ChristmasInHisHeart (6 page)

He cleared his throat.

Dermot quickly stood and turned, his eyes widened.

Xander couldn’t help but chuckle. “Do you ever feel a sense of deja vu when we’re in the kitchen together?”

“I have a restaurant to run, what can I do for you?” Dermot’s gruff non-answer didn’t deter Xander in the least.

“I just need a couple minutes of your time…” He looked around the kitchen and felt the heat rise in his cheeks. There wasn’t a surface in this room that hadn’t been used as prop in his fantasies about Dermot claiming him. He couldn’t possibly stay here with this sexy man and hope to hide his growing problem in his pants. “Maybe we could get a latte at Prudence’s?”

Dermot blinked at him, but Xander could tell he was tempted.

“Impossible, I’m busy.”

“If you want a few minutes, boss, I can handle things here. You’ve already got a jump on the risotto for tonight and I’m done with the prep work you needed.”

Xander turned and smiled at the man who had disappeared down the hall before returning his attention to the still frowning chef.

He looked around the kitchen, as if weighing the possibilities of leaving for a short time, and Xander secretly crossed his fingers and made deals with whoever would listen. Finally Dermot sighed, a sound probably meant to show defeat but Xander took it as a beautiful sound of victory.

“Only five minutes,” his gruff tone rumbled out.

“We can’t possibly go to Prudence’s and back in five minutes.”

“No, but we can talk upstairs.” Dermot took his apron off and tossed it on one of the numerous stainless steel counters and headed to another door Xander never noticed.

He followed Dermot up a narrow flight of stairs to what he assumed was the storage area, but when he walked through the door, his jaw dropped.

They weren’t in the restaurant’s storage rooms or offices, they were smack dab in someone’s living room.

He looked at Dermot and saw the ease with which the man maneuvered around the furniture. This was
his
living room…his living space.

If he feared the temptation in the kitchen, how the hell could he keep control in Dermot’s apartment?

He couldn’t.

Xander quickly walked across to where Dermot stood, ignoring the surprise that shone on the man’s handsome face, and attacked his mouth.

Well, the first couple seconds might’ve been called an attack, but quickly he eased up and stroked Dermot’s delicious lips. Xander’s tongue begged for entrance as his hands gently freed Dermot’s hair so he could comb his fingers through it while pressing them against the wall for some needed support.

Chapter Six

He had options. Dermot just wished he could remember the second one, because all he was getting right now was, fuck. Fuck the verb, not the exclamation. He should be exclaiming.
That’s right
. Shouting and pushing the greedy, opportunistic bastard away. But instead, here he was, just reveling in Xander’s heat and fiery passion, letting it surround and enflame his own barely checked desire.
Resist, you idiot. Push him away!

He reached to do just that, but when his hands closed on Xander’s broad shoulders and felt the sinew and muscle and bone that gave them their imposing structure, he couldn’t.

The kiss from the Dumpster had teased at his memory in all the days since it had happened, creating a kernel of need that sometimes grew big and fluffy and hard to manage, and sometimes could be wrestled into a tiny pinpoint that could be ignored even if it didn’t go away. That kiss and the feelings it still evoked interfered with his sleep and his work. He’d nearly cut himself just an hour ago while dicing onion for tonight’s risotto because he’d fancied he’d caught a whiff of Xander’s cologne.

Impossible…

Impossible that a single kiss should be so powerful, and impossible that a scent should cling in his nostrils so long. Impossible that he couldn't put Xander out of his mind.
The man is dangerous. Stop this, now.
He let his lips part, and when Xander’s tongue slicked along his lips, he sucked it in, stealing it to tangle with his as his hands squeezed and clung to the man’s shoulders. The hollow pit of need that had become familiar since their Dumpster kiss blossomed again, swelling until it filled his entire being.

Xander’s hands cupped and squeezed his buttocks, and this time Dermot didn’t even think about protesting. He moaned into Xander’s mouth and pressed himself along the man’s lean, hard length.

His cock met firm, hard flesh, and he grunted. Even with the fabric of their clothes between them, he could feel the heat of Xander’s body zinging through him, stirring things up, rearranging his atoms, and prodding his senses.

