Accidentally Under Your Tree (Grand Ridge Christmas #1)

19. Lizzy

nineteen

Lizzy

Four nights before Christmas

A slice of dim light cut down the stairs when Will opened the basement door. I knew it was him, like I knew the thrum of my pulse. My fingers tingled, remembering the strands of his hair between them, the press of his powerful body. I was foolish when it came to him—If we'd been caught making out behind coats…I wouldn’t survive the humiliation. I couldn't find it in me to care.

Not when leaving him had felt like deprivation.

My aching need grew with every detail I learned about him. He'd been so sweet in the car on the way to the stable, maneuvering the conversation to include me and Rose. Asking us questions about our favorite Christmas gifts, we had the same answer: a trip to Hawaii for our senior year spring break. We'd talked over each other, recalling hiking to waterfalls, and snorkeling, and laughing at our dad discovering he loved fresh ocean fish. Both of us doing our best impression of him repeating, "This is ridiculous."

Will's favorite gift was from his mom, his childhood dog, Scout. "She was a good dog," he'd said, his voice etched with reminiscence.

He had a comfort with vulnerability that most people struggled with—me included. But in the presence of his openness, I found my guard dropping—allowing the shattered pieces of my heart to fit back together.

And then the way he'd swooped in and handled Mitchell. Will's protective side was just as sexy as every other angle I'd seen of him.

"Hello," he whispered from the top of the stairs.

"Hi," I whispered back.

I barely heard him close the door over the softly playing music. His descent was near silent. Each step punctuated my anticipation, amping up my excitement.

We were alone.

Finally.

Taking the last step, he planted his feet shoulder width apart. His white T-shirt was loose around his waist but fitted to his shoulders and pecs. His gray sweatpants sat low on his hips. He looked perfectly confident, except for his bare toes curling and uncurling on the carpet.

With the tilt of his head, he lifted the wine bottle I'd left upstairs. "Can I top you off?"

I resisted the corny urge to answer, Thought you'd never ask . Instead, I nodded and lifted my nearly empty glass.

"What are you doing down here in the dark?" he asked.

I jerked my head toward the laptop open on my lap. "Working."

Heat burned my cheeks as I realized that was what I intended, but I was actually scrolling through his Instagram. It'd lured me like a moth to the flame when I'd gone to the show's profile. The top post was the picture I'd taken earlier of him and Rose. In it he was looking at, or possibly just past, the camera with an intensity I recognized.

The top comment was from @iliketodoitmyself saying, If Bill looked at me the way he's looking at the camera I would combust.

Girl, same, I thought, but I didn't respond.

I sat my glass on the side table, angling my computer away from Will. Judging by his lifted eyebrow, I didn't angle far enough.

"Is that me?" He leaned down, putting a hand on the back of the sofa, the knuckle of his thumb touching my shoulder. That one point of contact was enough for my heart rate to jump. My lungs wanted more air, but I was sure he'd notice if I started panting.

"It's pro bono work," I lied.

He lifted a skeptical eyebrow.

"Your social media presence is the bedrock of your advertisement efforts. Should you ever suffer from scandal or a change in algorithm, it'd be wise to establish a few other avenues to drive business."

He straightened and grinned down at me. "Nice save."

"Thank you." I closed the laptop and set it down on the coffee table.

"Have more thoughts?”

"Always.”

The sofa was old and beaten in, and I sank a bit in his direction when he lowered onto the opposite cushion. I propped my elbow to rest my chin. I was overly aware of the space he took up, the negative space that I could fit into. My sudden lack of confidence caught me off guard. Just a few hours ago, I'd been willing to risk it all for the quickest make-out session in a coat closet.

"Here." Will patted his thigh.

"You want me to sit on your lap?"

He cocked his head to the side as if to say, Kinda . But what he said was, "Prop your feet on me so you don't have to be all corkscrew."

My pulse lost a beat or two. A fresh surge of energy lit me up from the inside. I was going to get to geek out about one of my favorite things, while touching him without having to pretend it was an accident or hiding.

I rotated, setting my bare feet on his firm thigh. One of his big hands circled my ankle, and it took me a moment to recover.

