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"Janey," he says, waiting until I meet his eyes. "Come to sleep."
Yes sir. I wiggle closer, hesitating when my hand hits the warmth of his bare skin. Jonas doesn't. His arms come around me, and he pulls me on top of him. I snuggle in and close my eyes, listening to the pounding of his heart under my ear.
His voice is a low, soft rumble. “Merry Christmas Eve, Janey. My wife."
"Merry Christmas Eve...Husband."
25
JONAS
I don't remember the first Christmas morning after my parents died. Or the second. But somehow, over the years, the significance of not having them with me at a time of year everyone else focuses on family began to chafe. Zach was always there, but he was a child too. Expecting him to create a Christmas for us wasn't fair. But I still did.
At first, anyway.
As I got older and I realized how much he had to sacrifice for me, I stopped caring about Christmas. If I had Zach, that was good enough. And he always had something for me, even if it was just a book he stole for me or a chocolate bar.
I've never been that good at Christmas. I like giving gifts, but waiting for birthdays or holidays has never made sense to me. If someone needs something, why not give it to them right away? Besides, when your entire family is rich, no one really needs a present anyway, do they? We're better off donating to a charity, eating takeout, and watching a movie.
Holding my lightly snoring wife on my chest, feeling her warmth radiate through me, is the best gift I've ever been given. If I got nothing else for the rest of my life, I'm good.
I need to buy her a car. Or a jet. Or an island. An island would be nice. We could go there, stay naked all day, and just be together.
An island doesn't feel like a big enough gift, though. It doesn't come near matching the prize she is. And I really don't think the diamond necklace I bought her for Christmas is going to cut it.
She groans and rubs her cheek on my chest. This intimacy, having someone you love — a woman you love — touching your skin, is addictive. Her arms tighten around me, hugging me to her.
This. This is what I've been missing my whole life.
I stroke my hands over the soft skin of her back, exposed between her pajama top and bottom. A low sound of pleasure escapes her. This is luxurious. Laying in bed, knowing there is nothing else I have to do right now but hold her.
"Merry Christmas," she murmurs, eyes still closed.
"Merry Christmas." I push back her hair, smoothing it away from her face, and peek at her. And there she goes, even more beautiful than yesterday. I don't understand it. "You snore."
She laughs and groans and buries her face in my chest. "You're not supposed to tell me that."
"Why not?"
"Because husbands are supposed to lie to their wives about stuff like this. You should tell me I'm beautiful and look like an angel when I sleep."
"You are beautiful, and you do look like an angel when you sleep." I pause, stroking my finger down the bridge of her nose. "You sound like a beautiful little cricket." I imitate the little noise she makes, hiding my grin.
With a gasp, she rears up. "How dare you!" Her words are challenging, but her voice and her smile tell me she's playing. "Take it back right now."
I nod seriously, a little stunned, looking at her. A button has come undone on her top, exposing the v of her cleavage. Her breasts are loose, moving in her top. I've spent a lot of time thinking about Janey's breasts. I want to know what they feel like, what they taste like.
And I really want to know what they look like.
I watch movies. I've seen breasts. But they were just body parts, for the most part. My body reacted to them. I'd jack off to them sometimes. But my brain wasn't engaged.
It is now.
Everything I am is focused on Janey. On wanting Janey. I meet her laughing eyes. "I don't think lying to you is a good way to start our marriage. If it's any consolation, you only occasionally make big snorting noises."
Her shriek of outrage is followed by her attack. She grabs her unused pillow and proceeds to hit me with it. Laughing, I rear up, grab it from her hand, and throw it across the room. She looks stunned for a minute, then dives at me. I raise my hands to catch her shoulder and realize my mistake immediately.
I left my sides exposed.
