Pancakes and Presents

Emilia woke before him on Christmas morning. She snuck out of the bedroom and silently shushed Storm as she eyed Luke’s snoozing form curled up on the couch.

A greasiness coagulated in her chest. Her throat dried and tightened, heart thudding too loudly. Yet more guilt for stealing his bed. He looked younger than his thirty years, and wholly at peace.

Adorable. If a man that size can be such a thing!

The harsh planes of his cheekbones and jaw, the often furrowed brow—it had softened in sleep. Mouth parted as his eyes moved under his closed lids, a thick dark blanket draped across his chest.

It couldn’t be comfortable, but he didn’t appear bothered by his current curled up position. She exhaled softly, stopped her silly staring and tip-toed to his kitchen, determined to treat him to a warm breakfast for a change.

He always cooked for her. Bless him. She had no gift to offer him and no way to get one. Food would have to do. Even if she’d be using his groceries to do it.

Yeah, as usual—I didn’t think this one through. Maybe if I smile at him, he’ll forget that reality!

She made a mental promise to order him a grocery delivery when the roads were clear. She ransacked his cupboards and fridge. Gathering what she needed. She set the frying pan on the stove with a clang and cringed.

The harder she tried to be quiet, the louder everything sounded. Even the noise of the sausages frying hit her ears more like rocks hitting drywall.

It didn’t help she was mumbling under her breath or humming, enjoying the savory, enticing scent of the cooked meat assaulting her senses. Her stomach growled in harmony with her chanting.

She tidied up as she went, but it still looked like a hurricane had hit the place while her back was turned. It wasn’t long before Luke came stumbling in.

Bleary-eyed and creases of sleep marking one side of his handsome face. His sleep rumpled prettiness distracted her from washing the dishes, and made her drop the spatula.

“Emilia? What’re you doin’?” He muttered.

His husky timbre, his Scottish accent stronger than ever, coated every word. A low rumble that reverberated through her sternum and raised the hair on her nape.

I. Am. Doomed. I want to bite him. Grab him. Anything. Just to stop the prickling goosebumps and see if he could make her burn.

“I’m repainting the kitchen!” She joked, grinning back at him and letting her gaze crawl over him.

She fought a shiver as she bent to retrieve the spatula. Head spinning and pulse rabbiting. She washed it and set it beside the empty pan on the small rack beside the sink as she waited for the bacon in the oven to finish.

She had time to just admire him. Her eyes lingered on his tousled raven hair, and how his shirt clung to his strong shoulders. Her smile gentled at how undone he seemed.

She was used to him always looking put together. This was almost…her thoughts went down a sultry path.

Heat flashed through her as she followed them. How would he look with nothing on but her scent inked into his pale skin? Both lost in the afterglow? 

“You don’t have to make me breakfast,” He said, coming up beside her and asking, “Can I help?”

“No! This is my gift to you.” She grabbed and waved the spatula at him, shooing him. It did not deter him.

“It’s my food...”

So much for him not noticing…

Her eyes narrowed to slits, mouth twitching to laugh as she retorted, “Yes, it is. But I already have a plan to replace it! Luke, stop it. Put. The. Pan. Down.”

He ignored her. Swerving her attempt to take it from him. Infuriating, stubborn man! 

“I’ll make pancakes, and you sort the rest,” He said, giving her a half smile and staying out of range of her utensil-turned-weapon.

“You are impossible.” She shook her head, exasperation clear on her face before she clicked on to what he suggested. “Did you say pancakes? Oh, I suppose that’s okay!”

His snort made her grin as she shuffled over to give him room to use the stove. Oh, torture. It was a sweet torture standing so close to him. Accidental touches and airy chuckles infused the steamy air as they worked, and only served as a reminder of the day before.

She should just grab him and kiss him. Let him know she knew. But did she really want their first kiss to happen before the man had a chance to brush his teeth?

she didn’t mind, but he would. Somehow, she knew that. Emilia focused on the real task instead, shoving all thoughts of romancing her neighbour aside until later.

She almost burnt her hand as she checked on the tray of bacon in the oven when he bumped her head with his hip. It’s fatty, meaty fragrance soaked the entire kitchen as soon as the roasting air gushed out the open glass door.

Her mouth watered and her stomach grumbled again. Her mind flipped between the present and that moment in the snow. She came so close to learning the contrast between his plush lips and bristled mouth.

Later. Later, she’d find out how he tasted. With every brush of their arms, a jolt of warmth shot through her. Involuntary shivers dripped like sparkling water down her spine. She used each opportunity to touch him as she found them, butterflies flying wild in her abdomen.

