez and Malcolm to kick everyone out eventually.” I smile. “Sounds like a plan.”
“Let me grab some champagne.”
He leaves me standing by the tree and I turn toward it, lightly touching the branches. The delicate ornaments hanging there. They’re all white and some look made of spun glass. Delicate snowflakes and trees. Thin glass balls and twisted candy canes.
“Here you go.” Crew hands me a champagne glass full of golden, bubbly liquid while keeping one for himself. The music shuts off and the TV is turned on, one of those New Year’s Eve countdown shows on. “We’ve got three minutes till midnight.”
“Getting closer.” Nerves fizz in my stomach, and for once on this night, they feel good. They feel right. This new year is going to be one full of endless possibilities. Big changes. An exciting future.
People start passing out hats and noise makers, and I take one, blowing it in Crew’s face. He grimaces, snatching it out of my hand.
“What color are you wearing tonight?” He’s talking about my lips.
“Sensible is the name.” I smile, desperate to take a sip of my champagne but wanting to wait for it to hit midnight first. “You like?”
“I love all the colors on your lips so far. Best gift I could’ve ever given you
—and myself.”
“You never did tell me how the salesperson reacted when you made your request,” I tease him.
“She thought I was joking.” He chuckles. “I then launched into a long explanation about the art and the story behind it, and when I was finished, she said she would love to help me.” His gaze finds mine. “She told me I must really love this girl and I told her yeah. Actually, I do.”
My heart is overflowing with emotion at what he just said. The way he’s looking at me. The crowd gathers together around the TV, some of them standing close to us, and Malcolm has a noise maker, which he blows at us, making me laugh.
“The countdown is almost on!” someone announces.
“Less than a minute,” Crew whispers, and I realize I don’t want to watch it on TV when we could look out the window and witness part of the actual countdown happen outside. We’ll be able to see fireworks at least.
“Let’s look out at the city,” I suggest, and we both turn to stare out the window, our backs to everyone.
He’s watching me. And I’m watching him. When everyone else starts to count down, he does too, his voice soft.
Just for me.
“Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six.” I join him.
“Five. Four. Three. Two. One.”
“Happy New Year, Birdy.” His face is so close, his lips brush mine when he speaks.
“Happy New Year,” I murmur just before I kiss him.
Despite the yelling and shouting from our party goers, I also can hear the dull explosions of fireworks shooting into the air. The roar of people welcoming the new year down on the streets. I pull away, to watch the
fireworks. Red and white blasts of color fill the sky, and Crew slips his arm around my shoulders, tucking me into him, his glass clinking next to mine.
“To the new year,” he says.
“To the new year,” I repeat before we both take a drink.
The champagne fizzes in my throat and I take another sip, eventually draining the glass. Crew does the same, taking my glass from me and setting them on a nearby table before he grabs my hand and leads me back to his bedroom.
We forget about everyone else. We’re only focused on each other.
It’s dark inside, the curtains open to let in the light from the skyscrapers, and when he pulls me to him, I go willingly. A soft moan leaves me when he races his hands up and down my sides, his fingers gathering the fabric of my dress.
“I can’t get enough of you,” he says just before his mouth is on mine and I open to him completely, my tongue darting out to meet his. The kiss is decadent. His mouth tastes of champagne and when his hands slip beneath the hem of my dress to land on my bare backside, I shiver.
He goes completely still. “You don’t have panties on.” “I don’t have a bra on either,” I tell him.
The hungry gleam in his eyes sends heat rushing between my legs and he quickly turns me around so my back is to him. He drifts his fingers across my exposed skin before tugging on the zipper. Pulling it down until the dress becomes loose on my body, falling forward. He pushes it off of me with impatient hands until it’s a heap around my feet and I kick it away, about to slip off my gold stiletto sandals when he stops me, his hand resting on my naked hip.
“Keep them on,” he practically growls.
I do as he asks, and when he turns me to face him once more, our mouths meet hungrily, his hands seemingly everywhere at once. On my waist, my hips. My breasts. My nipples. He cups me between my thighs, his fingers
teasing, dipping inside, and I relax my thigh muscles as much as I can, wanting more.
“I want to fuck you against the wall.”
My entire body lights up at his suggestion. Hmm. We’ve never done that before.
Next thing I know I’m against his bedroom wall, close to the windows, the city lit up before us. In the recent past, I would be freaking out, afraid someone might see us. Me. Completely naked.
