Wrapped Up in Holly (Hart Brothers)

8. Holly

Holly

I didn’t know when I woke up this morning that I’d be ice skating at Rockefeller Center with my boyfriend, but here we were, laughing as he fell over for the umpteenth time.

“My ass is going to be bruised,” he grumbled.

I held my hand out to him. “This was your idea.”

“Not one of my better ones.”

“Hey!” I playfully whacked him in the stomach, and he threw his arm around my neck.

“I meant ice skating. Visiting you was a long time coming.”

Evan and I hadn’t seen each other in about six months. When I’d first signed with my agency three years ago, it was a slow start, getting my portfolio together and trying to book gigs. I’d had the time to see Evan whenever he had a break from school, but over the last two years, my career had taken off. I’d walked in shows all over the world, had been featured in multiple magazines, and met so many people in the industry, I should have been happy.

And yet, I hadn’t realized how unhappy I was until Evan showed up at my apartment door this morning. I was so surprised I’d knocked a picture frame off the wall.

We spent the day doing every stereotypical New York Christmas thing we could: strolled along 5 th Avenue to admire all the window dressings, drank a hot chocolate at Serendipity, caught the matinee performance of the Rockettes, took pictures in front of the Rockefeller tree, and now ice skating.

“You about ready to get out of here?” Evan asked, lacing his fingers with mine.

The sun was setting, and though it was still early, I was exhausted. I think I’d seen more of Manhattan than I had all year.

“Yeah. Let’s go home.”

Although, home wasn’t really home. It was a two-bedroom apartment I shared with two other models, Nadine and Imka. But there had yet to be a time when all three of us were there together. Imka, an in demand model from South Africa, was rarely there, so when she was, she slept on the pull-out couch. The few things she owned were stored around the apartment. My bedroom was the smaller one, just enough for me and my things. I’d left anything important with Evan.

He was my most important possession, after all.

And being with him now, in my home away from home, I didn’t know how I was going to be able to let him go again.

I didn’t know if it was this time of year that always reminded me of Evan or the melancholy of not having my friends or family around me during the holiday season, but I was struggling to keep the smile on my face, thinking of him leaving tomorrow.

Particularly after he’d surprised me, saving up all of his money for a plane ticket to come here on Christmas Eve Eve.

We removed our skates and laced our shoes back up before Evan slipped his arm around my waist. It was getting more and more crowded with tourists, and everywhere we turned, groups of people were stopped to take pictures or watch the breakdancing Santa. It was claustrophobic, and I burrowed into Evan’s side.

“You okay?” he asked, steering me around a cluster of teenage girls. When I nodded, he tugged on my hand. “Let’s cut this way,” he said, as if he was a real New Yorker, knowing exactly where to go. He probably studied the subway system in his spare time for the few times he had visited me.

Because that was Evan Hart, a planner, caretaker. Always responsible and always willing to go the extra mile. Or, in this case, 500 miles.

We hopped on the D line, finding two open seats between an older Black couple with lots of shopping bags and a young Asian kid eating a slice of pizza.

At one of the stops, a busker hopped on our train and started in with Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas is You.” Some people groaned while others bobbed their heads or joined in. I leaned my temple on Evan’s shoulder, thinking about how we’d promised not to get each other anything. Yet, here he was. My present.

And I’d done nothing, hadn’t bought him a gift.

“What’s wrong?” he asked as we stood, making our way off the train at 125 th Street.

“I feel bad.”

“About what?”

I pulled my coat up higher around my neck with one hand, since he wouldn’t let go of my other. “I didn’t get you a present.”

“We agreed not to get each other anything.”

“Yeah. Exactly. But you’re here, and?—”

“You’re my present,” he said.

“But you’re my present.”

He threw his arm around me, chuckling against my hair. “Get naked when we get home, and we’ll call it even.”

“I think I could handle that.”

He angled his head back, all arrogance and handsomeness. “You think?” When I furrowed my brow, his mouth tilted in what I could only describe as an absolutely filthy smirk. “It’s been a long time, babe. I’m not sure you could handle me.”

“I’ve handled you fine all these years.”

He squeezed me tighter as all the sarcasm drained from his words. “But I haven’t seen you in six months. We have a lot of making up to do.”

He said it so plainly, it almost hurt more. He was so secure in our relationship. It was like he didn’t care that we hadn’t seen each other in six months. He didn’t seem to be dying inside like I was.

“Come on.” He pulled me forward, hurrying up the three blocks to my apartment building, all but pushing me inside my door when we finally arrived. Imka was off somewhere fabulous while Nadine had gone home to her family for the holidays. I didn’t currently have the money to go home, so Evan and I had agreed to see each other in the new year when tickets wouldn’t be so high priced and when we each had more time.

