How My Neighbor Stole Christmas

For someone who hated Christmas, and hated Christmas a lot,

his strict position on the holiday he conveniently forgot.

Stockings, baubles, bright garlands, and cheer.

Wreaths, bells, and even cranberry beer.

And they’re hanging it all, while their pulses are thrumming.

Because surely tonight, without doubt, they’ll be coming…

Cole’s quietly unwrapping some dishes by the tree while I open a plastic bin marked Christmas Linens. We’ve spent the evening bringing up Christmas decorations from the basement, starting with the tree stand, then setting up the tree. Afterwards, Cole wrapped his arm around me and stared at it for a few minutes.

I asked him if it was okay to turn on some music, and he of course said it was fine. I set the tone with one of my favorite Spotify Christmas playlists. We then wrapped garland around the tree, decorating it while he told me about the different ornaments. How there are misfit ornaments—broken pieces, missing elements—that his dad always hated but that his mom loved, so they would spend the whole season moving them around on the tree, from the front to the back. They divided them up and put half in the front, half in the back for each of them, even though Cole was always on his mom’s side.

The look on his face when he was hanging them nearly made me cry. I could see the love but also the heartache at the same time.

Then I helped him with the star on the top, and when we plugged everything in, well, it was a beautiful sight. After that, we ordered pizza and ate it while staring up at the tree. Now, we’re trying to decorate the rest of the living room. Cole didn’t want to go overboard—he said the living room was fine—but I did tell him he should pull out some of his mom’s holiday dishes so he could enjoy eating off them leading up to Christmas. He thought that was a good idea, kissed me on the forehead, and then went to the basement to find the bin.

When Taran told me earlier today that she needed to take Aunt Cindy to Golden and that it was going to be an overnight trip, my immediate thought was how can I spend the time that they’re gone with Cole?

Even though Taran asked me to hang some lights.

Even though she told me I should be working on my sewing skills for when I have to make a stocking—I pushed that all to the side, because yes, it’s important I represent Aunt Cindy, but helping Cole, being there for him, I think that’s so much more important.

And after last night, when he opened up, I felt like spending more time with him was essential…so he wouldn’t be alone. My heart was still breaking for the eighteen-year-old boy who lost his parents on the cusp of becoming a man. He never deserved to be considered grumpy.

And I had some selfish motivations too. I was with him because I wanted to be with him.

“Do you want me to set out any of these linens?” I ask as I sift through doilies and table runners.

“There’s one in particular that my mom would put on the coffee table,” he says as he unwraps a green candy dish and smiles down at it.

This coming from the man who wasn’t into anything Christmas…a candy dish is making him smile.

“What does it look like?”

He walks over to me and helps look through the linens. “It was red and had reindeer along the border, sort of looks like—ah, here it is.” He hands me the candy dish, and I hold it as he pulls out the runner. “Looks like a Christmas sweater.”

“Oh, yeah.”Content © NôvelDrama.Org.

I take in the red-and-white runner that is the perfect size for a coffee table. With cross-stitched images of holly leaves, trees, and reindeer, it really does look like it belongs on a Christmas sweater.

“I love it,” I say as he closes up the linens bin and then carefully sets the runner on the coffee table. “Wait, wasn’t the tree skirt in there as well?”

“Shit, you’re right.” He checks through the bin again, and I set the candy dish on the coffee table.

“You need some peppermints for your candy dish, those puffy pastel ones.”

“Those are so good—they’d be gone in a day.”

He pulls out a quilted tree skirt made of vintage fabric in shades of red, green, and white. Tiny candy canes, toy trains, presents, and Santas are strewn across the fabric, and it’s truly the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.

It reminds me of something Aunt Cindy would have.

All of his Christmas decorations do, which just makes me feel more at home, more in the spirit.

“I’m so stupid,” I say, surprising him.

He turns to eye me. “Uh, care to explain that comment? Because I don’t agree.”

“I should have come back way sooner, not just because of you but because of the joy I get during this time. I was so bitter, so upset with what happened with Mrs. Fiskers and how I was treated after, that I shut down and I spent my Christmases away from the one true thing that brought me joy during this season. And going through these decorations with you, helping with the tree, it’s just a reminder of everything I’ve been missing out on.”

His expression softens as he comes up to me and pulls me into his chest. I wrap my arms around his waist and press my cheek against the soft fabric of his shirt.