Now I don’t even care. I’m too drunk on desire for him. The need to feel him moving inside my body overpowering everything else.
Slowly, he presses his fully-clothed body into my naked one and I hiss out a breath, my skin coming alive at the brush of his shirt and pants on my skin. He kisses my neck, his hands lightly resting on my hips, his mouth drifting down to my collarbone. My chest. He bends his knees, his lips wrapping around one nipple, and I thrust my hands in his hair, holding him to me.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs against my chest, his hand slipping down to stroke between my legs. I’m wet. I can hear his fingers slick through my desire, and I close my eyes, lightly banging the back of my head against the wall. Overcome already by his touch.
When he rises up and takes my mouth once more, his fingers still busy between my thighs, all I can do is let him stroke me, my knees threatening to buckle. He circles and rubs my clit, pleasure spiraling through me, and I know I’m close. I reach for his belt buckle, fumbling with it so badly, he bats my hand away and takes over. Undoes the belt, unzips his trousers and then I’m the one who’s slipping my hand into his pants, curling my fingers around his erection.
Next thing I know, I’m being lifted up, my legs going around his waist, his erection free and right where I need him the most. He slams into me so hard I lose my breath, his cock sliding in and out of my body while I cling to him, my mouth open against his neck, my arms wrapped around his broad shoulders. His hips piston against mine, his speed increasing with his every thrust, and I go completely still, already on the verge of an orgasm.
He knows just how to touch me—and where. My whimpers are an indication of what I want, where I want it, and he knows.
Already he understands my body and can give it exactly what I want. What I need.
My climax comes out of nowhere and is so strong, I struggle to breathe, my mind a complete blank. The only thing I can concentrate on is the intense tremors wracking my body. Radiating throughout my limbs. It goes on and on, like it’s never going to stop, and I swear at one point, my heart stops beating.
He comes too, a low groan sounding from deep in his chest, rippling across my skin. When it’s over, he presses me into the wall with all of his weight, my sweat-covered skin clinging to his clothes, our bodies still connected. He throbs inside me, his breath harsh, irregular. His mouth close to my ear.
“I like watching you when you come,” he whispers, and I duck my head, still shy sometimes, which is silly.
He has seen me naked so many times over the last few weeks, it’s not even funny.
I nod, still unable to speak. Too overwhelmed by what he makes me feel.
Everything we do together—especially this—feels so good, so right. I’m connected to him in a way that I don’t have with anyone else.
Not my friends. Not my family. No one.
Just him.
His mouth brushes my ear as he whispers, “I can make that happen again.” “I know you can.” I smile. I wonder if he can hear it in my voice.
“I do it all the time,” he continues. A soft laugh leaves me.
“You laugh, but you know it’s true.” He nips my lobe with his teeth. “I can make you come again and again. All night, if you’ll let me.”
A soft sigh escapes me, and when he nuzzles my neck, Crew whispers, “Say something.”
“I love you,” is what I tell him, and he lifts his head so he can stare into my eyes.
“I love you too.” His smile is one of pure satisfaction. “Take me to bed,” I demand.
“Why?” His hands slide over my bare butt, as if he’s going to carry me to the bed—with him still inside my body. “Are you tired?”
He’s teasing me.
I shake my head. “I want to ring in the new year properly. For the rest of the night.” I kiss him, my tongue darting out for a lick. “With you.”
Crew pulls out of me and lowers me to my feet. I’m kicking off my sandals when I notice something, and I reach for his jaw, turning his head to the side when I see it.
Lip prints all over his neck.
“I need to take a photo,” I start to say, but he grabs hold of me and carries me over to the bed, falling on top of it with me.
“No, you don’t. You have a lifetime to do that, remember?” He kisses me, stealing my breath, but not quite stealing all of my thoughts.
I rest my hand on his chest, stopping him. “Do you think this is going to work? Really?”
His smile is slow. Breathtaking. He touches my cheek. Drifts his fingers across my skin. “Yes, I do. No one else tolerates my rude ass like you do.”
I burst out laughing, joy making my chest hurt. “And no one else understands me like you do.”
He kisses me. “There’s one.”
I frown. “One what?”
“Kiss. I think I’m going to keep track of how many kisses I give you from now on.”
“That’s impossible.”
He kisses me again. “You think so? Watch me.” Another kiss.
“That’s three.” And another one. “Four…”
I climb on top of him, silencing his new countdown with my lips. We don’t need to keep count.
I know he’s going to give me at least a million more.
