Page 7 of Once Upon a Thanksgiving
Our kisses get deeper, hungrier. Her hands slide under my jacket, over my chest, nails grazing my shirt. I grip her waist, fingers sneaking under her sweater, feeling her shiver, whether from cold or want, I’m not sure.
She breaks away just long enough to catch her breath, eyes dark and dazed. “If my mother comes looking for me…”
“Then she’ll know her matchmaking worked,” I tease, kissing the tip of her nose, then trailing down to her neck. She arches into me, hands fisting in my hair as my mouth finds that sweet spot just beneath her ear, making her gasp.
“God, Jack…” she murmurs, grinding closer, letting me feel exactly how badly she wants this.
I pull her even closer, both of us shifting on the bench, desperate, a little reckless. Her lips find mine again, urgent now, teeth catching on my lower lip, tongue teasing. Every kiss is a dare, every moan a promise of more.
My hands slip up her sweater, palms pressing to her bare back. Her skin is soft and hot, and when my thumbs brush the curve of her waist, she shudders and bites my lip.
The kisses slow, our foreheads pressed together, both panting. I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, to feel her, just to ground myself.
“Talk to me,” I whisper, breathless. “Tell me what’s in your head right now.”
She’s quiet for a moment, tracing my jaw with her fingertip, eyes searching mine. “I keep thinking this can’t be real. That I’ll wake up tomorrow and you’ll be gone. Or that I’ll do something to ruin it.”
I cup her face in both hands, brushing my thumbs over her cheeks. “Autumn, I want all of it. The mess, the noise, the real you. I’ve never wanted anything so much in my life.”
She leans in, kissing me softly, almost reverently. “I’m scared,” she confesses, voice breaking.
I rest my forehead against hers. “Me too. But I’ve spent years running from what I actually want. I don’t want to run from you.”
She kisses me again, deeper, her hands sliding under my shirt, fingers splaying across my bare skin, making me shudder. I pull her flush against me, letting her feel every inch of what she does to me.
“I want you,” she whispers, hips rolling, breath coming fast. “But I want to know you, too. Really know you. Not just this.”
I nod, lips tracing her cheek, her temple, her jaw. “I want to give you everything. The good, the bad, the history. Whatever you ask, it’s yours.”
We fall into another long, hungry kiss, hands wandering, teasing, almost forgetting where we are. Her fingers graze the line of my waistband, my own hands exploring under hersweater, every soft inch she gives me. The bench creaks beneath us, the air around us thick with want.
We both know neither of us is ready to push this any further—not here, now, with her whole family asleep just a few yards away. We’re both trembling, flushed, completely undone.
She presses one last, slow kiss to my mouth, her hands framing my face. “Stay for a little longer?”
I nod, wrapping her up in my arms, letting her settle back into my side, blanket tucked around both of us. We talk about dreams, about what scares us, about everything we never say in daylight. I tell her about the ache of starting over, the pressure to succeed, the loneliness I thought I’d chosen. She tells me about the fear of letting everyone down, about wanting more than this town but missing it more than she ever thought she would.
Every so often, we kiss again slowly, sweetly, and hungrily. My hands never stop moving. I stroked her hair, tracing her ribs, memorizing every line. Her touch grounds me, her laughter makes me bold.
At last, dawn hints at the horizon, pink and blue over the frosted fields beyond the open doors. She’s curled up against me, head on my shoulder, eyes heavy. I press a last kiss to her hair, the urge to take her home with me almost overwhelming.
I force myself to stand, lifting her gently, settling her back on the bench, tucking the blanket around her shoulders.
“I should go,” I whisper, reluctant. “If I stay, I’m not sure I’ll let you go at all.”
She smiles, lazy and beautiful, and cups my jaw. “You’ll come back?”
“Try and keep me away,” I murmur, stealing one last kiss, deep and lingering, before I head out into the chill.
As I walk away across the yard, I feel her eyes on me, my whole body humming, heart fuller than it’s been in years.
Tonight, I got a taste of what it means to be wanted, to belong. And I know, I would do anything for another night like this.
Chapter seven
Autumn
The day after Thanksgiving at Murphy Pines is always crazy. The alarm goes off, and I got a whole two hours of sleep. I swing my feet out of bed. The entire house is humming with voices, music, the rattle of pans, the steady drumbeat of Mom’s “let’s go, people!” echoing through every wall.
