Page 28 of Sweet Boys Love Christmas
He groans, the sound pure sin. “Bertie, did you have to tell me that?”
“What?” I ask, racking my brain for the issue in my simple statement.
“Shower. You. Naked and wet.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.” He gives a soft chuckle. “You truly have no idea what you do to me, do you?”
Warmth unfurls in my core at the thought. I shouldn’t say it. I shouldn’t let my curiosity get the best of me. But there’s no stopping it. “What do I do to you?”
He lets out a resigned sigh, making the line crackle. I don’t know where he is, but in my mind, I picture him in his bed, leaning against the headboard.
“You make me crazy in the best way. Fuck, I hope this doesn’t sound creepy, but I think about you a lot. More than I should. I wonder what you’re doing, if you ate breakfast, what your favorite coffee flavor is, favorite season, favorite color. What you like to read. Your favorite movie. If you’ve slept well.” He groans. “You have me twisted in knots without even trying.”
I breathe in and out slowly, trying to process his words, my hands suddenly shaking. “Wow,” I whisper.
He huffs. “I’m sorry. That was a lot.”
“No, it’s okay.” I brush my hair off my forehead. “Right now I’m getting in bed like I said. It’s kind of cold and empty without you. I know it was only one night, but I liked sleeping with you. I did eat breakfast—you were there for it.”
He chuckles at that, a rough sound that sends shivers down my spine.
“My favorite coffee flavor changes, but my go-to right now is a peppermint mocha. My favorite season is fall. I love wearing oversized sweatshirts and watching the leaves change. My favorite color is pink. I don’t read much, but when I do, it’s romance and usually dirty.”
This time, his laugh is bigger, deeper.
“My favorite movie is a hard one. Right now, it’s probablyThe Holiday, but frankly, anything Nancy Meyers is involved in is a masterpiece. I did sleep well last night. Better than I have in a while. I think I have my bed partner and an earth-shatteringorgasm to thank for that. And you have me twisted in knots, too.” I whisper the last part, the confession falling off my lips more easily than I thought it would. “You scare me.”
“Well, fuck. That doesn’t sound good.”
My stomach sinks at the defeat in his tone. “I don’t mean like that. It’s just… breaking up with Tommy was hard enough. You? I think you could ruin me.”
I can’t believe I’m being this brutally honest with him. I’ve obviously lost my mind.
He’s quiet for so long that I pull my phone away from my ear to make sure the call is still connected.
Finally, he speaks, his voice hoarse. “If I ever have the pleasure of being the recipient of your heart, I promise I’ll care for it better than my own. I will never hurt you, Bertie.”
I close my eyes, soaking in the truth of his words.
Still, the fear that grips me tightens. “I better go to bed.”
He lets out a soft sigh, as if he isn’t ready to hang up, but he doesn’t argue. “All right, good night.”
Holding back a sniffle, I say “night” and disconnect the call.
EIGHT
LUKE
Luke
Bertieand I didn’t speak at all yesterday.
I’ve tried not to read too much into it, though it’s hard, considering I admitted just how much I like her. So it comes as a surprise when I open the door and find her standing on the front porch.
“Hi,” she says softly, the tip of her nose pink. “I hope it’s okay I showed up like this. I saw your truck was in the driveway so…” She peeks over her shoulder, and when she turns back, she’s frowning. “I can go.”
