“Let me grab some champagne.”
He leaves me standing by the tree and I turn toward it, lightly touching the branches. The delicate ornaments hanging there. They’re all white and some look made of spun glass. Delicate snowflakes and trees. Thin glass balls and twisted candy canes.
“Here you go.” Crew hands me a champagne glass full of golden, bubbly liquid while keeping one for himself. The music shuts off and the TV is turned on, one of those New Year’s Eve countdown shows on. “We’ve got three minutes till midnight.”
“Getting closer.” Nerves fizz in my stomach, and for once on this night, they feel good. They feel right. This new year is going to be one full of endless possibilities. Big changes. An exciting future.
People start passing out hats and noise makers, and I take one, blowing it in Crew’s face. He grimaces, snatching it out of my hand.
“What color are you wearing tonight?” He’s talking about my lips.
“Sensible is the name.” I smile, desperate to take a sip of my champagne but wanting to wait for it to hit midnight first. “You like?”
“I love all the colors on your lips so far. Best gift I could’ve ever given you—and myself.”
“You never did tell me how the salesperson reacted when you made your request,” I tease him.
“She thought I was joking.” He chuckles. “I then launched into a long explanation about the art and the story behind it, and when I was finished, she said she would love to help me.” His gaze finds mine. “She told me I must really love this girl and I told her yeah. Actually, I do.”
My heart is overflowing with emotion at what he just said. The way he’s looking at me. The crowd gathers together around the TV, some of them standing close to us, and Malcolm has a noise maker, which he blows at us, making me laugh.
“The countdown is almost on!” someone announces.
“Less than a minute,” Crew whispers, and I realize I don’t want to watch it on TV when we could look out the window and witness part of the actual countdown happen outside. We’ll be able to see fireworks at least.
“Let’s look out at the city,” I suggest, and we both turn to stare out the window, our backs to everyone.
He’s watching me. And I’m watching him. When everyone else starts to count down, he does too, his voice soft.
Just for me.
“Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six.”
I join him.
“Five. Four. Three. Two. One.”
“Happy New Year, Birdy.” His face is so close, his lips brush mine when he speaks.
“Happy New Year,” I murmur just before I kiss him.
Despite the yelling and shouting from our party goers, I also can hear the dull explosions of fireworks shooting into the air. The roar of people welcoming the new year down on the streets. I pull away, to watch the fireworks. Red and white blasts of color fill the sky, and Crew slips his arm around my shoulders, tucking me into him, his glass clinking next to mine.
“To the new year,” he says.
“To the new year,” I repeat before we both take a drink.
The champagne fizzes in my throat and I take another sip, eventually draining the glass. Crew does the same, taking my glass from me and setting them on a nearby table before he grabs my hand and leads me back to his bedroom.
We forget about everyone else. We’re only focused on each other.
It’s dark inside, the curtains open to let in the light from the skyscrapers, and when he pulls me to him, I go willingly. A soft moan leaves me when he races his hands up and down my sides, his fingers gathering the fabric of my dress.
“I can’t get enough of you,” he says just before his mouth is on mine and I open to him completely, my tongue darting out to meet his. The kiss is decadent. His mouth tastes of champagne and when his hands slip beneath the hem of my dress to land on my bare backside, I shiver.
He goes completely still. “You don’t have panties on.”
“I don’t have a bra on either,” I tell him.
The hungry gleam in his eyes sends heat rushing between my legs and he quickly turns me around so my back is to him. He drifts his fingers across my exposed skin before tugging on the zipper. Pulling it down until the dress becomes loose on my body, falling forward. He pushes it off of me with impatient hands until it’s a heap around my feet and I kick it away, about to slip off my gold stiletto sandals when he stops me, his hand resting on my naked hip.
“Keep them on,” he practically growls.
I do as he asks, and when he turns me to face him once more, our mouths meet hungrily, his hands seemingly everywhere at once. On my waist, my hips. My breasts. My nipples. He cups me between my thighs, his fingers teasing, dipping inside, and I relax my thigh muscles as much as I can, wanting more.