An Ex for Christmas(46)

A third time can’t hurt—I just have to wait for her to get more desire.

I give it a shake, but before I can get the answer, a male hand plucks the Magic 8 ball away.

“Hey, I need—”

“No you don’t,” he says, holding it over his head even as I make a jump for it. “You don’t need this stupid ball to decide.”

“Call it a stupid ball again and I’ll knee your stupid balls,” I mutter.

He smiles and wraps an arm around my waist. “No you won’t.”

“I might!”

“Nope.”

He lowers his mouth to my neck, and I can’t stop the sigh as his lips touch the skin just below my ear. “Wait, if I could just see—”

“Make the decision, Kelly.” His mouth opens over my neck, teeth nipping lightly.

I gasp. “I can’t—”

“Yes you can.”

“I’m—” I swallow as he kisses the sensitive skin at the base of my throat. “I’m scared,” I manage.

Mark goes still and straightens so he can meet my eyes. “Of me?”

“Of us,” I say. “Of ruining this.”

I gesture between us.

Mark’s voice is gentle. “Did last night feel like a ruination?”

I remember the way my orgasmic wails echoed off the walls. I was sort of ruined. “Well—”

“I mean a ruination of us.”

I take a deep breath. “No.”

“Well, then. What makes you think a second time will?”

I press my lips together and try to be brave, I do, it’s just . . . I make another leap for the Magic 8 ball, but he puts it once more out of my reach.

“All right,” he says slowly, searching my face. “You need someone to make this decision for you?”

I nod and hold out my hands for the ball with a smile.

In response, he tosses it backward into the hall, where it rolls and collides with the wall.

“Hey!” I try to go for it, but he wraps an arm around my waist, propelling me backward until my feet are off the ground and I land flat on my back on the bed with an oomf.

Mark follows me onto the bed, caging me in with his big body.

“Ask me,” he orders, pinning my wrists over my head with one hand.

“Ask you what?” I say, a little breathless.

“Ask me what you asked the damn ball.”

I swallow. “Should I sleep with Mark again?”

His smile is slow and confident as he slowly lowers his body to mine. “It is certain.”





December 21, Thursday Afternoon


I do a pretty good job of not sulking when Mark has to go to work later that afternoon.

It’s just as well. After three (yes, three) rounds of incredible sex, I need time to figure out what the heck is going on here, and how I feel about it.

As well as figure out what to do with the text message that just came through.

Hey, Kelly? Is this the right number? Jordan Van Doren told me that a friend of yours told her you were looking for me?

That’s right. The text message on my phone is from none other than Adam Bartley, one of my two missing ex-boyfriends.

I should be elated. It’s four days until Christmas, and here the opportunity to maybe connect with my potential soulmate is staring me in the face.

I pick up my phone to reply, to ask him how he’s been, where he’s been . . .

I can’t.

I set the phone back down and bite my lip.

Wine. That’ll help. I need wine.

But half a glass of Chardonnay later, Adam’s text is still unanswered.

Ironically, the very person whose opinion I want to ask on what to do is the very one who’s causing my indecision in the first place.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. What I have with Mark is just sex. It’s separate from my quest for my soulmate.

There. That’s a good pep talk, right?

It does the trick, because I pick up the phone and reply . . .

Hey! Yes, just was thinking about you lately. You know how I get around the holidays. Nostalgic and whatnot :)

I hit send and quickly exchange the phone for my wine. There. That wasn’t so bad. Now I just have to wait . . .

My iPhone buzzes. Damn it. What is with all my exes being so prompt?

Ha, yeah, I remember you did always get a little weepy this time of year.

I narrow my eyes. Did he and I even date over Christmas? I can’t remember. Truth be told, I can’t remember much about Adam at all. Light brown hair. Brown eyes. Blue eyes? He had a birthmark on his right shoulder, I know that, and . . .

Yeah, that’s about it as far as memories go.

So you’ve been good? Still in New York?

I bite my lip as I wait in agony for a little bit . . . as his typing turns into text.

His response makes my stomach drop out.

Yeah, but not the city. Got tired of the business, traded in my suit for jeans and bought a place upstate.

I close my eyes. Upstate.

Haven is upstate.

All this time I’ve been waiting for a sign that one of these guys is the one, and here one of them is practically next door . . .

But well now, wait a minute. Let’s not get hasty. Upstate New York applies to a huge region. For all I know, he could be four hours away and married.