Page 42 of Stuck with Me

AMELIA

Yes. You’re a stubborn ass.

I hate when she curses. She may be twenty-one but in my eyes she’s still the sweet little girl who made me play Barbie dolls with her.

ME

It’s Christmas. Guess I didn’t feel like being alone.

AMELIA

Good. I’m glad you’re not.

ME

Merry Christmas, Ams.

AMELIA

Merry Christmas, Nic.

And I think Granddad would be glad too.

I ignore her last text. To be honest, I don’t know what the fuck Granddad would want. Because I thought I knew everything about him.

A quiet snore sounds out beside me. I glance at Rosie and find her curled up with her head propped on a pile of pillows and her eyes closed. Her chest rises and falls evenly while her breathing rumbles.

Gently prying the nearly empty glass from her hand that rests on the floor, I set it on the end table so it doesn’t spill. She stirs, pushing her lips into a pout, before relaxing again without opening her eyes. It’s hard not to notice how peaceful she looks. It’s tempting to lean down and press a kiss to those full lips.

But kissing is off the table.

I find a fleece blanket on the couch and unfold it before covering her with it. Tugging it up to her chin, I brush her hair off her cheek with my thumb and she releases a little whimper. And dammit if it’s not the most adorable sound. It’s magnetic and I can’t resist. I lower my lips and drop a kiss on her temple.

I’m a fucking idiot.

Forehead kisses are for lovers. We aren’t that. We’re not even close to that. We aren’t even friends. We’re enemies.

I sit back up and lean against the sofa, lacing my fingers behind my head and I exhale a shaky sigh.

The movie is nearing the end. I keep watching, drain the rest of my whiskey, and revel in the ambience. Amelia would never forgive me if I didn’t get a picture of this movie projection set up. I pick up my phone and ignore the texts from my mother and take a few pictures. But I don’t send them tonight.

I need Christmas to end.

I need it to be December 26th.

* * *

Morning wood is a real bitch.

Especially when you wake up prodding your enemy in the ass. A throaty groan escapes me, and for a brief moment, my persistent hard-on causes me to have a lapse in judgement. I grip Rosie’s hip while I continue to thrust into her.

“Whoa, what the hell, Mr. Cocky?” She flips around and smacks me in the chest and clambers up to her knees.

I’m lucky she didn’t smack me in the dick. BecauseI ama dick.

“Sorry. Shit. I’m sorry.” I run my hand down my face.

“Did I not make myself clear last night? One time.”

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