Mistletoe Madness: A Sexy Christmas Novella Read online

  Mistletoe Madness

  A Sexy Christmas Novella

  Rebecca Norinne

  To everyone who needs a little holiday magic to spice up their life

  Contents

  About This Book

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

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  Also by Rebecca Norinne

  About The Author

  About This Book

  There are three things you need to know about Nick Clauson: (1) he’s a genius; (2) he’s the best damn roommate a girl could ever have; and (3) he’s hung like a reindeer.

  I found this out when I accidentally walked in on him beating his not-so-little drummer boy, and now I can’t get the image out of my head.

  So when he corners me under the mistletoe, suddenly all of my dreams are coming true. Night after night, we do things that definitely put us on Santa’s naughty list.

  But what happens when the snow melts and all that Christmas magic wears off? Will Nick and I be able to keep our holiday love alive?

  1

  “I thought you said you were getting a little tree.” My roommate Nick Clauson leaned against the door jamb eyeing the eight-foot-tall Douglas Fir I’d dragged up the stairs of the front porch and into our house earlier that morning.

  Carefully, I wound another strand of lights through its boughs until I reached the top. “True, it’s a bit bigger than I intended, but I didn’t pick this tree. It picked me.”

  He snorted and pushed off the wall, stepping over more lights, garland, and scattered boxes of ornaments until he was standing next to me, Our shoulders nearly touching, he glanced up at the Moravian star I’d barely managed to affix to the tree’s uppermost limb for a few seconds before flicking his blue-eyed gaze back to me. “You promised, Mikayla.”

  “I did no such thing.” I turned away before he could see the effect his nearness had on me. To say that my feelings for him were complicated would be a massive understatement. “You told me not to go overboard, and I didn’t.”

  He gestured toward the tree. “And how is this not going overboard?”

  “I wanted the ten foot one.”

  He let out a small huff of laughter, and a beat a silence passed between us before he sighed and shook his head. He turned to leave the room, and when he reached the doorway he paused. “It can stay.”

  “Thank you,” I whispered, my head dropping forward as I listened to the sounds of his retreating footsteps and wondering if this would ever get less awkward. I wanted nothing more than to go back to the way things were before The Night That Changed Everything.

  Six months ago, when I’d answered an ad on Craigslist for a room in a funky little Victorian house on the outskirts the historic district, I never expected to meet someone I would like, much less care about. All I’d been looking for was a reasonably clean, halfway quiet place to land after finding my no-good, cheating fiancé in bed with another woman.

  Since moving in, Nick and I had bonded over our mutual love of craft beer, medical dramas, and take-out Thai food. If his chiseled jaw, washboard abs, and devil-may-care grin frequently drove me to distraction, I pretended not to notice. Frankly, I pretended not to notice a lot of things about my sexy roommate—like the fact that I sometimes woke up in the middle of the night with his name on my lips as my body shuddered beneath the covers.

  But then The Night That Changed Everything happened, and now I was done pretending.

  But let me back up for a minute.

  That night, I’d been sitting up in bed, finishing a report that was due to my boss in the morning, my back propped against the wall that separated our bedrooms, when I heard an unfamiliar noise coming from the other side.

  “Nick?” I called out, hoping like hell it was him in there and not some serial killer. We’d also taken to watching repeats of network TV crime dramas that made us literally laugh out loud with how stereotypical most of the detectives were.

  When he didn’t answer, I set my computer to the side and tiptoed cautiously down the hall. You would have thought all those episodes of Blue Bloods would have given me a stronger sense of self-preservation in the face of danger, but you would have been wrong. When I reached his door, I heard the noise again. Instead of texting him to find out if he was okay, I grabbed ahold of the door knob and took a deep breath for courage. That was when I heard another noise, and this time, there was no mistaking it was definitely Nick in there.

  And he sounded like he was in pain.

  Without giving it another thought, I twisted the knob and stepped inside—and stopped dead in my tracks.

  Because there he was, laying on top of the covers, his earbuds concealing the sound of whatever he was watching on the iPad that was propped on his naked chest. I had a pretty good idea, though, of what was on his screen given the fist locked around his erect cock and the full bottom lip that was rolled between his teeth in concentration.

  Instead of backing out the way I’d come like I should have, I stayed rooted to his carpet, my limbs tingling with arousal, as his eyes fell closed. On the next upward stroke of his hand, he let out a deep, guttural groan I recognized as the sound that had brought me there in the first place. Much to my ever-loving shame, for the next few seconds I stared, transfixed, as my roommate fucked his own hand, all the while remaining completely oblivious to my presence.

  Eventually, the sight of his hips bucking up off the mattress broke me out of my lust-filled stupor, and before he could open his eyes to find me gawking at him like some twisted peeping tom, I scurried away in shame. When I reached my room, I launched myself onto my bed with my hand clamped over my mouth to hold in my fit of hysterics. That was when I heard another series of groans and grunts coming at me through the paper-thin walls—these ones louder, more feral sounding. When he came with a muffled shout a few seconds later, I squeezed my thighs together as his pleasure triggered my own.

