He bends and kisses me, deep and slow. I lean into it on a sigh as he nudges my mouth open and his tongue grazes mine.
“Keep it,” he says between kisses. “You wearing it is not the problem.”
I blink up at him, a little dazed by those kisses. “Then what is the problem?”
A husky laugh leaves him as he wraps me in his arms. “The problem is that I’m thinking about you in just that shirt, lifting it while my hands wander up your thighs straight to where I want, then tearing it off of you and teasing you with my mouth and hands until you’re begging me to make you come.”
My eyes widen. “Me wearing your shirt inspired all of that?”
He sighs, then he kisses me softly, closemouthed and sweet. “It doesn’t take much these days to inspire deeply erotic thoughts about you.”
I bite my lip. Leaning closer, I wrap my arms around his neck.
“What kind of erotic thoughts?” I ask, pressing up on my toes, taking his lip between my teeth and tugging softly.
On a growl, he pulls himself away, putting distance between our bodies except for his forehead, which he presses to mine. “Even I have limits, and telling you what I’ve been fantasizing about before we have to leave for Sunday dinner is it. Now, go on, get your jacket and bag so we can leave. We’ll be late if we don’t head out now, and we both know how Maureen feels about that.”
I grab his hand as he turns toward my room. “What are you doing?”
He arches an eyebrow and glances over his shoulder. “I was going to grab your laundry for you.”
I almost laugh. He thinks he could just walk in and pick up a hamper of dirty clothes. “Why were you going to get my laundry?”
“To bring it to your parents’，” he says, as if this is obvious and entirely logical. “You could get it done tonight while you’re there, couldn’t you?”
“Christopher. You’re not getting my laundry.”
“Suit yourself. Just pack it all in a bag, and I’ll carry it for you.”
“I don’t want to make us late—”
He starts toward my room again.
“Fine!” I yell, darting past him and slipping through a crack in the door. “I’ll be ready in five minutes!”
* * *
—
Christopher sits beside me at my parents’ dining table. He’s kept his hands to himself, but below the table, his knee rubs against my thigh, making me bite my lip as I stare into the remnants of the crème br?lée we had for dessert.
“Kate,” Dad says. “You said you had a project you started this week, wasn’t that right? Have any photos to share?”
Bea narrows her eyes across the table from me. “I already asked. She’s been so secretive about them.”
“I don’t like to show them until they’re edited,” I explain.
“You’ve been editing all day,” Christopher says. “Come on, Katydid.”
Mom’s expression perks up as she registers his use of that childhood endearment. I freeze, realizing his slip, but Christopher doesn’t seem to notice, or maybe he does but he simply doesn’t care. He just sips his coffee and watches me as I dart out of my seat and dig around my bag for my phone, then come back to the table, opening up the folder where I store my projects’ photos.
He leans in as I plop down in my chair, bathing me in the familiar, enticing scent and warmth of his skin. “That’s beautiful,” he says, pointing toward the photo that I’ve pulled up. “This is from the nonprofit—”
“For girls and gender-nonconforming kids.” I nod. Then I offer my phone to my dad first, telling everyone at the table, “I went in at the beginning of the week and took photos for this nonprofit that focuses on emotional support and self-expression. These were taken while they ran their storytelling workshop.”
“Beautiful, Katie-bird,” Dad says proudly, beaming up at me, then handing the phone to Bea. “You have such a gift.”
“KitKat!” Bea says, scrolling through the album and leaning toward Jamie so he can see them, too. “These are stunning.”
“Thank you. I’m happy with those. Now I just have about fifty more to edit and get in similar shape tonight.”
“Do you have to do them tonight?” Christopher turns more fully my way, a concerned frown on his face as he stretches his arm across the back of my chair. “Why don’t you take a break and tackle the rest tomorrow?”
“Well, in theory, that would be lovely, except I told them I’d get the photos finalized before Christmas, and with all the hours I’ll be working this week at the Edgy Envelope, I should try to get more done tonight.”