Energised to the point of blasting off with every nudge of his elbow on her arm or the weight of his attention squarely on her. Why was she like this? She’d dated people before.

Why did he make her feel like she was fourteen and hopelessly crushing on her classmate? Her cheeks heated as she chanced a peek at him, catching him staring.

She stifled a pleased smirk as he immediately looked away and swore at the blackened pancake he had to throw away. 

I’m not alone! He is caught in this glittering web just as I am. 

“You sure you can handle that? Or do you need me to step in and save the day?” She teased, a flirtatious note in her tone as he poured fresh batter into the pan.

He laughed, the sound like velvet covered gravel as it sent a thrill through her. “I think I can handle it, Lia. But I won’t say no if you want to jump in.”

She stille. Her smile broadened and her eyelids flickered, unable to hide her pleasure at him calling her Lia. Only her closest friends and family used the nickname. It didn’t feel wrong for him to use it.

It felt… right.

It almost distracted her from the fact he flirted back. Subtle. But it was there in the corners of his smirking mouth, the smolder in his obsidian eyes as his pupils dilated, and the lack of lines etched into his forehead.

None of his usual reserve to be found as his autumnal gaze glimmered with something that reminded her of long, late nights wearing very little but lots of skin. Dangerous. 

Perfect. She cleared her throat, searching for composure. But it had run away and left her with a whirlwind blend of anticipation, uncertainty, and hope—that was the brightest of all.

It all spread creeping vines through her chest, wrapping her ribs, and squeezing her heart until she was breathless.

“Say the word, Luke, and I’m yours,” She said after a too long pause, sounding more confident than she was.

He was silent for a beat too long. His head swung to her as she swallowed the childish giggle bubbling up in her throat. 

“I’ll manage. For now.”

I hope your implied ‘later’ comes very soon or I might explode from waiting. Patience. It’s not my virtue.

The heaven-sent aroma of freshly brewed coffee and their breakfast soon eclipsed her romantic hopes. She plated her half of their meal, nearly drooling as hunger gnawed at her insides. She stepped aside so Luke could add his pancakes to their plates.

He had burned none after the first. She liked to think he was getting used to her. That her need for constant noise and voicing all her thoughts wouldn’t chase him away now. She hoped he wouldn’t bolt if she tried to push it later. She handed him a cup of coffee.

Tea wouldn’t cut it today if she were to figure out how to bring up the drawing she’d stolen. Maybe it was better to leave that out of it. Let it happen organically.

He’s not a banana! Just fucking tell him, her mind yelled. She ignored it. The gentle touch of their fingers meeting as he took the mug from her sent a slithering, subtle shudder through her nerves.

And she knew she wasn’t imagining it when he lingered longer than needed. As though afraid it was all he would get. Her hands trembled a little as they moved to the living room, betraying her nerves. She smiled at Storm when she shuffled over to let Emilia sit beside her.

While they ate, she sat the in comfortable silence, her mind whirling with questions and ideas. They shared many stolen glances through their lashes. Her eyes full of fondness for the neighbor she never realized held her in sway until her bad luck forced them together.

What if her heating never broke? She didn’t want to imagine. Not now she was here. She waited until he’d cleared half his plate, a bite of her pancake soaked in butter and syrup waving with her fork as she voiced one of her thoughts.

“Why were you so serious about having pancakes?”

He chuckled, eyes dancing, a golden mirth shone bright as he said, “It’s the only thing Ariana ever learned to cook. She forced us all to let her make them for breakfast on Christmas morning every year and it became a tradition.” His head shook. “The first time, we all prepared to eat disks of charcoal. Thought we’d get food poisoning. She chased us out of the kitchen when we offered to help.”

Her heart broke for him, but she was selfishly grateful he hadn’t made it home. And delighted by how many words she got from him. She wanted to know him like he knew his old favorite books. 

“I’ve already said it, but I like her,” she said, stuffing the last syrupy bite into her mouth, chewing it, and swallowing it with a mouthful of sweetened coffee.

“Does your family have any traditions?” He asked after tossing bacon scraps to Storm.

She burst out laughing, head shaking. Fuck. No.

“No. Unless you count escaping somewhere roasting hot until it’s over and the world returns to normal.”

“I’ve often told myself I’d fuck off somewhere warm one year, but I never do,” he admitted, as if he was telling her a dark secret.

“I can’t picture you anywhere sunny without you turning lobster red,” She said, winking as he ducked his head to hide his smile.

“I think that’s why I haven’t done it.”