“I know what you mean. Going through all of this, I thought it would hurt more. I thought that it would be far too painful, but I don’t know, it just makes me feel closer to them. Like I’m honoring them by putting out these decorations and letting my memories fly.”

“You are honoring them for sure,” I say, giving him a squeeze before letting go. “Okay, is this all you wanted to do?”

“It is,” he says. “I’ll stack this box with the rest of the ones by the stairs, and I can take them down tomorrow.”

“Are you sure?” I ask. “I can help you.”

He shakes his head. “No, that’s okay, I’d rather spend time with you. Plus…I have dessert.”

“You have dessert?” I ask, surprised.

“Yup. I got it earlier today in the hopes of luring you outside to sit on the porch with me, but since you’re already here, we can have it in front of the fireplace.”

“You wouldn’t have to lure me here with dessert,” I say as he carries the last bin over to the stairs.

“Are you saying that I’m prize enough?”

I chuckle. “I don’t want to, because I think it might go to your head, but yes…you are prize enough, Cole.”

He offers me the sweetest grin before taking my hand and bringing me back to the kitchen. He takes two of the crystal-cut mugs that we unpacked, rinses them in the sink, and then dries them off with a towel.

“How can I help?”

“Stand there and look pretty.”

“Not sure how productive that is,” I say. “But if I must.” I sigh and bat my eyelashes at him dramatically.

He chuckles. “Not sure I like how good you are at that.”

“You’re the one who wanted this.”

He goes to the fridge where he pulls out a beer bottle and holds it up. “Uh, I have cranberry beer or eggnog.”

“Eggnog,” I answer.

“Eggnog it is,” he replies as he grabs the carton and pours some into two cups.

“Is this your Eggnog Wars recipe?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “No, just regular. Sorry.”

“That’s fine, regular works.”

“I still think I should have won that competition. The only reason you won was because you used decrepit old Cindy to your advantage.”

“Oooo, I’m going to tell her you called her that,” I tease.

“Go ahead. While you’re at it, tell her you made out with me last night as well and that our tongues touched.”

I don’t know why that makes me snort, but it does. “Oh my God, I would never say that to her.”

“Because you’re ashamed of me?” he asks playfully.

“No,” I drag out. “Because I don’t say things to her like ‘my tongue touched a man’s tongue.’ I don’t even think she knows I’ve had sex. Fairly sure she still believes in her heart of hearts that I’m a buttoned-up virgin.”

“Even after not seeing you for ten years, I could tell you weren’t a buttoned-up virgin.”

“Are you saying I’m giving off ho-ho-hoe vibes?”

“I mean…you did make out with the enemy under the mistletoe.”

I point my finger at him. “That was a peck, and I didn’t have a choice.”

“Eh, I think it was more than a peck.”

“Because you made it more than a peck. You were the one who opened your mouth.”

“I see it differently,” he replies as he moves to the pantry and pulls out a cookie tin. Not just any cookie tin, but the cookie tin. The cookie tin that Baubles and Wrappings is known for carrying. The cookie tin that I used to secretly buy for myself and hide under my pillow, swearing to Taran that I had no clue what she was talking about when she saw crumbs all over my bed.

“Umm, we’re getting back to the kiss in a second. Please tell me there are cookies in that tin and it’s not some secret stash of sewing materials.”

He chuckles. “I wouldn’t trick you like that.” Then he pops open the tin, revealing the most delicious cookies, shortbread filled with jam and topped with sugar crystals.

I press my hand to my chest. “You amazing, amazing man.”

He winks at me and shuts the lid. “That’s the kind of praise I like to hear. Now, tell me about this kiss again and how you think I was the one who made it more than a peck.”

I pick up the cups of eggnog and follow him out to the living room. He sets the cookies on the coffee table and then spreads a blanket on the floor. I join him and hand him one of the cups as we sit on the floor in front of the fireplace.

“You made it more of a peck because you opened your mouth, which is classified as deepening the kiss.”

“According to whom?” he asks.

“Uh, everyone.”

“Great defense.” He laughs. “Well, I opened my mouth because you moaned.”

“Oh my God, I did not moan!” I scoot my legs underneath me and lean on one hand as I stare at the flames bouncing off his carved face.

“You did. People were talking about it the next day. The moan heard around the town.”

“Stop,” I say on a laugh. “That did not happen.”

“No, it didn’t. Maybe I imagined it and that’s why I opened my mouth.”

“Ah-ha, so you admit that you opened your mouth.”

“I mean…yeah, but you were the one who climbed on my lap last night. What I did was for show, what you did was for…well…your satisfaction.”

