I tried to pull away, but he kept after me, like he wanted—needed—every fucking drop. He held my gaze as he took down the last of what I had to offer, then slowly pulled off me and tugged my sweats back up. He collapsed next to me, both of us completely fucked out for several breaths.
Finally, he tucked in against my heated body, and I was once again his snuggly big spoon.
Merry Christmas, indeed.
We swam in and out of sleep for a while, cozy and warm and trying to forget that the world was just outside our door. At least I tried to forget.
I had no idea what was going on in his head.
My physical needs finally forced me out of bed and into the bathroom, where I left the door open. Jesse shifted, and I felt his eyes on me as I pissed, then washed my hands and brushed my teeth.
I heard his devious chuckle and bit back a grin, rinsing out my mouth as I waited for his next move. I could tell by the way he strutted into the bathroom that he had the knife on him, so I shot out my hand, disarming him with a painless wrist break, then caught the knife before it hit the ground.
Muscle memory was a helluva thing.
Knife in hand, I gave my mouth one more rinse, then arched my brow at him in the mirror.
His expression was a combination of amusement and murder, and fuck if that didn’t get my blood pumping.
I’d left the knife out in the open as a test, though in truth I didn’t know if this constituted a pass or fail. Pretty sure it was going to lead to more orgasms either way.
“How do you like your eggs?” I asked. “There’s bacon, too.”
“Then fry ‘em up in the bacon grease. Over hard, please.”
Itskedand went to the kitchen, where I began putting together a hearty breakfast. Soon, Jesse joined me with a lazy smile.
“Smells fucking delicious,” he said, drifting over to the coffee maker.
He poured two mugs, setting one beside me as I flipped our eggs. The knife was sitting on the counter, and I knew he was going to reach for it before he did.
When his sneaky hand drifted over the counter, I shifted just enough to smack his knuckles with the greasy spatula.
“No touchy,” I growled through a bemused smile.
“Fine.” He pouted, then stole a piece of bacon instead.
Fair.
We sat at the tiny kitchen table, which had a great view of the cove through the picture windows. The snow had stopped but still lay in drifts on the ground.
“Feels like we’ve been dropped onto an alien planet,” he said, cutting up his eggs and bacon together.
“It really does,” I murmured, all too aware of how fleeting this moment was.
There was a bittersweetness to the scene outside. My grandfather would’ve loved this.
Jesse shifted in his chair. “Do you think we should try to go out to the main road and see what’s happening up there?”
“I don’t have the clothing for that,” I admitted. “I didn’t believe the weatherman when he said there was a chance of snow. But we still have electricity, so we can turn on the radio and see what they’re saying.”
That we had both water and electricity was a minor miracle.
Jesse looked around. “Where’s the radio?”
I stood and grabbed the tiny ancient box on top of the refrigerator, then plugged it in and set it on the table between us. He watched as I extended and manipulated the antenna, finally landing on a fuzzy station out of San Angelo.
“Looks like the worst of it will be over by midnight or so, folks. All major highways in the Texas Hill Country will remain closed at least until noon, and local law enforcement is asking people to stay off the road except in emergencies. But get this, Dana,” the weatherman said to the DJ. “The high on Tuesday will be sixty-five.”
