When Nic kissed her this time, it wasn’t slow. No, she nearly devoured her mouth the same way she had her clit. Abby found herself responding again, pulling Nic close to her as her hips arched into her. But Nic had far too many clothes on for what she wanted to do. She tugged at Nic’s sweater, urging it over her head. Nic pulled away long enough to rip it off.

“This too,” Abby whispered, indicating the undershirt. Nic pulled it off as well, leaving her torso naked. “No bra? God, I love that.” Nic’s hands slid under her own sweater, shoving it off as Abby fumbled with the zipper of Nic’s jeans. “I think you’ve turned me into some sort of a shameless sex fiend.”

It was true. She was so terribly aroused—possessed by this wild, frenzied passion that she wasn’t quite sure what to do with. Well, she knew what to do, of course. She simply didn’t recognize herself any longer as she drew Nic to her, finding her mouth again. Hot, wet kisses had her moaning. It was Nic who brought some normalcy to the situation though.

“Bed,” Nic murmured into her ear. “Let’s go to bed.”

“Yes, good. I’m about to fall down.”

She fell into bed instead, pulling Nic on top of her. She felt insatiable, wondering how long it would take to quench her desire. She closed her eyes as Nic’s mouth covered her breast. She hoped it took hours and hours.

And hours.

* * *

She didn’t know if it was the silence that woke her or the empty bed. She stretched her legs out, noting the sweet ache between her thighs. Lord, but could that woman make love or what? She reached over to where Nic had been, feeling the cool of the sheets. She sat up and grabbed her phone, looking at the time—3:12. Where was Nic?

She got up, searching for her sleep shirt, then remembered that they hadn’t gotten that far. They’d simply shed their clothes. She looked around, seeing them still strewn across the floor. She went to the drawers, pulling out a pair of sweats and a shirt. She opened the door quietly, listening. Her parents’ bedroom was downstairs, and Aaron and Holly’s room was quiet. She moved to the landing, stopping when she saw her.

Nic was sitting on the stairs—halfway down—her knees drawn up to her chest, her arms looped around them. She was staring at the Christmas tree, the colorful lights blinking, causing shadows to ebb and flow. Nothing remained of the earlier fire except a few red embers. The coolness of the air made her wrap her arms around herself.

She moved down the stairs, sitting beside Nic. She leaned into her but said nothing. Nic shifted, finding her hand.