“Please, that kiss under the mistletoe was not just for show or else you wouldn’t have opened your mouth. And I climbed on your lap last night because you didn’t kiss me in the truck after we came home from Clayton.”

He opens the tin of cookies and sets them between us. We both reach for a cookie at the same time, and he playfully swats my hand away.

“Hey!”

He chuckles and hands me one.

After he takes a bite, he says, “In all honesty, I was nervous in the truck, sort of reeling after what happened, and stunned that, well…we were getting along. I was also hoping you wanted me to kiss you, but it felt like you blew me off, so…yeah.”

“That was self-preservation,” I say. “I was nervous about my feelings and was waiting for any indication from you that maybe you wanted more. I didn’t get one, so I just kind of brushed everything off as casual.”

“I see,” he says, sticking the rest of the cookie in his mouth. Honestly, I’m surprised he took a bite of it in the first place. I would have expected him to just pop the whole thing in his mouth. Maybe he likes to savor them like I do. “And what kind of sign were you looking for?”

I shrug. “You know, some body language. Some leaning in, anything to let me know that you weren’t disgusted by me.”

“Jesus,” he mutters. “I did not give off disgusted vibes.”

I smirk at him. “You didn’t, but still there wasn’t much of a come-hither vibe either.”

“You weren’t giving off that vibe either, not until last night when you sat on my lap.”

“Well, someone had to take action around here,” I reply.

“What about me opening my mouth under the mistletoe?”

“Oh, so now you want to take credit for moving things along for us?”

He chuckles. “When the timing is right, yeah, I do.”

“Absurd.”

Cole

The mood is right; the fire is blazing.

Will he take her lips like he’s been desperately craving?

Cole, Connor, Snow Daddy, which man will he be?

Guess we should sit back and just wait and see.

“That was an unnecessary addition in the middle of this scene.”

Narrator: Not sure you should be critiquing me when I’ve set the mood for you. I have no problem giving you a wonky willy and sending you on your way.

“I’m just saying the ‘Cole, Connor, Snow Daddy’ thing makes no sense. I don’t see how they differ.”

Narrator: Cole is just regular you. Connor is the forgotten man. And Snow Daddy is the one with the pelvic thrust that made her “wetter and wetter.” Do you not remember chapter twelve?

“I’m still trying to figure out where the hell you’re coming from.”

Narrator: It will be to your benefit to mind your own business. Now, I believe I was setting the mood…

The logs on the fire have turned to embers, the lights from the Christmas tree are just dim enough to cast a hazy glow across the living room, and the scent of freshly chopped pine fills the air.

Storee has leaned into me as we stare at the embers, and I feel a sense of immense comfort. If you would have said a couple of weeks ago that I’d find comfort in decorating for Christmas, I would have said you were insane. But now that I’ve put some things out, I feel…at home.

Funny to say, since this is my home, but it finally all feels right. And yes, I only decorated the living room, and minimally at that, because baby steps are important, but it has created a sense of joy, of peace, like this weight I’ve been carrying around has finally been lifted and I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. It really comes down to the fact that Storee is here. Once one of my childhood friends, back at just the right time. And perhaps only for a season. Literally.

“So, what’s your favorite Lovemark movie?” I ask her.

“Tough question.” She shifts, and I wrap my arm around her, resting my palm on her hip. “Hmm, there are so many good ones, and some really terrible ones.” I chuckle. “And some okay ones, but if I have to pick, there’s a series of movies that was filmed in this town called Port Snow, up in Maine. They revolved around some of the real-life love stories in town. The casting was great, and the storylines were wonderful. And because I was editing the series, I was lucky enough to fly out there at one point when they were filming the third movie in the series and got to experience the town itself. I went to this fudge shop called the Lobster Landing and, well…it was really nice.”

“Nicer than here?” I ask.

“Different vibe,” she replies. “Port Snow is a coastal town, whereas this is a mountain town that spends every day living in Santa’s underpants.”

“Santa’s underpants?” I laugh out loud. “Well, fuck, if we were living in Bob Krampus’s tighty-whities, you can bet your pretty face I would not still be living here.”

“You wouldn’t?” she asks. “You wouldn’t want to jingle his bells?”

“Jesus, no!” I shout, making her laugh. “I honestly feel sick to my stomach even thinking about it.”

“Poor Bob Krampus.”

I lift away from her and look her in the eye. “Poor Bob Krampus? No, poor us. Who knows what kind of sweating, chafing, and moisture collecting happens down there.”