  That had been a few weeks ago, and I could barely look him in the eye when we were home together. And rather than watching TV or sharing a bottle of beer or two like we used to do, I frequently snuck off to my room instead, citing a heavy workload and early morning meetings.

  Because ever since that night—ever since he made me come with nothing more than the sound of his own muffled pleasure reaching me through the drywall that separated us—I’ve started wondering things about Nick that I have no business wondering. Everything that I’ve valued these past six months about our friendship has been amplified, and all the characteristics that made him such a great roommate now stood out as qualities I’d look for in a potential boyfriend.

  And the idea of him ever finding out how I felt was laughable. There was a reason I never participated in his weekly poker nights despite being relatively good at cards. I wore my heart on my sleeve and my emotions in my eyes. In fact, my complete lack of a poker face and total inability to lie was something Nick had often said he adored about me. I couldn’t let it be our undoing.

  Unfortunately, he’d quickly figured out that I was avoiding him. He’d tried not to let his frustrations show, but as well as he knew me, I knew him, too. Every day, he wanted to ask what he did wrong, and how he can fix it so that things went back to normal. But nothing would ever be normal again. I’d fallen in lust with my roommate, and I didn’t see myself falling out of it anytime soon.

  2

  I woke with a startled gasp, my chest rising and falling with labored breaths as I fought to calm my rapidly beating heart. I didn’t know why I was jolted awake so su
ddenly, but I was somewhat pissed about it since I’d been dreaming about my boss getting fired for her continued ineptitude. Since that wasn’t likely to happen anytime soon in reality, I savored it when it happened in my dreams.

  I closed my eyes and tried to recapture the satisfaction I’d felt a few minutes before when I hear a drawer sliding open and then closing shut. A deep chuckle and then … what can only be described as the sounds of fucking. Moaning, grunting, sighing, breathing.

  I laid stock still on my bed, afraid to so much as breathe lest Nick know I was listening from the other side of our wall. I didn’t know which of the lanky blondes he worked with he’d brought home from the holiday office party tonight, but I hated her.

  More than that, I wanted to be her.

  And since I couldn’t ...

  Slowly, I skated my fingers over my torso, raising goosebumps in their wake, while imagining it was Nick who was touching me so gently. Unable to stop myself—not wanting to stop—my hand continued its exploration as the sounds from his room grew louder and more pronounced. When his partner shouted her praise of Jesus and all the saints, I slipped my fingers under the elastic waistband of my sleep shorts and headed toward the promised land. His headboard banged against the wall, and my fingers dipped lower.

  Was it twisted that I was getting off to the sounds of my roommate fucking one of his co-workers? Yes. Did I care? Not particularly. I would regret it later, I knew, but there was nothing I needed more right now than to come. It had been weeks since I’d last taken matters into my own hands, so to speak, and if I didn’t get off now, it might be another couple of weeks before I would get another opportunity. Ever since I’d learned just how clearly sound traveled in this place, I’d become paranoid about what he might have heard before now, and I wasn’t taking any chances of a repeat of The Night That Changed Everything happening to me.

  My toes curled when I circled my clit, and my breathing hitched as he groaned into the night. My hips bucked off the bed as I pushed myself higher and higher, my heels digging into the mattress as I matched the rhythm of his headboard bouncing against our shared wall. “Yes,” I heard him say as the same word slipped quietly from between my lips.

  “Oh god,” I whispered, my fingers working faster, harder. “Fuck, yes. Just like that.”

  The springs of his mattress squeaked as he drew nearer to orgasm, and then they went quiet altogether. The silence was briefly interrupted by the sound of him swearing and then groaning long and low as he came.

  A second later, my thighs trembled, my toes pointed, and I followed him over the cliff.

  For several minutes I lay there panting in the afterglow, my body feeling alternately sated and yet still needing more. As I came down from my endorphin high, all my good feelings evaporated. As predicted, my skin prickled with shame over what I’d just done. That was twice now I’d come to the sounds of Nick’s orgasm. The first time had been an honest mistake, but I’d known exactly what I was doing just now, but had proceeded to do it anyway. And while he was with someone else, too! How low could one woman possibly go?

  I flung myself out of bed and grabbed my robe from the hook on the back of my door, afraid I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from finding out.

  * * *

  “Oh! Good morning,” I yelped, surprised to see Nick standing in the doorway to our kitchen wearing nothing but a pair of ratty flannel sleep pants. Briefly, I let my eyes trail over the defined ridges and valleys of his abs before tearing my gaze away. This was exactly what I’d hoped to avoid by getting out of bed at the ass crack of dawn.

  I didn’t have to be in the office until eight, but since I’d been up all night tossing and turning anyhow, I’d decided to start my day a couple of hours early. While I’d be running on fumes come lunchtime, one upside to such an early morning was that I probably wouldn’t have to exchange pleasantries with Nick and his slumber party pal over coffee.

  At least that’s what I’d been counting on.