“Yeah,” Xander squeezed, fingers digging into his buttocks, lifting him, shifting him until he stood on his tiptoes straining into the contact and their cocks were perfectly aligned.

“Oh fuck,” Dermot growled, “that’s good…”

“Lemme…” Xander’s words were muffled by his lips pressing hot moist kisses along Dermot’s jawline. “Can make it better…”

Dermot tipped his head back, let the hot lips blaze a trail down his neck as Xander wedged a hand between them.
How the hell can this get any better? My skin feels tight and fragile, I’m going to explode if…

A strange muted
pop, pop, pop
preceded the metallic
clink-shushing
of his zip sliding down.

“Oh…yes, like that.” Xander’s hand had worked Dermot’s fly open, wiggled and wormed and maneuvered until cloth no longer created a barrier between them. Now he could feel that not so smooth palm directly on him, skin to skin.

“Better?” Xander murmured drunkenly against his ear, gathering them both back into his palm, damp with sweat and the tiny clear beads of fluid that exuded from Dermot’s cock…or Xander’s…or the mingled essence of both. Either way…

“Yeah, better.” His words slurred and heat seared through him, emanating from that touch. Well, that and the electrifying sensation of Xander’s cock pressed tight alongside his as the man stroked them both.

“Yeah,” Xander’s breath hissed, warming Dermot’s skin. His tongue flicked out, moistening the same spot, so the next breath made Dermot shiver. The action translated down along his frame, jerking his cock in Xander’s grip in such a way that the rim of his head caught on Xander’s, a hard, luscious tug popped them both together again, and Dermot threw back his head.

His hips drove forward, pushing into the other man’s fist, breaking his transfixion and stirring him into convulsive, uncontrolled action as his balls tightened, sensation spiraled tighter and tighter, until it seemed Xander’s hand on him stimulated every nerve in his body.

Nevertheless, the first hot splatter of cum on his sensitized skin came as a shock. He’d been so lost in the way it felt, he hadn’t considered the conclusion.

“Oh…” Xander nipped his throat, and Dermot squeaked, but a second jet of seed spurted from him, and that time Xander’s mouth opened hotly to suck at Dermot’s neck, and he was making incredible gurgling noises as he added his own orgasm to the fluids coating their cocks.

Xander kept squeezing and his hand kept jerking them both until Dermot couldn't handle the touch any more.

What the fuck are you doing?
The internal screech disrupted his euphoria and Dermot stilled his shudders and jerked away from Xander. “What tha…I’m ….” Speechless, he stared at a sleepy-eyed, sated Xander who was licking their cream from his hand like a…cat or something.

“That was incredible, but not quite what I wanted to talk to you about.” Xander’s eyelids lifted, and the expression, the warm glow of those brown pools made something in Dermot’s stomach flutter powerfully.

What the fuck?
He rubbed his stomach and grimaced as he came away with a handful of sticky, drying cum. “I have to get back downstairs.” And change…shower…
Fuck. No way could he work all afternoon smelling like…sex.

The very idea pissed him off for some reason, and he snarled at Xander, even as he knew that it was really himself he was mad at. Hadn’t he just decided that he and Xander weren’t compatible? Elves and reindeer and the whole decoration thing? You were either a Christmas person or you weren’t. The two didn’t mix. What would you do? 

Decorate half a house every year? And the one who was terrified of holiday lights could cower in the unlit half?

Right.

Incompatible.

He realized Xander was speaking to him, but shook his head abruptly. “You need to leave now. Thanks to that…little stunt of yours, I need to shower and get back downstairs or there won’t be any dinner special.”

***

Little stunt of mine? Stunt…of mine…

Xander stood outside the bathroom door, listening to the shower. For a man who professed to be in such a hurry, Dermot sure did enjoy nice long showers.

What would happen if Xander let himself in the bathroom and joined the prickly chef under the stream of hot water? Would Dermot lean into him again? Perhaps make those sexy guttural noises that played like a well-tuned violin to Xander’s ears, causing him to want to touch and tease Dermot’s skin even more to hear them over and over again. A particularly decadent catch-22 that Xander could spend a whole weekend wrapped in and still not tire from it or the sweet sound.