“Ew, don’t say ‘moisture collecting.’”

“You’re the one who brought it up. You didn’t have to say ‘Santa’s underpants.’”

“It was the only thing I could think of.”

“Disturbing,” I say as I decide to rest on the carpet and give my back a rest. To my surprise, she leans across my stomach and stares down at me. “What do you think you’re doing?” I ask her.

“Getting comfortable,” she replies and then smoothes her hand up my chest.

“Seems like you enjoy getting comfortable and using my body for that.”

“Trust me, Cole, if I were using your body, you would know.”

I chuckle and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. I stare up at her and smile. “Why didn’t we cross this line before?”

“What line?”

“This intimate one. I feel like whenever you’d visit, we’d just have a conversation here and there, one night out on the porch. It wasn’t ever anything more than that.”

“I don’t know,” she says. “Maybe because at the time that’s all it could ever be.”

“And what do you think it is now?” I ask as her hand floats up to the buttons on my flannel shirt. She runs circles around them as she meets my eyes.

“I’m not sure, but I’m not scared to find out.”

“No?” I ask as she starts to unbutton my shirt.

She shakes her head. “No.”

And then, just like the night before, she straddles my lap as she finishes unbuttoning my shirt, revealing my white undershirt. She pouts in disappointment, so I sit up and remove the flannel, and then pull the shirt up and over my head.

Her eyes feast.

They wander, trailing over my pecs and my short, trimmed chest hair, across my ribs and down to my abs.

Her teeth pull over her bottom lip as she brings her hands to my stomach and slides them up to my chest while she lowers her body onto mine. She presses light kisses along my collarbone, up my neck, across my jaw, and when she reaches my mouth, she hovers.

Not sure if she’s waiting for a sign—hell, my shirt is already off—but not wanting her to second-guess anything, I slide my hand to the back of her head and close that last inch between us, letting her mouth press against mine.

And it’s fucking heaven.

It was heaven under the mistletoe.

It was heaven out on the porch.

And it’s heaven now.

I love her lips, her mouth…her tongue.

I love the way she tastes. The way she holds me. The way she lightly gasps whenever our tongues touch.

It’s addicting and everything I ever envisioned about kissing her.

She wiggles against me, groaning as she attempts to get even closer. So I smooth a hand down her back and over the curve of her ass, letting the feel of her round rear imprint itself on my palm.

Full.

Thick.

Something I can get very used to gripping.

When I squeeze her, she gasps into my mouth and then lifts up. Her hungry eyes meet mine as she brings both of her hands to the hem of her long-sleeved shirt and then pulls it up and over her body, leaving her in a red bra, her round breasts nearly on full display.

My mouth waters, and before I can even take my time soaking her in, she lies back down on my chest, her mouth covering mine. Immediately, her hands find my hair, where they sift and pull while her hips grind against mine, creating a delicious friction.

Taking the lead, she presses our tongues together, and I get lost in the feel of her, in the way she’s controlling my mouth. I’m lost in her grasp, in her moans.

In the roll of her hips.

In the warmth of the fire next to us, elevating the heat that’s building between us.

And as her hands start to roam over my pecs, her fingernails dragging across my nipples and then down my stomach, a hot ache grows within me, an ache I haven’t felt in a really long time.

Aware.

Hard.

Wanting desperately for so much more, I reach behind her and let my hand wander over the clasp of her bra. I hover for a moment, giving her a second to stop me, and when she doesn’t, I snap the clasp open and the fabric loosens, the straps falling down her arms.

Her mouth parts from mine for a moment, and then she slowly lifts up and lets her bra fall down her arms completely, revealing her breasts.

Fuck.

Me.

I wet my lips as I take her in.

Round globes with dusty-pink nipples, pert and hard, ready for my fingers. Jesus Christ.

“You’re fucking beautiful, Storee,” I say as I guide her onto her back and lie on top of her, wanting to take charge now.

Needing to.

Keeping my weight off her but rather letting myself hover over her as I lower my head to her neck, I press light kisses along her sensitive skin, focusing just below her ear where I feel goose bumps spread across her skin, then to her shoulder, across her collarbone and then lower until I reach her breast. I nip at the supple flesh, dragging my beard across her nipple and loving the way her back arches when I do.

“Yes, Cole,” she says quietly while I drag my tongue over her breast and around her nipple, never directly on the nub. “Please,” she says as her hips seek friction.