  He scratched the stubble lining his jaw and glanced around the kitchen in a sleepy daze. “What time is it?” he croaked, hoisting himself onto one of the galvanized steel and leather stools at our kitchen island.

  “Five o’clock.”

  His gaze shot to mine. “What the fuck? You’re never up this early.”

  I set the coffee pot back on its warmer and stood at the sink staring out the window at the darkened alley behind our house so he couldn’t see the guilt on my face. “I couldn’t sleep.”

  “Nightmares again?” I heard him ask from behind me as the stool’s legs scraped over the slate floor.

  When I’d first moved in with Nick, I’d woken up a few times in the middle of the night shouting obscenities as my subconscious relived the moment I learned my fiancé was a lying, cheating bastard. They weren’t nightmares so much as my mind’s way of dealing with the regret I’d forever feel over the fact that I’d stood there mute as that perky little nineteen year old bounced on Brayden’s cock like it was a pogo stick.

  I shook my head. “No. I haven’t dreamed about them since July, at least. I’m mostly over it.”

  “Mmm,” he hummed thoughtfully as he reached into the cupboard and pulled down the mug I’d given him earlier that summer. “That’s good, I suppose.”

  I’d only lived with him for a handful of weeks when his mom stopped by unexpectedly one morning to invite me to dinner to celebrate Nick’s birthday. Since I hadn’t even known it was his birthday, I was caught off guard to have received an invite to his family’s celebration. The fact that the dinner was later that night caused no small amount of panic. Nick and I were still in the getting-to-know-you phase of our friendship, so shopping for a suitable gift for him proved somewhat stressful—especially since I’d only had thirty minutes on my lunch break in which to do it.

  Since Nick worked in a research lab testing new medications before they came to market, when I saw a mug that said “I make horrible science puns but only periodically” at a small shop around the corner from my office, I thought it was the perfect gift. But then, as I sat in Nick’s mom’s living room and watched him open one extravagant present after another, I instantly regretted my choice of gift. Between the new leather briefcase he received form his mom, and the Red Sox tickets he’d gotten from his brother, my gift felt rather paltry. Still, I’d told myself, he was lucky I’d gotten him anything at all.

  Which was why it never ceased to amaze me whenever he used it--and since I was the one who did the dishes, I knew that was practically every day. And that leather briefcase his mom had bought for him? It was still sitting on the top shelf of his closet wrapped in its protective covering. Maybe I wasn’t such a bad gift giver after all. Or maybe I just got him.

  “It is good,” I said, opening the refrigerator door and rooting around inside of it for something to eat before I left for the office. “My therapist says it means I’m finally ready to move on.”

  Behind me, I heard him settling back onto his stool as I grabbed an egg and turkey sausage sandwich. Making sure not to catch his eye, I scuttled across the kitchen toward the microwave to heat it up.

  “Move on?” he asked, lifting the mug to his perfect lips.

  “You know, date,” I said, quickly moving to the trash can to throw away the tinfoil I’d wrapped my sandwich in when I’d made it that weekend for mornings such as this. “Speaking of, don’t you need to head back to your room? Your guest might get lonely.”

  “My guest?”

  “Yeah, you know. Whoever was in your room with you last night when you got home from the party—” I slapped my palm over my mouth and stared at him in wide-eyed horror. The whole point of not looking at him was so he wouldn’t be able to read the guilt on my face, but now I’d basically just admitted to listening in on his sexy shenanigans.

  He set his mug off to the side and propped his elbow on the marble-topped island as he stared at me with an inscrutable look in his eyes. He could have been a statue for all his facial features gave
away his thoughts. “There was no one in my room last night, Mikayla.”

  “Are you sure?” I squeaked.

  He nodded slowly, the right side of his mouth tipping up in a wry grin. “Yes, I’m sure.”

  “Oh, my mistake. I just thought I heard a woman’s voice in there with you.”

  At that, his cheeks turned a dusky shade of pink, and he cleared his throat. “Um, yeah. No. That was, um …”

  I held up my hand so he wouldn’t be forced to admit that he’d been watching porn. “That’s okay. We’re both adults with … ahem … needs. I get it. Say no more.”

  He dropped his gaze down to the counter and scratched at a divot in the marble with the fingernail on his thumb. When I thought he wasn’t going to say anything more, I bit into my breakfast. As I was chewing, he looked back up. “It’s just that, you know … it’s been awhile.”

  I shoved another bite of food into my mouth before I was even finished chewing the previous one and nodded, silently thanking the good lord for having given me the insight to grab this sandwich since it meant I didn’t have to actually acknowledge his statement verbally.

  “Anyhow,” he said, when he realized I was committed to eating my breakfast sandwich like it was my last meal on earth, “I’ll try to keep the volume down next time.”

  I nodded again, my head bobbing up and down frantically, and just so he was sure we were all good, I flashed him a thumbs-up sign with the hand that wasn’t gripping a breakfast sandwich for dear life.

  He stared at me blankly for a few seconds, but then he turned and shuffled out of the kitchen, scratching the back of his neck as he went.