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Twenty-Nine
Devon
“Happy Christmas,” I hear a deep voice murmur as my eyes flicker open to find Wes gazing down at me.
I smile and nuzzle in closer against his chest. “Morning. Happy Christmas.”
“This is a little strange for me, I’ve got to admit,” he says, rubbing his hand absently over my arm. “I’ve never woken up with anyone on Christmas morning before.”
“Me neither.”
His brows shoot up in astonishment. “Seriously?”
I nod. “Seriously.” I can tell what he’s thinking, but Emma and I were never the kind of couple who slept over at each other’s places every night. I always thought it was because we were both introverted and valued our own space, but I know now we just simply weren’t right together. Nothing was real with her; not the way it is with Wes. Even when we’re fighting, I can’t imagine preferring to be anywhere other than with him.
“Can I give you your present?” I ask, shifting the conversation along.
He grins. “Absolutely. I love presents.”
I drag myself up and crawl over to my bedside table, tugging open the drawer. “I didn’t spend a whole lot because I didn’t think you’d really appreciate that,” I explain as I retrieve the wrapped bundle and hand it to Wes.
“Good call.” He rips open the paper, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the t-shirt inside; but then he sees theSaints & Sinnersalbum cover picture on the front and his face turns into a scowl. “You’re the devil.”
“You don’t like it?” I ask, affecting an air of innocence.
“This is one t-shirt you’re welcome to steal,” he grumbles.
I place a hand over my heart. “I’mhurt. I picked that out especially for you.”
Wes just shakes his head and turns away to lean over the side of the bed, rummaging in his bag on the floor. When he turns back around, he’s thrusting a little white jewellery box at me. “Here. Not that you deserve it now.”
My eyes widen at the sight of the box, and I hesitantly reach out to take it. Why is he giving me jewellery? That is soun-Wes. Maybe I miscalculated with the All Saints t-shirt…?
I flick the lid of the box open to reveal...a small silver bar piercing. What the…?
“A piercing?” I ask, trying not to sound too freaked out. But, come on, surely he hasn’t forgotten that I’d rather be mauled by a tiger than poke a hole in my body?
Wes lets out a soft little chuckle, his churlish mood seemingly evaporated. “Don’t worry, that’s not the real gift.”
I let out a heavy breath of relief. “Oh, thank god. So, why am I holding this then?”
His lips curve into a slow smile. “Because your gift is that you get to decide where I’m going to put that.” He waves his hand over his entire body, making his meaning clear.
Okay, this just got interesting.
I cock an eyebrow at him. “There aren’t that many places left.”
“I’m sure you can findsomewhere.Oh, and you also need to find somewhere for this,” he adds, reaching over to the bedside table and retrieving his sketchbook tablet thingamajig. He scrolls through it for a moment and then flashes the screen at me, showing a drawing of me lying naked on the bed.
“You want to getthatinked onto you?” I ask, brows raised.
He nods. “Yep. And you get to choose where it goes.”
“Seriously? You’d be okay with getting that on your forehead?”
He shrugs. “If that’s where you wanted it.”
I let out a snort of amusement. I suspect he’s mainly saying that because he knows I’d never in a million years ask him to tattoo his forehead, especially not with a naked drawing of me, but I also know that if Ididask him to do it he’d fucking do it.