"What were you saying about algorithms?" he asked, running his thumb from the top of my foot to the bottom of my calf.

I swallowed. "Um…A better place to start would be, how much of your finances are based on your flips and how much is based on your YouTube channel?"

A crease formed between his eyebrows. "It's still primarily flips. I'd say 75-25."

"Okay, so a significant amount from the show. One benefit of it is that it's evergreen material. Even if details of a video fall out of fashion, there's still helpful information there. And obviously its residual income. But you also sacrifice privacy."

His hold on me tightened, then relaxed. "Would that be a problem for you?"

"No, it's no problem to create an infrastructure for your business. We just have to be strategic."

He bit his lower lip, his teeth glinted in the lights of the mini Christmas tree in the corner. "I meant, would it be a problem for you ?"

"Oh." I pinched the hem of my sweatshirt between my fingers, folding it over and over. "It would…be challenging."

A muscle ticked in his jaw.

"But um…" I began reminding myself how rewarding being bold had been. "I would be willing to try."

His eyes flicked to mine. It was too dark to make out their color, but there was no missing the heat in them. "You would?"

"This is," I searched my mind for the right word, "complicated."

He scoffed.

"But it's given me a chance to see you, the way you help my sister, how genuinely kind you are. I like you."

He tilted his face away from me, hiding his expression. "You deserve better than this."

A million partial thoughts flitted through my mind, but they all agreed with him. At the same moment, I didn't feel used, just dissatisfied.

I finally said, "It's temporary."

I glanced down at my fidgeting fingers. "It'd take some finessing. You and Rose would announce your break-up"—I put finger quotes around break-up—"You and I could date in secret for a few months. I wouldn't want to go public because it's just not me."

"So, you wouldn't openly date me?"

"That's not what I'm saying." I wrapped my hands around my thighs and pulled myself closer to him. "I wouldn't want to be on your show, or on any of your social media. We'd be public in our lives, but not on the internet."

"Given some thought?"

If you only knew how much I think about you…

"Some," I conceded. "Would that be enough for you?"

"Yes." He answered without hesitation. There was something so earnestly sweet about it. I fell a little further for him.

I nodded.

His thumb went back to its up and down motion. I was robbed of my ability to think. There was still more to discuss. Long-distant relationships were hard, and I didn't know how it would work, but he had a way of keeping me in the present. At that moment, we had an opportunity I wanted to take advantage of.

"No one knows we're down here," I whispered.

He froze before his eyes drew searing lines up my legs and body. His eyes bore into mine.

"If anyone walked down the hallway," I continued, "we'd have enough warning."

He swallowed. His shoulders clenched. I wanted to run my hands over the bound muscles. To wrap my legs around him. To have his mouth on mine and end the deprivation.

It had only been a few days, but the memory of his body on mine, in mine, kept me awake at night with need. My pulse drummed a beat through my whole body.

His eyes flicked to the ceiling, then to me.

The graze of his fingertips up the thin layer of my leggings sent shivers down my spine.

He gripped the back of my knee. "We have to be quiet."

"I can be quiet," I promised.

The press of his lips on the inside of my knee burned through fabric. My back arched. My nails scraped against the sofa cushions. I gasped.

Already too sensitive to his touch. It would have been humiliating if I wasn't so incensed.

"Shhh." He breathed down my thigh.

He pushed my leg between his body and the backrest.

With every kiss he pressed to my stomach, my chest, my throat, bound my heart. Until he brushed his soft lips along my jaw.

I bit my lips between my teeth to keep from calling out.

Hooking my legs around his waist, I pulled his mouth to mine. The brush of his tongue pulled me from underwater. My lungs filled with air, my body desperate for the oxygen that only he could provide. The soothing clarity that he was just as needy for me. I couldn't explain how I knew. Whatever called from within me found its answer in him.

His fingers dug into my waist.

We both groaned as I rocked my hips. The pressure of his hard cock against my sensitive clit sent shivers down my spine.

A floorboard overhead creaked.

We stilled except for the rise and fall of our chests.