I could only imagine how much his plane ticket cost. And it’s not like he had a ton of money. He’d graduated in May and started working immediately after, but his family’s farm wasn’t exactly a huge money-maker.

“Don’t feel bad,” he told me because, of course, he could read my mind. “I needed to see you. No matter how much you tell me you’re fine. I know you’re not fine.”

“Am I that transparent?” I asked, allowing him to take my hat and coat off, tossing them on the sofa. His own coat followed.

“I just know you that well.”

“Oh, yeah?”

He nodded, steering me into my room.

“What am I thinking right now?”

“You’re worried I don’t have the money to spend on a plane ticket.”

“Well, yeah, obviously. You?—”

“ You don’t need to worry about that.” He pushed me down onto the bed. “You let me worry about it.”

“But—”

He shook his head then lifted my arms in the air, tugging my sweater up and over my head. “I will always find a way to make it work. To see you. To be with you.” He unhooked my bra and tossed it over his shoulder, staring at my breasts for a moment before blinking up to meet my eyes. “Whether you’re here or Italy or…fucking Indonesia. I don’t care.” Then he nudged me back to the bed to unbutton my jeans. “I will always find a way to be with you. You don’t ever need to worry about me or us. I will always take care of you. No matter what.”

But that’s what made me feel bad. That he would have to come to me wherever I was because I didn’t have the time or money. Modeling wasn’t as glamorous or lucrative as the media would have society believe. It was hard and lonely work. And no matter how much I loved him, he didn’t deserve to sacrifice so much. While I sacrificed so little.

Evan threw my underwear and pants to the side, dropping kisses along my collarbone and tops of my breasts, barely skimming my nipple on his way down to my stomach. “I would really like you to stop thinking so hard. It’s distracting me.”

I laughed. “From what?”

“From giving you a lot of orgasms.” He dropped to his knees on the floor in front of the bed and yanked me to him, draping my legs over his broad shoulders. “Now knock it off so I can reacquaint myself with your pussy.”

He licked the flat of his tongue up my slit, his fingers digging into my hips like he was trying to keep me from getting away from him. But there was no other place I wanted to be right now.

Or ever.

He circled my clit with the tip of his tongue, letting out a deep rumbling groan like I was the best thing he’d ever tasted. I missed that sound. It had been so long since I’d heard it. I didn’t want to go another day without it, without feeling his hands on me.

“Ev…” I curled my fingers into his hair. “I…”

“Quiet.”

I panted a laugh, but there was no amusement in how he drove his fingers into me. He showed me no mercy, tonguing me relentlessly.

“Ev, I love you.”

He murmured something against my flesh.

“I don’t…”

He sucked on my clit, and I reflexively canted my hips off the bed.

“Oh, god, I’m already so close.”

He curved his fingers inside me, stroking me over and over. Usually he waited to do that, let me get used to the feel of him, but he wasn’t waiting tonight. He was forcing me over the edge.

“I’m coming. I’m coming.”

Roiling pleasure coiled in my lower belly while my feet flexed, my neck arched.

It went on and on. He didn’t let me come down. He only kept sucking and petting, stoking the fire, prolonging the wave of orgasm.

I bucked wildly under him. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.” I wrung my arm around his neck, yanking him up toward me. “Please, please. I need you in me.”

He kissed me, his mouth swollen and wet, but he didn’t reach for his pants. Merely dragged his tongue over my chin and throat.

“No, no. I need…”

“I need you to let me do this.” His voice was harsh, and I didn’t understand why. He shook his head as he settled back between my legs. “I love you. Forever.” He traced his fingertip along my already sensitive skin, absently playing with me. “And I will support you no matter what you want to do. We made it this far.” He dipped his finger into me, gentle this time. “But I went months without touching you, tasting you. Don’t make me rush. I want to take my time and make you come as many times as I can before I need to leave, because I don’t know when I’ll get it again.”

My rib cage cracked open. My heart broke in two. This man. He was perfect.

“Evan.” I tugged on his hair when he bent to lick into me. “Please. I need to talk to you.”

“So talk.” He licked my clit, and I sucked in a breath.

“Evan!”

“Not exactly how I imagined you saying my name, but we’ll try again.” Then he pushed another finger inside me and flicked his wrist. When I panted his name, I felt him smile against me. “That’s better.”

Though he moved slower, lazily running his tongue along the length of me, occasionally flicking at my clit, this second orgasm was stronger. The pressure built at the bottom of my spine, my skin pulled taut in anticipation, and suddenly I was engulfed in flames.

