Despite the bright California sun, it looks pretty. At night, when the lights are on and the street glows, it’s magical.
“So Ryan and I should show up around ten tomorrow morning, right?”
“That’s perfect,” I say.
Damien and I are having friends and family over to the Lake Arrowhead house on Christmas Eve so that we can all be together on Christmas Day. The house is nestled in the San Bernadino Mountains, about two hours from our Malibu house. Damien designed and built it before we were together, and to me it’s like a five-star resort, with its sweeping balcony and stunning view of the lake.
Not only that, but Lake Arrowhead Village is sure to be decked out in fabulous holiday style, too, if we want to take a stroll on Christmas Eve or on Boxing Day.
“Are you driving up with Jackson and Sylvia?” I ask.
“They’re coming on their own,” Jamie replies. “We offered, but Jackson said it’s easier with Ronnie if they take their own car. Plus, Sylvia’s over her morning sickness, but driving in cars still gets to her, so they’ll probably be stopping a lot along the way.”
Sylvia is five months pregnant with her and Jackson’s first child, though Syl is already a mommy to Ronnie, who she adopted right after she and Jackson got married. Since Jackson is Damien’s half-brother, that makes me an aunt. I adore Ronnie, and I can’t wait to meet the new baby. After my sister’s suicide, I thought I’d never be an aunt—never feel like I had a sister again. So seeing these kids—and growing closer to Syl—is both wonderful and bittersweet.
“Who else is on the guest list?” Jamie asks. “Did Ollie bail?”
I shake my head. “No, he’s actually coming.”
“Yeah? Wow.”
I nod my agreement. I’d been surprised when Ollie’d accepted the invitation. For that matter, I’d been surprised when Damien suggested we invite him. Ollie is one of my oldest friends, and to say that he and Damien have had their ups and downs is an understatement.
For a while, Ollie had been living in New York, but he’s back in Los Angeles now. And although I know that Damien would be just fine never seeing Ollie again, I love Damien all the more for understanding that I don’t want to lose the friendship that I’d depended on for so much of my life.
“Will that be weird for you and Ryan?” I ask.
Jamie shakes her head. “He knows I screwed around. And now he knows there’s only one guy for me,” she adds with a wide, happy grin. “So who else?”
I laugh. “Isn’t that enough?” I’d actually invited three more couples, but Evelyn and Blaine are in Paris, Lisa and Preston are visiting family in Ohio, and Syl’s best friend, Cass, and her girlfriend, Siobhan, are in Munich for some sort of tattoo festival.
“I’m kind of bummed Lisa can’t make it,” I admit. “The guy who owns my building is turning it into office condos, and I’m thinking about buying my unit. I was hoping to talk to her more about that.” Lisa had helped me find the space originally, and she’s told me that if I want to buy, this is a good opportunity. I’ve actually been working on my business finances, trying to maneuver my assets so that purchasing makes sense financially, and I’m excited that’s it’s actually—almost—feasible.
“Honestly, I’m surprised you want anyone over. I mean, Damien’s been gone for what? A week now?”
“Eight long days,” I confirm. He’s been away for business—some new classified project for Stark Applied Technology—and since I had so much of my own work to do, I decided not to travel with him. It’s the longest we’ve been apart since we got married, and I absolutely can’t wait to see him again.
“He’s meeting me at the Arrowhead house tonight,” I tell her. “We’re going to make up for lost time. In fact, if you don’t mind, I want to pop into one more store before cocoa and brownies.”
I tug her to a stop in front of Marilyn’s Lounge, a high-end, German-based lingerie boutique that recently opened in Beverly Hills.
Jamie glances at the very sexy, very revealing items in the window, then raises a brow. “Plan to give Damien his Christmas present tonight?”
“Absolutely,” I say, pushing the door open and stepping inside. “After all, this is the kind of gift that just keeps giving.”
—
I’m pulling my car through the gated entry to the Alpine-style mountain home when Damien texts.
About fifteen minutes behind you.
I shake my head in amusement as I pull my car into the garage. Of course he knows that I’ve just arrived. He’s either tracking my cellphone or my car or he gets a notification whenever anyone uses the gate code to any of our homes. It used to annoy me. Now it makes me feel safe.
I kill the engine and text back: That’s eight days and fifteen minutes too long without you.
His reply makes me tingle with anticipation: I want you naked, baby. I don’t want to waste any time.
I bite my lip. Naked and wet and waiting.
The reply comes back at the speed of light. Christ, Nikki.
I don’t reply; I just grin.
A moment later, my phone dings again. How often have you touched yourself while I’ve been gone?
You know, I reply. And he does. Sort of, anyway. We’ve had phone sex, Skype sex. I even texted him a few naughty photos. And, of course, there were other times, too, when I was alone and missing him.
His reply makes my cheeks burn. Do I? Or did you touch yourself without me on the phone? Without my voice in your ear? Did you think of me and make yourself come? Did you deny me the pleasure of hearing you moan? Of hearing you call my name as you go over? Tell me, Nikki. Did you slide your fingers into your sweet cunt and imagine it was me?