Chapter 21: Naughty & Nice: Chapter 21

My body burns red hot, and my heart pounds a million beats a second as I stare aimlessly into the refrigerator.

I was hoping the cool air might help with my current situation, but all it does is remind me that I shouldn’t have opened it.

We’ve no idea how long this blackout is going to last; we don’t need all the food in here getting warm before necessary.

Apparently, there is no limit to my recklessness. If you can compare opening the fridge in a power outage to dirty dancing with twins.

My chest compresses and a huge sigh passes my lips.

“Noelle?” Rix’s voice is deep and raspy in a way I’d never really heard before this trip. Hearing it also isn’t the bucket of ice water I really need pouring over me.

“I’m okay,” I whisper, finally reaching for what I came in here for.

I wasn’t lying. I am hungry. And more than that, I need something to soak up the alcohol.

I don’t usually drink, and when I do, it’s not shots of vodka. And something tells me this is only the beginning. The three of us… we have a lot of night ahead of us.

My stomach knots with a mixture of excitement, anxiety, and anticipation.

Both of them had their hands and their lips on me.

Desire coils between my thighs and a little regret seeps in that I stopped it.

Should I have kept going?

I shake my head, trying to reconcile the old me and this bold new version.

Who knew that getting just a taste of what real sex is like would turn me into this… this…

An erratic laugh erupts from my throat as I wrap my fingers around a block of cheddar and spin around to face my best friend… my… boyfriend?

I’m hit with such a huge wave of reality, I’m not entirely sure how I remain on my feet.

Everything has changed.

Sure, that happened the night of the Halloween party.

I did this when I allowed Wilder to continue touching me.

I regretted it. Even on the drive here, on our first day, it was my biggest regret. Knowing how much it would hurt Hendrix to learn the truth. But now, suddenly, I regret nothing.

Okay, that’s a lie. There may be a tiny part of me that is regretting bailing on that situation out there in favor of… cheese.

Fucking cheese.

What was I thinking?

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Hendrix asks.

It’s pretty dark in here, with only a couple of candles and his cell illuminating the small room, but that doesn’t stop me from seeing the deep frown pinched between his brows.

“Yeah,” I say, forcing as much conviction into my tone as possible. I fail; the only thing I sound is drunk. “Help me get this together?” I ask, returning to the refrigerator for more cheese.

“Of course.”

A comfortable silence falls between us as we work side by side like we have a million times before. But while it might be relaxed, it’s impossible to ignore the elephant in the room.

My breath catches and my stomach knots when footsteps float our way. It was inevitable. Wilder isn’t the kind of guy who sits around and waits for things to come to him. He’s a go-getter in a way that I know Rix wishes he was too.

The second he steps into the room, I freeze. The images from what happened out in the living room only moments ago slam into me.

My hand trembles as I try to get some crackers out.

I’ve no idea if Hendrix and Wilder can see it in the dark, or just sense it, but both of them move closer.

Wilder’s hot breath washes down my neck as he steps up behind me, and a violent shiver races down my spine.

The length of his hot and hard body presses against my back.

Without thinking, I lean into him.

It feels good, familiar, comforting.

His hand lands on my hip, grounding me, reminding me just how good it felt being pinned between them.

Hendrix’s hand finds mine, and he entwines our fingers.

Instantly, the final few tense muscles in my body relax.

Right now, I feel like I belong more than I ever had in my life before.

Wilder’s hot breath rushes down my neck again before he leans even closer.

“What happens in a blackout stays in a blackout,” he whispers, his lips brushing the edge of my ear.

My breath catches.

Is it really that easy?

Could we carry on what we started out there earlier and then wake up in the morning like it never happened?

No. There is no way.

I already know it’s impossible to forget the things that Wilder Kemp is capable of.

I’ve tried. I’ve tried really fucking hard.

Almost as soon as his words have floated away, he turns the tables on me once again.

“This was a good idea,” he says leaning around me and quickly cutting off a corner of the blue cheese before me.

He throws it in his mouth and then turns to get us drinks.

“It’s red wine or port with cheese, right?”

“That’s very sophisticated of you,” Hendrix mocks.

“What? I can do sophisticated when it’s called for.”

Hendrix snorts, unwilling to believe his brother’s bullshit.

“When the fuck is it ever called for? I’ve seen the girls you spend time with; I can confidently say, it’s not for them.”

“Hey,” I argue, unable to keep my mouth shut.

“You don’t count, Elle,” Hendrix assures me, leaning in to brush a kiss on my cheek. “You buck every single one of Wilder’s trends when it comes to women.”

“She’s hot.”

“Every other trend.”

Wilder wants to argue, I can sense it, but he knows that Hendrix is right.

I’m not a jersey chaser. I’m the total opposite. I only ever watch football to support Wilder and be there for Hendrix as he does the same.

I don’t really care for the game. And I have even less interest in screwing my way around any team for bragging rights.

