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“Do you forgive me?”
“You don’t have anything to apologize for.”
“I’m going to take that as a yes.” He brushed his lips against mine without actually kissing me before gently stroking my lower lip with his thumb. The tease made the anticipation grow between us. He leaned in with his lips slightly parted, allowing us to breathe in and out together. Then he did something he had never done before—his tongue outlined my lips, making me gasp and sending shivers of delight through my body.
“You like that,” he whispered.
I nodded.
“How about this?” He trailed soft kisses down my neck.
I wove my hands into his hair.
He moved down, pressing kisses against my collar bone. “Mmm,” he groaned against my skin before his lips found mine again. He pressed his body against mine, pushing me against my pillows. The tip of his tongue parted my lips. We fell into a gentle rhythm until he abruptly pulled away, breathing hard.
“We shouldn’t do this in your bed.”
I sat up and ran my fingers through my hair. “That’s probably a good idea.”
He gave me a sly smile. “This calls for bundling.”
“Bundling?”
“It’s a colonial courting tradition where a girl’s parents would wrap a boy and girl together in bed, fully clothed, so they could spend the night being intimate without sex.”
“Is this a real thing? I feel like taking a page out of Whitney’s book and googling it.”
He held up his hand. “I swear on my honor as a gentleman it’s true.”
“What time is it? Don’t you need to go home?”
He looked at his watch. “It’s almost midnight and as long as I’m home before Whitney wakes up it’s fine. In fact, I was hoping you would come home with me. I want us to be together on Christmas morning.”
I bit my lip and contemplated his offer.
“Don’t you want to see Whitney’s reaction to the doll?”
He got me there. “I do.”
“It’s a plan. Now scoot over. We have some bundling to do.”
I inched over to give him some room on my full-size bed. He kicked off his shoes and crawled under the covers with me. He opened his arms and I accepted his invitation to snuggle against him. My head landed on his chest. My favorite place to rest.
“Merry Christmas,” he whispered.
“Merry Christmas, Jonah.”
“This is nice,” Jonah stroked my hair. “We should bundle more often.”
I kissed his chest. “I’m still fact-checking you in the morning.”
A laugh rumbled in his chest.
We lay still and quiet for a moment. Only the sounds of our beating hearts and breaths could be heard. After several minutes I sighed. “Why do you think the letter didn’t come today?”
“Hmm.” His fingers glided down my arm. “I don’t know. Maybe it got lost or . . . maybe he died,” he hesitated to say.
I hadn’t thought of that as a possibility. I wasn’t sure how to feel about it. Did I even have any emotion for a dead father who’d ignored me my entire life?
“If that’s true, how will I ever know who my father is and why he sent me a letter every year? How will I put my past to rest when it’s still a mystery to me?”
“I’ll hire a private investigator and you can take one of those DNA tests to see if it gives us any clues. Hell, we’ll post about it on Facebook. We’ll figure it out. I promise you, we’ll find out who he is. And when you’re ready to close the door on that chapter in your life, I’ll be there on the other side, pen in hand, waiting to write out the pages of our life together.”
That was the most beautiful thing anyone had ever said to me. I snuggled closer against him. “Please be patient.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
For once, I allowed myself to believe him. I closed my eyes, but this time I knew things would be better in the morning because I knew whose arms I would find myself in. And for once, on Christmas morning, I wouldn’t feel alone.Chapter Twenty-FiveJonah and I waited—snuggled up on his couch in the light of the Christmas tree—for my best friend to get up and see the wonders that awaited her. It really was a wonderous sight. The tree overflowed with presents. Jonah had gone overboard in light of this being the first Christmas where he’d actually purchased gifts instead of an experience for his daughter. A fire crackled in the low lighting, making it extra cozy even though his great room was, well, great in size. And we had the cookies that hadn’t been eaten from the night before. I was starving since I had basically eaten the equivalent of a handful of leaves last night at the disastrous dinner.
I still couldn’t believe Jonah had convinced me to come home with him, seeing as those who ruined Christmas Eve dinner were asleep upstairs. I didn’t begrudge Jonah letting Eliza spend the night on account of he’d spent the night with me, bundling. Which really was a thing. I had verified it this morning on the drive over before the crack of dawn.
