Page 33 of The Christmas Cover Rule
I should get up, but instead, I close my eyes again. I don’t move. I just breathe. My body is warm and more relaxed than it’s been in months. There’s a soft hum with the faint ache of the pleasure I still feel from last night. If I roll over and find Jonas gone—even if it’s only because of his morning run—this perfect, blissful bubble I now find myself in will pop.
“Did you know you snore?”
My lips pull up uncontrollably, and I squeeze my eyes shut.
“Don’t worry, though, it’s the cute kind.”
I roll over, ready to call him a liar, but fall short when my eyes land on the man before me. Both arms folded behind his head, his body made of pure, thick muscle, a sliver of the white sheet hides one leg and his enormous, pierced cock. Andthat one thick, tattoo-covered leg hangs out of the sheets. Jonas is so fucking hot, it literally takes my breath away. What’s worse is that this perfect specimen of a man is kind. He’s selfless and thoughtful. He’s witty and funny, and all the things I didn’t expect him to be.
He reaches a hand up and tucks a loose strand of my hair behind my ear. It’s a move he’s done multiple times since we’ve been here, and every time he does it, it still takes my breath away.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks.
I chew the inside of my cheek, nervous about how honest an answer I’m willing to give.
I’m thinking all of this feels more real than either of us intended. I’m thinking I could wake up next to you like this forever and be happy. I’m thinking of how crushed I’ll be when we go our separate ways after tomorrow. I’m thinking, what if it doesn’t feel the same for you like it does for me?
I’m still not ready to pop this bubble with the answers to those questions, though, so instead I say, “I have something for you.” I turn, grab my bathing suit top from the floor, and make quick work of the tie.
“I’ll be honest, you topless in bed was enough for me.”
“I can’t give a gift naked.” I laugh, reaching into the nightstand drawer. “Okay, close your eyes.” I wait a beat, clutching the paper bag to my chest, and turn around to find Jonas propped up against the headrest, sitting with his eyes closed.
My heart hammers so loud that if the air conditioning vent stopped, I’m sure he would be able to hear it. It shouldn’t be this big of a deal, but as my gaze sweeps his body again, I start to second-guess myself. Before I can talk myself out of it, I place the bag into his waiting palm, and his free hand catches mine. My breath stalls in my throat as I look to him, and his eyes open, fixated on me. I don’t drop his gaze, but I feel it when he intertwines our fingers together. Hestares into my eyes, his thumb brushing over my knuckles, and when his lips pull up into that smile of his, I feel him everywhere.
It’s overwhelming. I inhale a shaky breath before dropping my eyes and nodding toward his lap. “Merry Christmas, Jonas.”
Seeing the gift shop mistletoe ornament hang between his fingers and how he stares at it, I’m suddenly feeling self-conscious again. “I know it’s small and kind of lame?—”
“It’s perfect.” His thumb brushes over the tag that reads Caribbean Splendor Resort. “I think it might be the best gift I’ve ever received.”
I want to roll my eyes, but when he looks at me, the truth in his gaze is undeniable.
He leans forward, his lips meeting mine, and for the first time, I’m absolutely certain there’s nothing fake about this kiss. My body melts into his, as if I couldn’t possibly keep away from him, and his arms wrap around my lower back, pulling me tightly against him, as if he needed this just as bad. His tongue sweeps my lips, and I open for him, letting him in deeper. Deeper into the kiss and deeper into my heart. He nips at my bottom lip, and I moan, pressing myself further to him.
“You might want to put some underwear on,” he whispers against my lips.
“Not where I thought this was going.” I smile, but don’t open my eyes when Jonas begins to pepper kisses down my neck.
“I have something for you, too.”
“Is it your real name?”
“You. Wish.” He swiftly kisses me once more, and then he’s up, standing at the edge of the bed, pulling on his boxers.
“Oh. Like, right now?” I slide out of the bed, grab Jonas’s Pearl Jam T-shirt from the chair, and meet him by the patio door.
“What are we doing?”
“Close your eyes.”
I do as he says, but not before eyeing him skeptically. Standing with my eyes closed, I’m forced to use my other senses. I hear the scrape of a chair leg across the patio, a light flick of some sort, and then what I can only describe as a humming sound.
“Jonas?”
“Keep ‘em closed. One more minute.” His voice gets closer until I think he’s back in front of me, and he confirms it by grabbing both of my hands in his.
“Okay. Open.”