He closed his eyes, willing the fantasies to stop.

Xander wasn’t a stupid man, and he wouldn’t begin acting like one now. Dermot made it perfectly clear that he didn’t appreciate the intimacy they just shared.

Xander had a sinking realization that the length of Dermot’s shower could easily be blamed on Xander not vacating the apartment yet. Ouch, that hurt, but he was certain that if he opened and closed the front door loud enough, the running water would turn off and Dermot would exit the bathroom.

A part of Xander wanted to try it out…the other part—the part that could rationalize with the best of them—didn’t want to know. A wise person once said,
don’t go looking for the answers to your questions unless you truly want to know them.

At the time Xander laughed it off, thinking his oldest cousin was just being a smartass again, today he finally understood.

He could absolutely walk to the front door, open it, then slam it closed loud enough for the whole building to hear, and he’d have the answer to his theory shortly after, but…

The way Dermot left him, he still had hope for them. If he pulled that stunt and Dermot walked out thinking the apartment empty…Pandora’s box would be open and all hope lost.

Sometimes it wasn’t best to know. If you knew everything, where would hope live in your life?

Xander had already tucked himself back in, but now he buttoned his jeans, grimacing when the action tightened his pants and made it clear that he also needed a shower. He’d head back to Shawna’s apartment and clean up before unpacking the trimmings for the Christmas tree they’d picked out the other night.

He gave the bathroom door one final longing glance before quietly showing himself out.

Yeah, go to Shawna’s, take a quick shower, and then spread holiday cheer like he didn’t just get off with his fantasy before getting shown the door again. Would this be considered strike two for him?

He inconspicuously slipped out of the restaurant, thankful that no one paid him any mind—especially Macy who was now serving the father and twins from Craft Time. He imagined his shame written all over his face. If anyone did stop to look at him, they’d all know how he jumped the proprietor of their fine eating establishment then was hastily kicked to the curb afterward.

“He didn’t actually kick you out, stop being melodramatic,” Xander chided himself while walking down the street to his car. “‘Leave now’ sounds awfully damn close to kicking me out,” he now argued with himself.

When he noticed a couple of people staring at him funny, he realized he should probably put his phone up to his ear if he was determined to talk to himself out loud. At least that way people wouldn’t be openly aware that he was slowly losing his sanity thanks to one sexy-as-hell man with a penchant for booting his ass out.

On the short drive to the apartment, his mind showed him some very inventive ways that today could’ve gone, and thank god none of them ended with the word leave. God, would the man ever stop invading his thoughts?

Xander’s run of bad luck continued when he opened the front door and Shawna greeted him sitting cross-legged in the middle of the family room floor. Four huge green Rubbermaid storage containers with their red tops thrown off to the side somewhere surrounded her, with various degrees of mess overflowing from them.

“Perfect timing! Ready to get this tree all dressed out in its holiday best?”

Postponing the shower he wanted until later, he silently knelt on the carpet and unwrapped ornaments with her.

She nudged his shoulder and he looked up from his task. A goblet full of a dark red wine waved in front of him, enticing him to partake of its promised calming effects.

“Come on, honey, you obviously need it.” his best friend coaxed him.

Xander relented and accepted her offering, sipping the soothing red wine they’d picked up together from a wine tasting at the local liquor store the past weekend.

“God, this one is my favorite of all the bottles we got,” he mumbled under his breath before taking another, larger taste.

“Which is why I bought two extra bottles while you weren’t looking.” She leaned closer to him and rubbed his shoulder. “So, you ready to talk about it yet? Or should I ply you with another glass?”

Xander blinked, not believing he’d emptied the glass so quickly. “Um…” he stuttered, “talk about what?”

He knew the stupidity of the question, but he was hunting for a few extra minutes so he could figure out what not to say to his best friend.

“Oh, honey.” Her voice sounded so sensitive it almost broke him. “Today is the first day I’ve ever seen you enter a room without your trademark smile. I’m not sure where you went after work—though I can take an educated guess—but if it makes you look like someone just kicked your puppy, I have to think…” She paused as she refilled the glass and took the first sip herself. “Hmm, I was gonna say you shouldn’t go back there, but that wouldn’t be you, now would it?”