My lips were dry from my heaving breaths, my arms limp at my sides, and finally he levered himself over me, staring down at me with those fiercely pretty yet protective eyes. Like I was his everything.

And I couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Marry me.”

“What?”

I wiggled life back into my fingers and arms then molded my hands around to his jaw. “Will you marry me?”

He pursed his lips. “That’s supposed to be my line.”

I gave into an exhausted laugh. “Were you planning on saying it?”

He pushed off the bed, reaching for his backpack in the corner. He dug through one of the pockets and pulled out a small box then sat next to me on the bed. “I bought this the day after you told me about Micki.”

Micki, my agent. The one who’d pick me out of the runway show in school. The one who told me I could actually be something in this business if I wanted to. Back then, I’d had stars in my eyes. I’d thought someone was finally seeing me.

It’d been three years and lots of people had seen me.

Yet in the end, the only one who I ever cared about seeing me was the one person who I’d been constantly pulled from.

Now, here he was, holding out a small box for me to open.

“I would’ve asked you then, but I didn’t want you to think I was doing it because I didn’t want you to model. So I waited. Been carrying it around with me, waiting for the right time. But…” He shrugged. “There never seemed to be a right time, and I never want you to think I’m holding you back.”

“You’re not holding me back.” I slipped into his lap. He was still fully clothed, while I was completely naked and flushed from the heat of what he’d done to me. I kissed his stubborn jaw, always prickly with a day’s worth of a beard. The corner of his mouth that so often tipped up in amusement, but almost never full-out grinned. Then the center of his plush lips, sometimes quiet but always kind and constantly reassuring me. “You’re lifting me up.”

Then he literally lifted me up, situating me so my legs wrapped around his waist, and he popped open the little jewelry box. Inside was a plain gold band with a tiny diamond.

It was perfect.

He removed it and held it out to me. “Will you marry me?”

I took the ring from him, sliding it onto my fourth finger, and didn’t bother answering him. Instead, I crushed my mouth to his, pushing him down to the bed. I worked his pants and underwear down, and he shucked his shirt off.

I brushed my hands over the hair on his chest and kissed his breastbone then lower over the ridges of his abs, following the line of hair to his erection. When I curled my fingers around it, his muscles went rigid.

He combed his fingers through my hair, urging me to look at him. “I love you.”

I smiled and flattened my left palm on his stomach. “Love you, too.”

He briefly toyed with my ring, a smile on his face. Until I took him in my mouth. Then my fiancé exhaled roughly through parted lips, his eyes squeezed shut. I cupped my hand around his balls as I licked and sucked him, but I was unsteady using only one hand.

“You have to let go,” I said, my lips brushing against his shaft.

He stared down at me and shook his head. “No, I don’t.”

“If you want me to do a good job.”

“Babe, your mouth on me anywhere at any time, doing anything is a good job.”

When I kissed the tip and licked the bead of moisture away, he finally let go of me and tucked his arms behind his head, watching me. I wrapped my hand around the length of him, pumping it as I sucked, and color rose high in his cheeks.

“I’ve been looking into urban farming,” he said quietly.

“Hmm?”

His thighs clenched at my hum around him.

“Urban farming here. I learned a little bit about it in school, but I figured?—”

“What are you talking about?” He didn’t want me to talk while he was going down on me, but here he was, giving me a soliloquy about urban farming?

“It may take a while for me to find a job, but?—”

I sat up, my hands on his thighs. “No really, what are you talking about?”

“Moving here. Finding a job.”

“I don’t…” I scrambled to his side. “I don’t want you to move here.”

He sat up. “So, what do you want to do? Live apart?”

He sounded both hurt and angry, and I threw myself at him. “No. Of course not. I want to move home. With you.”

“But…how?”

“What do you mean, how?” I laughed into a kiss. “I’m going to pack my stuff and come home.”

“But this is where you live. Where you work.”

I shook my head. “I don’t want to live here. I don’t want to work here.”

He scratched the side of his head. I hadn’t seen him this confused since trying to find the symbolism in Hamlet. “I thought you loved modeling.”

“I do, but I also know I don’t want to do it forever. I can’t do it forever because you are my forever. I want to be with you, where you are.”

He held onto my hips, his fingertips digging into my skin. “You want to give all this up?”

“Give up sharing an apartment with two other girls and needing to maintain a twenty-five-inch waist? Giving up being lonely and away from you? Yes, absolutely.”

“Really? You really want to come home with me?”

I nodded, looping my arms around his neck. “And marry you. And have babies with you.”

“And you’re okay giving up traveling and working and?—”

“I’d give up everything for you. For us .”

He banded his arms around my back, holding me tightly. “I won’t let you regret it. I promise.”