But I don’t give her what she wants, not yet. Instead, I move down her stomach with my lips, my tongue…my teeth, nipping and kissing until I reach her pants. I glance up at her and when she wets her lips with the tip of her tongue, I know she’s giving me the okay. So I pull on her leggings, dragging them all the way off her, along with her socks, leaving her in only her thong.

I run my hands back up her legs, across her thighs and under the thin strap around her waistline, letting my thumbs drag over her pubic bone, while I bring my mouth back to her stomach. She writhes beneath me, equally loving and hating the torture and letting me know with the push and pull of her hands. Keeping her at bay, I play with her skin, running my tongue around her belly button, close to the waistline of her thong, and then back around her belly button.

Her legs try to spread beneath me, but I hold her in place.

She tries to encourage me to move farther south, but I remain where I am, never pushing her thong all the way down her legs—just teasing.

Bringing her to the point of begging as her chest heaves and her hands tug on my hair.

I fucking love it.

I continue to run circles over her skin with my tongue, and when I feel like she’s primed and ready, I bring my mouth back up to her breasts where I start to suck.

But not for long because her hands fall to the waistband of my pants, unbuttoning them and using her feet to push them down my legs. I take a second to remove them along with my socks and then kneel in front of her. Her eyes immediately fall to the bulge in my briefs. Her tongue peeks out, her legs spread, giving me the go-ahead.

Fuck.

I lower back down to her, but this time, I press the ridge of my cock right between her legs.

“Yes,” she cries out, and then to my surprise, she pushes at my chest to flip me to my back. I allow her to take charge for a moment as she glides her center right over my bulge. “Fuck, you’re huge.”

Stupid pride surges through me as I grip her breasts in my palms, lightly squeezing as she moves over me, using me to seek out her own pleasure.

And she does.

She rolls her hips.

She undulates on top of me.

She grinds against my cock for her personal need, and I can’t get enough of it.

Of how her hands explore her own body, running over her chest, through her hair.

How her mouth opens in shock with every pass of her hips.

And how her beautiful tits bounce along with her movements.

“Mm, this feels too good,” she says as her head bows and her hips move faster.

So fucking good.

Like a goddamn dream.

I swipe my thumbs over her nipples, and I’m gifted a pure, unadulterated reaction as she tilts her head back, her mouth parting as she continues to ride me from above.

“You’re so fucking hot,” I say as the friction builds between us.

Her teeth pull on her lip.

Her fingers dig into my skin.

Her hips rock uncontrollably over my length.

“I…fuck…Cole. This…this…” The muscles in her neck strain, her mouth falls open, silence capturing her before a long rumble of a groan falls past her lips. “Oh fuck, oh God, Cole…I…”

Her head falls forward, her fingers dig into my skin, and she cries out my name as she reaches her apex, her hips flying over my ridge as she comes.

And it’s so goddamn sexy.

It’s perfect.

Her tits bouncing.

Her hips building up my own orgasm.

Her groans of pleasure. It’s more than I can bear.

So much so that when she’s falling back down to earth, I flip her to her back again and hover above her. I pull down my briefs, straddle her chest and then release myself, pumping my cock as I stare at her.

Cheeks flushed.

Eyes heady.

Skin red and sweaty.

Jesus fuck, she’s so hot.

And this tension between us, this buildup, it’s all coming to a crashing head as I grip my cock, sliding my hand over my precum and using it to lube my palm.

I tug and pull, keeping my eyes on her the entire time, pleasure racing up my spine.

A white-hot numbness erupts down my legs.

I’m right fucking there.

It’s never been this fast before.

Ever.

“Shit,” I mutter as my stomach starts to clench, my balls tightening. “Storee, open your mouth.” She looks up at me seductively as she opens her mouth, and I lower my cock just as I start to bust all over her tongue. “Fuck,” I groan as I watch beads of cum decorate her mouth, and when I’m done…she swallows, and I fall to the floor at her side.

I drape my arm over my face and breathe heavily as I try to bring my body back down from the high. That was…fuck, that was incredible, and I wasn’t even inside of her.

I feel her hand trail up and down my stomach before she presses soft kisses to my shoulder. When I finally look up at her, I’m met with her gorgeous smile.

“Okay, Cole…that was hot and unexpected.”

I chuckle and then rub my eyes. “No, it was fucking amazing.” I lift up on my elbow and reach around the back of her neck, pulling her close. I lightly kiss her on the lips and then ask, “Will you spend the night?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”