The room felt warm, close, filled with the sound of our breathing and the soft creak of the bed. Outside the window, snow was falling—I could see the flakes drifting past in the lamplight—but in here, we were burning.
"Jason." I pulled him down into a kiss. "You feel so good."
"Yeah?" He was breathless, his movements getting less coordinated, more desperate. "Because I'm about to—I can't—"
"Jason." I tightened my grip on his hips. "Look at me."
That did it. He came with my name on his lips, his whole body shuddering against mine, and the sight and sound of it pushed me over the edge right after him.
For a long moment we lay there, tangled together, both breathing hard. Then Jason lifted his head and looked at me, and his smile was bright and wondering and slightly dazed.
"I'm pretty sure that's not in any of your books," he said.
I laughed, breathless. "No. Definitely not part of my usual genre."
"Should be." He was grinning now. "Though coming in our jeans like teenagers probably wouldn't fit the sophisticated thriller aesthetic."
I kissed him softly. "No complaints from me."
"None from me either." He settled against my chest, his glasses slightly askew. "Though we should probably clean up."
"Yeah." I didn't want to move, but we were both a mess"Shower? Together?"
His smile was soft, a little shy despite what we'd just done. "If you want."
We stumbled to the bathroom, stripping off dirty jeans, and the shower was too small but neither of us cared. We took turns under the spray, washing each other with quiet touches that were more tender than heated. When we finally made it back to bed, clean and exhausted, Jason curled into my side without hesitation.
"This okay?" he asked.
"More than okay."
He was quiet for a long moment, his breathing evening out. Then he burrowed closer with a contented sigh. "Night, Brent."
"Night, Jason."
I lay awake for a while after he fell asleep, listening to him breathe, feeling the weight of him against my side. My phonewas buzzing on the nightstand—probably my agent, probably my publicist, probably everyone who wanted something from me.
But for the first time in months, I didn't care.
All I cared about was the man sleeping in my arms and the feeling that, somehow, I'd stumbled into something real. Something that mattered more than deadlines or expectations or keeping up appearances.
Something worth fighting for.
Chapter 6
Jason
I woke up warm and happy, with Brent's arm still around me.
Day six. Two days left.
For a moment I lay there, listening to him breathe, feeling the solid weight of him against my back. Watching the morning sun come through the curtains, painting everything in soft gold. Outside, another layer of fresh snow covered the trees, the world hushed and white. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt this content.
This peaceful.
Thisright.
Brent stirred behind me, his arm tightening briefly before he seemed to realize where he was. He went still and I wondered if he was having second thoughts. If waking up together in the clear light of day was going to make everything awkward.
