We say good night and Jasper joins me under the blanket. With his added height, it doesn’t go all the way around him the way it did for Gwen. He makes a little sound of dismay that has me biting my lip to hold in laughter. The warmth of the blanket disappears and then returns as he rearranges it to cover both of us properly. I think he’s going to leave his arm pressed against mine, but he wraps it around me.
I’m grateful for the silence that follows as I have a mild inner freakout at our proximity. The freakout intensifies when Jasper’s warm, solid hand slides further around me and settles on my hip. I want to angle toward him so he’s holding me properly, but I content myself with resting my head on his shoulder.
“Did I hear you calling Gwen ‘Cupid’?” he asks. “Does she think you and Liam would be a good match? I can attempt to set you two up if you’d like. He’s single, and he seemed quite taken with you at dinner.”
A war between laughter and tears rages inside me. I want to laugh because Jasper is so clueless. And I want to cry becausehowis Jasper so fucking clueless?How?The war stretches into wondering if I should go along with his assumption and let him think Iwastalking about Liam. I’ve never been one to play games, though. It’s one thing to keep my feelings to myself; it’s another thing entirely to outright lie. This is my opportunity. Despite telling Gwen I would wait, this chance has been handed to me and everything inside me is urging me to take it. And praying it doesn’t end in disaster.
“Actually…” The word comes out shaky, so I clear my throat and try again. “I meant that Gwen was playing Cupid for you and me.”
At Jasper’s silence, I pull back to peer at his face. Confusion flits over his features, followed by understanding, and then surprise, all in quick succession. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, even though I can practically see the wheels turning in his mind as that big ol’ brain of his pieces things together.
Just in case he’s still leaning on the side of clueless, I decide to make things perfectly clear. “I like you, Jasper. A lot. And I don’t just mean as a friend, although you’ve become one of my closest friends in a very short amount of time. It’s more than that for me, though. Don’t you know that by now?”
His continued silence makes me squirmy. I have to fight the urge to either run inside or give him a gentle shove and hope some words fall out.
Finally, in a whisper-soft voice, he says, “I had…hoped?” He clears his throat and swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing at my eye level. “I’m not very good at this, Willow. I figured I was misreading signals and seeing what I wanted to see…”
“Well, let me clear things up for you.” I turn to face him, the blanket slipping from my shoulders. His fingers go limp, causing the blanket to fall to the ground where it pools around our feet. I grip his shoulders and lift up on my toes, putting my face level with his, our mouths only inches apart. I wait, giving him a chance to move his head aside or step away from me. When neither of those things happen, I inch closer and brush my lips against his, just the barest touch.
He sucks in a sharp breath. That, paired with the way his hands clutch at my hips, is all I need. I press my lips to his, harder this time. I nearly expire on the spot when his tongue sweeps over my bottom lip. My lips part, fingers digging into his shoulders as our tongues meet and entwine. He tastes like the wine we were drinking, paired with a hint of the apple crumble he had for dessert.
I don’t even realize I’m all but devouring Jasper until he pulls back slightly, placing soft kisses on and around my lips. With a sigh, I press myself closer, releasing my vice-like grip on his shoulders, and sliding my hands up his neck and into his hair. This seems to do something to him because he releases a quiet moan and deepens the kiss once more, pulling me even closer.
I’m dazed and wobbly when our lips part, as if I’m coming out of a deep, dream-filled sleep. His hands remain on my hips, holding me steady. My eyes open slowly to find his dark, serious gaze studying my face. With his kiss-swollen lips and disheveled hair—both courtesy of me—he’s the sexiest damn thing I’ve ever seen. I remember our first encounter and how, despite not being my type, I thought I wouldn’t mind mussing up this prim and proper man. Who knew how incredibly wrong I’d be about Jasper Perry not being my type.
“Willow,” he says, his rough voice sending shivers across my heated skin. “Let’s go inside.”
Disappointment rushes through me. “Oh. Yeah, I guess we should, it’s getting cold out.”
Jasper’s hands drop from my waist and he takes a step back. “I meant…I thought…”
“What?”
Normally, flustered Jasper is one of my favorite versions of Jasper. Right now, though, with his deep blush and the way he can’t seem to figure out what to do with his hands, it makes me want to reach for him and calm his nerves.
“I got swept up in the moment and was being presumptuous,” he says. “I was thinking about something my brother said earlier about being impulsive and throwing caution to the wind and—” He flaps his hands between us before shoving them in his pockets. “But we’ve only just kissed and it’s too soon to…to even think…argh.” He pulls his hands from his pockets and covers his face. This whole thing would be adorable if he didn’t appear to be in genuine distress.
He jumps when my fingers circle his wrists to gently pry his hands from his face. “Jasper.” I kiss him lightly, keeping my eyes open enough to see his eyes go wide. “Did you mean you wanted to go upstairs? Together?” His mouth opens as if to speak, yet no words come out. I take a step closer and grip the front of his sweater, pulling him to me and covering his mouth with mine. That seems to shake him from his stupor. He responds immediately, kissing me back with fervor as one hand cups the back of my head and the other grips my shoulder.
I break the kiss, still clutching the front of his shirt. “Do you want to go upstairs?”
“I do,” he says without hesitation.
I scoop up our fallen blanket from the porch before taking Jasper’s hand and following him inside. It’s dark except for a faint light glowing over the stove. Jasper locks the door to the porch, and then tells me to stay put while he makes sure the rest of the house is locked up. For a moment I think he’s stalling, giving himself time to think of a polite way to back out of this without hurting my feelings. Then I remember this is Jasper. A man who knows my fears—the extra locks on my apartment door, my aversion to the dark—and the fact he’s doing a sweep of the house makes me want him even more.
When he returns, he takes my hand again. The stairwell is dark and there are no lights coming from upstairs, so Jasper pulls out his phone and turns on the flashlight app. Without speaking, we both instinctively turn for my room since it’s the furthest from Evan and Gwen’s.
At my door, he pauses and whispers, “Do you have a nightlight?”
I point to the bedside table. “I only got as far as getting it out of my bag.”
He ushers me into the room and closes the door before passing me his phone with the flashlight still on. In a few quick strides, he’s across the room, turning on the bedside lamp and searching for a place to plug in the nightlight. I’ve wandered over to the bed by the time he returns to take the phone from me.
When I reach to shut off the lamp, Jasper takes my hand. “Leave it on. I want to see you.”
Oh.So this is really happening. We’re doing this. Apart from trying not to swoon over Jasper’s thoughtfulness these last few minutes, my mind has been mostly blank. I’ve been afraid Logical Jasper would make an appearance and say it’s too soon for us to have sex. We haven’t known each other long, we haven’t talked about our feelings for one another.
As if reading my thoughts, Jasper sits on the edge of the bed and pats the space beside him. “Are you sure about this, Willow? I know this is all happening rather fast and if you want to talk about it first—”
