Page 27 of Christmas Crisis
“Same.” He folded his arms across his chest. “But you didn’t get much sleep last night either. You need to rest before you totally crash out.”
One side of my mouth tipped up. “Gonna offer me a Xanny or something?”
He laughed lightly. But instead of responding, he simply gestured to the bedroom door and beckoned me through it. “C’mon.”
I couldn’t fight it. And he was right. It would help me sleep. Even though I knew something between us needed to change, there was no reason to push that issue right this minute. For now, it had been a shitty couple of days, and I wanted this.
Wordlessly, I walked past him into his room. He stepped ahead of me to pull back the covers on the bed.
Slipping in, I rolled onto my side, facing away. He crawled in behind me and lined up our bodies. One of his arms draped over my waist, and he pulled me back against his bent legs. His other arm slipped beneath my neck until I used his biceps as a pillow.
I felt every place our bodies met. His rough chest hair against my T-shirt between my shoulder blades. The soft cotton of his pajamas on the backs of my knees. His warm breath on my neck. His soft cock nestled in the cradle of my ass.
“Sleep,” he murmured, pressing a blink of a kiss to my earlobe. “I’ve got you.”
“I know.”
20 MONTHS AGO - MARCH
The day after we went to Disneyland, I woke up refreshed and ready for whatever else Leo wanted to do. I was no stranger to a heavy walking day. But my houseguest, not so much.
He declared his feet were killing him, and a low-key beach day was in order.
“You know how the beaches are in Washington,” he explained, dragging a plain white T-shirt over his head as he sat on the couch. “Rocky. And the water is so cold. I just want to lie on the sand and have it be warm for a change.”
The California ocean would be cold in March, but the sun was out, and he’d at least be able to stick a foot in and feel the waves.
“Let’s go to Santa Monica. We can walk on the pier and the promenade and visit some of the touristy spots once you’re done being a lazy bum.”
I yelped in surprise as he dragged me onto his lap, proceeding to rub his knuckle into the crown of my head. “Don’t call me lazy. Not when you made me walk miles and miles yesterday just to get in a few extra rides on Big Thunder Mountain.”
I shoved away from him, laughing as I retreated to the other side of the couch. “Did you just give me a noogie?”
“Not my fault. You deserved one. Besides, it’s better than a wet willy.” He grinned.
We stayed at the beach for hours. I napped and played word games on my phone while Leo kept his nose in one of my old paperbacks.
Accustomed to our flirtations-that-weren’t, it didn't faze me when he ran his hands over my back putting on sunscreen, when he looked appreciatively at the fit of my one-piece whilealso appearing completely unmoved by it, and when he lay back against the towel and slung one arm around me while the other held the book above his face.
Sometimes I wished Leo wanted more, that he was at least a tiny bit open to the possibility of a romantic relationship between us. I certainly wasn’t unmoved when he removed his shirt, clad in only a pair of medium-length navy blue board shorts. Half the women on the beach turned his way when he dipped his whole body in the icy waves, returning to our towels with water dripping over his muscles.
He was a man in his prime. Yet he seemed completely unaware of the effect he had on people.
The effect he had on me.
Welp, life wasn’t always roses. So he wasn’t interested. Big deal. I could more than live with being just friends. Especially since Leo hadn’t talked about bringing wetsuits to the beach so we could surf. He was fine with a day spent lounging and reading. I’d needed that energy in my life for so long. Maybe an amazing friendship was better than a love affair that could go to shit.
We ate dinner at a seafood restaurant near the pier. Leo ordered a tuna steak, and I ordered shrimp pasta, requesting extra plates to split our entrées.
For dessert, we shared a chocolate lava cake. As Leo held a fork to my mouth, encouraging me to take the last bite, an older woman walked over to our table.
“Hello. Aren’t you—” she began to ask me, until I peered up and she got a better look at my face. “Oh dear, my apologies.”
“Is everything okay?” Leo asked.
The woman spoke to him. “Yes. I’m so sorry. From the side, I thought your girlfriend was one of the young ladies who work in the salon where I get my hair done, so I came over to say hello. Apologies again for interrupting.”
“I’m not his—”