I can understand why most people would look at what happened between Wilder and me and pull a face.

I’m not the kind of girl he’d ever go after.

He’s not the kind of guy I’d ever be interested in.

But when we came together that night, something happened.

Something I’ve been unable to forget.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I mutter, finishing off our platter of cheese and crackers.

“I would; he hooks up with some right dogs.”

Shaking my head, I pick up the plate and head toward the door so we can eat in the dim candlelight of the living room.

“We don’t have either of those options,” Hendrix says, going back to Wilder’s first point.

“And I’m not having any more vodka,” I add.

“Beer it is then,” Wilder states as I lower the plate to the table.

“N-no, I’m not sure⁠—”

“It’s Christmas. What’s the worst that can happen?” Hendrix asks, using my own words against me.

“Do you really want to go there?” I ask, dropping into the middle of the couch without thinking.

Hendrix takes one spot beside me, and only a few seconds later, Wilder takes the other after placing three beers on the coffee table.

“Well, this is cozy,” he muses, reaching for a cracker and loading it with a soft cheese.

“There is another chair,” Rix grumbles, copying his twin and throwing a loaded cracker into his mouth.

“You’re funny,” Wilder mocks.

They both fall quiet as they devour the food before us, but I quickly find that any appetite I did have has vanished, and it only gets worse every time one of them brushes against me.

“What’s that?” I ask when Wilder returns from the kitchen a while later with a bag of something in his hand.

He holds it up with a grin playing on his face.

“Who wants s’mores?”

“Nah, I’m good,” Hendrix says, falling back onto the couch.

“You’re gonna miss out, man,” Wilder teases.

I narrow my eyes at him, trying to figure out what he’s planning.

“Elle?” he asks, knowing just as well as Hendrix that I can’t refuse a s’more.

I scoot to the edge of the couch, ready to stand as Wilder holds his hand out for me.

I stare at it frozen. It would be so easy to slip my hand into his and allow him to pull me toward him, but…

I glance back at Rix.

“Go,” he encourages with a soft smile playing on his lips.

With a single nod, I lift my hand and allow Wilder my pull me from the couch.

The heat of the fire licks up my body as we approach.

This is it. This is the kind of cozy Christmas I dreamed of.

S’mores in front of the fire is my kind of heaven.

Wilder passes me a couple of sticks while he rips into the bag and pulls out a giant marshmallow. Holding out a stick, he places it on the end, and I move it toward the flames.

I watch enthralled as the marshmallow begins to melt and toast.

“Did you bring the—” My question is cut off when he pulls a packet of Graham crackers from… somewhere.

He opens them for me before spearing his marshmallow and holding it out next to mine in the fire.

Once I’m happy, I sandwich my marshmallow between the crackers and lift it to my mouth.

“Ow,” I complain as it burns my tongue, but it’s not enough to stop me. “So good,” I mumble.

Wilder’s eyes turn on me as I battle with my s’more. The gooey marshmallow drips down my chin.

My body burns hotter with his attention, and it only increases when Rix’s voice floats through the air.

“Do it,” he instructs.

Wilder continues to stare at me, his eyes darting between mine and my lips.

“Rix, I haven’t⁠—”

“Do. It,” Rix repeats.

The fire sizzles beside us, forcing us to look over.

“Ah, damn,” Wilder complains as we watch his fallen marshmallow melt and burn on a smoldering log. “Well, it looks like I’m going to have to share yours now.”

Before I have a chance to react, Wilder leans forward, wraps his hand around the back of my neck, and drags his tongue up my chin.

My gasp fills the air, and as he pulls my bottom lip into his mouth and sucks, I stop breathing entirely.

He’s not kissing me, not really, but damn.

Fire burns through my veins as he pulls back and looks at me with smoldering, heavy-lidded eyes.

“Delicious,” he muses.

Finally, I suck in a deep breath before absently lifting my s’more to my lips again.

I eat it, but I don’t really register it. I’m too lost in Wilder and the promise of his kiss. Not to mention the searing gaze of Hendrix from the couch.

Trying again, Wilder pushes another marshmallow onto his stick and holds it into the flame.

The air around the three of us crackles louder than the fire, anticipation making it hard to breathe.

As I continue eating, I look back at Rix.

His eyes are firmly focused on me, and his sweats clearly show the evidence of how he feels about what he just demanded Wilder do.

I’m stuck with the sudden urge to crawl over and take care of him.

I lick my lips, remembering just how he tasted earlier in the bathroom.

“Later, dirty girl,” Wilder muses, able to accurately read my mind. “Every gentleman knows that the girl is meant to get their pleasure first.”

I swear I get whiplash I turn to look at him so quickly.

His smirk is pure filth, and it makes everything inside me coil tightly with desire.

“Here,” he says, holding out his perfectly toasted s’more for me. “I’m all yours.”