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My gaze jumps from the box to him, then back to the box. I’m not sure what to do. I want to take it from him, but I can’t.
“What?” I ask, clenching the coffee mug in my hands a little tighter, like I might drop it if I’m not careful.
“Take it.” A small smile tilts his lips. “It’s Christmas. It’s a gift.”
Christmas. Gift.
Somehow, although I’m not really sure I’m doing it until the box is in my hands, I reach out and take it from him. I completely forgot about the holiday, and even if I hadn’t, I wasn’t expecting anything.
I can’t remember the last time I got a Christmas gift from someone. Maybe I did when I was younger, even though I can’t remember it. Kids get Christmas gifts. Not rebellious foster teens who bounce from house to house without ever putting down roots.
I must speak some part of my thoughts out loud, because Gray says, “Everyone deserves a Christmas gift. Open it. I promise it won’t bite.”
When I meet his gaze, my throat is tight. I don’t know if he fully understands what this means to me. Gray has probably gotten dozens of Christmas gifts, birthday gifts, and gifts in general. Me? This shit makes me almost want to cry, in a good way. Which is almost worse than crying in a bad way.
With trembling hands, I thumb aside the ribbon and open up the box. Set on a bed of silk is a beautiful little necklace made of gold and the daintiest heart set with diamonds. The little stones reflect the sunlight that pours in through the kitchen window, and I can tell this isn’t just something he picked up from the local mall. It’s expensive, but not in a way that makes my skin crawl.
“Gray, this is…” I look up at him, my voice faltering. “This is beautiful. Thank you.”
I’m almost afraid I’ll break it as I pull the little chain out of the box to take a better look at it. We never really talked about Christmas, or if we were doing anything for it. It completely slipped my mind because I’ve gotten so used to not celebrating the holidays—actively ignoring them most of the time.
“Let me help you put it on.” Gray holds out his hand, and I give him the necklace.
His fingers brush against my skin as he pushes the strands of my hair over my shoulders. I help him by gathering it up in one hand and holding it at my neck to give him better access as he reaches behind me and clasps the necklace. He pulls away, his gaze drifting down to where the small heart rests against my upper chest, and my skin heats.
“There.” His voice is pleased, quiet, barely disturbing the silence of the kitchen. “Almost as beautiful as you.”
There’s a softness in his tone that I’ve never heard in him before, and my whole body shivers with delicious awareness—but a different type than we usually share. It’s something deeper, more intoxicating. I watch him swallow, a slow dip of his throat. I can see him willing himself to say something, but he doesn’t, his jaw set with an intensity that I know all too well.
Neither of us are great at expressing our feelings. Not with words anyway. I think that’s what brought us together in the beginning. A mutual understanding that the big emotions, that deep shit that goes all the way down to your bones, doesn’t always need to be spoken.
As his hand skims up the column of my neck, any resolution that Gray had to stay away from me seems to crumble. His lips find mine as he kisses me.
And if I forgot how it felt to kiss him after almost two weeks without this, I’m sure as hell not forgetting now—because even though his kiss is softer, more intimate than it’s ever been before, my body reacts like it always does, melting into his touch.
My barstool scrapes against the floor as I slide off of it and into his arms. Something in his kiss changes, the smallest spark exploding into flames. His legs open wider as he pulls me closer, his large hand splaying across my lower back as his tongue delves into my mouth.
“It looks perfect on you, Sparrow,” he murmurs, his voice almost swallowed up by our hungry, searching kisses. “Promise me you’ll never take it off. That you’ll always wear it.”
The possessiveness in his tone makes my heart beat a little harder, and I thread my fingers through his soft brown hair, gripping the strands tightly as I inhale his scent and binge on his taste.
I can feel his cock straining against his sweats, pressing into my lower belly, and a second later, he pushes off the stool with his arms still wrapped around me.
We stumble across the kitchen, and I have no real idea where we’re headed until my back hits the sleek, cold surface of the stainless steel refrigerator. I’m only wearing a tank top and shorts, and the metal is a shock to my heated skin. It only makes me more aware of the heat of Gray’s body, and I groan into his kiss.
“Fucking hell.” He sounds almost tortured. “I missed this. I’ve been going insane all week, knowing you were right down the hall.” He grinds his cock against me as if to prove his point. “I just about jerked my dick off trying to get some satisfaction. But it was never enough.”
The image of him in his room or in the shower, his large fist stroking his cock in sharp movements, his head tipped back in ecstasy… it fills me with arousal and a strange sense of jealousy, as if I’m almost mad at him for doing all of that without me.
“You should’ve come to my room,” I shoot back, sparks of pleasure shooting through me as his lips leave mine and trail over my jaw before his teeth nip the delicate skin of my throat. “You aren’t going to break me.”
He growls against my skin, biting harder when he reaches the spot where my neck meets my shoulder. “Don’t be so fucking sure about that, Sparrow.”
The dark promise in his voice makes a flood of wetness dampen my panties. I don’t know if it’s just because we haven’t done this in way too long, or if there’s something else that’s driving him this morning, but the way he’s touching me reminds me of the first time we had sex, in the bathroom of The Silent Hour.
I can feel the same sort of desperation in him now, the same sort of violent, insatiable hunger, and it sparks something inside me too.
Reaching down, I grab the hem of his shirt and tug it upward, pulling it over his head. It’s barely hit the floor before he’s doing the same to me, ripping my tank top off so fast that one of the straps snaps. He kisses me again as he shoves my shorts and panties down over my hips, and I wriggle my legs to shimmy them off before kicking them aside. I’m already working on his pants too, and the second they’re out of the way, I reach for his dick.
