In her car, it’s quiet. No music playing as she follows him home. She seems calm, but underneath the surface, she’s a tempest. A storm beneath the raging sea of waiting for tonight.

He opens the door, and she’s all schoolgirl blushes as he shows her around. Scenes from a home she’s only seen in pictures, ones they’ve traded back and forth like so much currency. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.

He shows her in one look. One kiss. One rough pass of his teeth over her neck.

It’s a countdown, and she’s wound up like a clock.

Blindly, she lets him move her. From the hallway to the wall. The wall to the couch. When did they get from the couch to his bed?

Kisses get more frantic. She’s short of breath, greedy for the feel of him. For bare skin on bare skin. Time moves too slowly and not quick enough. She can’t savor. Doesn’t want to.

He slides home, and then it’s nothing but the feeling of finally. The feeling of yes. Of tangled legs and shuddering pleasure.

Sated, he whispers against the sweat of her skin—

“Happy new year, babe.”


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