She chuckled, and turned the conversation back to his family. “What else do you all get up to at Christmas?”

He replied, “We’d be opening presents right after breakfast.” His eyes rolled, mouth twitching.  “Layla and my brothers take it too seriously.”

She perked up, too curious to know what his family got for him. She wouldn’t have a clue. Was there a special store that sold everything in black and white?! She should find out.

“That’s cute! Do they buy you things you like, or are they like my friend Mel? She sends something silly every year, so I have to carry it through security when I travel to hers.”

It was a ritual of humiliation she reveled in. The TSA agents never knew where to look. Maybe they placed bets on what she’d bring each year. They had missed out this Christmas.

“Sometimes it’s a joke, but no, they’re usually good at pickin’ things I’ll use. Notebooks, clothes, plane tickets, and stuff.”

She couldn’t resist a quip, brows waggling as she said, “Let me guess, they buy you everything in shades of black or grey?”

He narrowed his eyes, but didn’t deny it, making her cackle as he spoke. “I’m startin’ to think you don’t like my usual color palette.”

Her snort was distinctly unladylike. Her brain snagged on the word palette. Mind going next door to the drawing he’d done of her. She scrambled to find a way to ask him about it when he sat up straighter.

She had the abrupt and chilling feeling she should run. Flee the goddamn country.

“Your friend sent the present you left behind when we brought your tree here?”

Oh shit, no.

No, no, no.

No!

Please, don’t. Her inner voice hollered and screamed the same sentiments again and again.

“Uh, yeah. It’s fine. I don’t want to go get it, and it’s something that can wait.”

Her pulse jumped in her throat as trepidation fought with dark humor. Neither won as Luke got to his feet before she could form an excuse to keep him away from her apartment.

She felt as though she were watching a movie of her own life. A slow motion moment with a sinister piano melody playing in the background as the audience screamed at her to bolt. Her legs remained still. Luke only seemed to move faster.

“I can get it. Won’t take a minute,” He said, and she didn’t have the heart to wipe away the eager look in his eye.

She said nothing as he left her staring at the wall. Emilia promised herself she would murder Melanie for this.

Slowly, and with great vigor, she would dismantle her friend like her brother used to tear the heads off her Barbies when she annoyed him. There was no other option but death for this looming humiliation.

An unhinged lose clawed up her throat. She strangled it. Time, that cruel mistress, sped on as she waited. Counting down the seconds and trying to brace herself for whatever Mel had sent. She couldn’t because she upped the stakes every year.

Last year had been the most oversized butt plug she’d ever seen. Neon pink and heavy enough, it required two mailmen to carry the box to her apartment.

How anyone could use it for its intended purpose—she’d never know and didn’t want to find out. She gave it to her brother, who used it as a doorstop; Oliver’s tiny dog growled and attacked it whenever she walked past.

Teeth and claw marks covered it by the time he threw it out. Her cheeks already burned red-hot, the beat of her heart like a war drum in her ears. It marched her to her doom as Luke returned.

“It’s quite heavy,” He said as he handed it to her, and her stomach flipped and sank.

She chewed on the inside of her cheek until she tasted copper. Eyes flitting around for an escape route. A hatch or something she could disappear into. Her shoulders curled inward.

There was no way to get out of it.

He was trying to do a nice thing, and all she could think of was various torture methods she had read about that would make Melanie regret the day she met Emilia. If she were a tortoise, she’d retreat into her shell and never venture out again.

Ever. Not even for a head rub! Her chest filled with ribbons of fire that wrapped around her lungs. Its smoke strangled the breath from her. The present sat like a lead weight in her lap.

She fidgeted with the taped edges of it. Her breathing was shallow. Her head buzzed as though hundreds of bees had built a hive inside the cradle of her skull.

Her discomfort soared as she prayed for a reason to delay opening the gift. All too aware of Luke’s intense focus on her.

None came. She really didn’t want to cut and dye her hair to start her new life. Where would she even go? Jupiter didn’t seem far enough away.

Why did this have to happen to her? Fucking Melanie.

A deranged laugh threatened to escape Emilia, but she stifled it as she sat there. Petrified in place, her vision blurring. Panic, both freezing cold and scorching hot, gripped her like a barbed hand and squeezed.

Her cheeks flamed impossibly hotter, bypassing pink and turning a deep shade of crimson she couldn’t will away. Her chin quivered, a prickling sensation swept up the back of her neck and across her wincing face.

She avoided making eye contact with Luke as she unwrapped the box. Taking her time and wishing she had the power to teleport or fly far from here.

