“You look smug in a festive location.”
His gaze dropped to the bag in my hand, and his smile softened. He did not ask what I had bought. I appreciated that because the gift suddenly felt more private now that it existed outside my head.
“Thirty minutes,” he said. “Small budget. No ridiculous spending. I followed all the rules.”
“That sounds exactly like something a person who broke the rules would say.”
He laughed and reached for my hand, threading his fingers through mine as though we had been doing this for years instead of days. “Come on. Let’s put these in the SUV before you accuse me of financial crimes in public.”
We tucked both bags safely behind the seat before heading to Sugar & Spice Cafe. Neither of us mentioned what we had bought, which somehow made the whole thing feel even more intimate. The gifts were small, inexpensive, and probably a little ridiculous, but they were ours.
TWENTY
THANE
I woke up before Kieran did.
The sheets had slipped down around his waist, baring the pale curve of his shoulder, the scatter of freckles across his collarbone. The morning light caught the fine hairs on his arm, turning them to gold. He looked peaceful in a way that awakened a fierce tenderness inside me. His mouth was slightly parted, his breathing slow and even, a faint flush lingering on his cheeks from the night before. For a few seconds, I simply lay there staring at him.
I glanced toward the window. The sky beyond the glass still carried the pale light of early morning. A smile tugged at my mouth.
It was Christmas morning.
Outside, I could hear the muffled sounds of a small town waking up on Christmas morning: a car starting somewhere, a dog barking in the distance. But here, in this bed, there was only him.
It didn't make sense. We met a week ago, and already I felt like I'd been looking for him my whole life.
I'd never been the type to fall fast. I'd dated, sure, but always kept a distance, never let anyone get too close. But Kieran had slipped past every defense, and I hadn't even put up a fight.
I reached out, barely brushing my fingertips along his jaw. His skin was warm, smooth, a little rough where his stubble was starting to come in. He stirred slightly, a soft sound catching in his throat, but didn't wake. His lips parted a fraction more, and I watched the flutter of his eyelashes, the way his brow relaxed again.
I wanted him to wake. I wanted him to open his eyes and look at me first thing, wanted to see that sleepy, disoriented smile that I'd already memorized. But I also wanted to treasure this moment—just him, just me, nothing else. The world outside could wait.
So, I did it again, slower, tracing the line of his jaw to his chin, then up across his cheekbone. I leaned in and pressed a kiss to his forehead, letting my lips linger. The skin there was soft, warm, and I breathed him in. The faint scent of soap, the warmth of sleep, something clean and young and wholly him. Then another kiss to the corner of his mouth, featherlight.
"Kieran," I whispered.
His eyelids fluttered. A crease appeared between his brows, and then he blinked up at me, unfocused, heavy-lidded. For a second, he looked confused, lost in the fog of sleep, and then recognition dawned. His eyes softened, brightened.
"Mm?" His voice was rough, barely audible.
"Hey." I smiled, brushed a strand of hair from his face. "You awake?"
He blinked again, then his lips curved into that slow, dazed smile I'd been waiting for. "'I’m awake now." He stretched a little, a full-body catlike curl, and the sheet slipped further, revealing the plane of his chest, the dip of his waist. My breath caught.
I kissed him, soft and slow, tasting the morning on his mouth. His lips were dry, a little chapped, but they parted easily under mine, and he made that sleepy, contented sound that sent a jolt straight to my groin.
His hand found its way to my chest, fingers splaying over my heart, and I felt the warmth of his palm through the thin fabric of my boxers.
"What time is it?" he murmured against my lips.
"Early still. Sun's just up." I pulled back enough to look at him. "I wanted to see you first. Before anything else." The words came out more earnest than I'd intended, and I felt a flush creep up my neck.
His cheeks flushed warm, that pretty pink that spread across his nose and down to his chest. He hid his face in the pillow for a second, then turned back, eyes bright. "That's… really sweet."
I grinned and kissed him again, deeper this time. His lips parted, and I slid my tongue inside, slow and deliberate. His hand slid up from my chest to the back of my neck, pulling me closer. The kiss grew heavier, wetter, and I felt him shift against me—felt his leg slide between mine, felt the press of his hips, the warmth of his half-hard cock against my thigh.
A shudder ran through me. The heat between us was immediate, electric. I wanted more.