Short of a dragon to incinerate her to ash, the embarrassment would work just the same. Emilia tugged the sleek matte black box free of the childish Christmas wrapping covered in drunken elves and felt the weight of it.

It was definitely something sexual. She eyed the swooping font on the packaging, shoulders slumping even more as all strands of hope it wasn’t an adult plaything evaporated.

The brand was one she was familiar with. She resigned herself to endure it and never speak to her friend again until it was time to give Mel’s eulogy.

If Luke noticed her hesitation, he never questioned it, giving her time to draw a fortifying breath. If only she’d left her hair down!

She could’ve hidden behind it, but alas, it remained in its bird’s nest bun. The breath she took left her in a whoosh as she slid the toy free. She closed her eyes against the wash of scalding, clammy heat swamping her.

Hands sweating as she accidentally pressed a button and learned Mel had thoughtfully charged it for her. She jerked back.

Luke and Storm did the same. The noise thundered through the room like a fucking landslide; it was more akin to a chainsaw than a vibrator.

Luke stared at the floor as if unsure of what to look at. She gave up on making it out of this with a shred of dignity still intact and embraced it. She gritted her teeth and waved the toy like a magic wand. The bulbous head of the bright purple cock twirled around.

She trained her attention solely on the frighteningly large fake spinning dick. Unaware of the small slip of paper that had fluttered to the floor at Luke’s feet. The dildo wasn’t what she expected.

It was just a very loud and fancy toy. Mel promised her something that would ensure she would win this year’s game. Emilia had been dreading it since.

She should’ve known the “gift” was simply the entrée. Her false sense of security dissolved as fast as it had come. 

Luke’s awkward cough as he handed her a handwritten note should have signaled her impending mortification. If only she had the gift of foresight!

Mel, get your affairs in order. The next phase of our relationship will be your tombstone!

Paper crinkled and quaked in her hand. Her heart behind her constricting ribs skipped multiple beats and raced through her chest.

Since you won’t admit you want to fuck your neighbor, I thought you could fuck yourself until then.

Enjoy!

Love, Mel ;-)

Impalement on a rusty spike.

A toaster as a bath toy.

Flaying.

Waterboarding. She would do it all to her supposed “best friend” and smile while she did it. She fumbled to turn the toy off, succeeding only in making it go faster.

The noise somehow grew louder—Mel would’ve been better off buying her a damned jackhammer!

She prayed for the ground to open up and swallow her to end her misery. No such luck. She finally hit the correct sequence to turn the energetic cock off.

Her ears rang, a thousand-yard stare in her eyes as she crumpled the note in a fist and gripped the vibrator like a phallic purple shield. She slowly, so horribly slowly, turned to see what Luke’s face was doing.

His lips had pressed thin and white, his eyes watering as Storm crept closer to Emilia and tried to inspect the toy. She snatched it away and stuffed it unceremoniously back into its box.

The silence was deafening. A scream she wished she could join in with. She didn’t think her cheeks would ever cool down.

Even if they did, the memory would remain. She’d lose sleep over this until the day she died. Oh, well. Shit happens. To her more often than not, but still. 

It was best Luke knew what he was getting if he accepted her advances after this.

“Well then. I owe her a beating—or six. And I might just do it with this!” She chucked the box away from her and hoped she never saw the blasted thing again.

Luke didn’t respond for a while, fighting not to laugh. The sight made her own mouth curl as the panic dissipated at a snail’s pace. Her jumping pulse, squirming self, and wheeling mind refused to calm.

She was almost afraid to meet Luke’s eyes as he shook with repressed humor. Storm glanced between them and huffed through her nose. Surely thinking the humans had lost their minds.

I fear you are the smartest animal in this room, pup. 

Luke’s voice sounded strangled when he at last said, “Do you want to explain or forget about it?”

Her flickering heartbeat eased a little as he gave her an out. A warm, shimmering sensation infused her limbs. She as some of the tension left her body.

She needed alcohol in her system before they discussed this development. To blunt the sharp edge of embarrassment with the smothering effects of her favorite wine.

Yes. Alcohol. That was the way. She inhaled deep and held it, counting to five before releasing it. She fisted her hands to hide their tremor.

“Forget it. Burn it. I’ll have to work harder next year to get the bitch back.”

She crossed her mental fingers as Luke inclined his head in agreement. His dark eyes had grown fierce and full of a yearning she mirrored in her own expression.

Tonight, she promised herself, tonight she and Luke would stop waltzing around their mutual attraction.

Tonight, they’d light the fuse bound tight around them, then admire and bask in the lovely flames they created.

Luke would not spend another night on that damn couch!