I can’t see straight, let alone speak, so I say nothing as I come down from the high, blissed out and euphorically limp. All the while Jay never stops working.
He kisses my mouth, rolling us over so I’m on my back and he’s between my thighs. There’s no hesitating, he fills me—harder than I expect—and positions my bent knees to his biceps as his face lowers toward mine.
“This how you thought it would be?” he asks, low voiced as he drives in and out of me.
“Better,” I say with a breathy laugh as I raise my face to kiss his, missing the first time from the rocking of our bodies. “This is better.”
He smirks and doubles down. I don’t count the thrusts, the heartbeats, or the number of breaths later as he comes and brings me right along with him—again—but it happens with a hard slam, clenched teeth, and his magnificent body wracked with tension.
It is sublime ecstasy.
We lie in his bed, tangled in sheets and around each other, and he strokes my bare back as I prop my chin on his chest as both our hearts pound. The Christmas lights from outside glow through the window, mesmerizing me. Jay loves Christmas. Jay is good.
“What are you thinking, Hollis the Writer?” he asks, teasingly satisfied as he looks down at me from his pillow-propped chest.
“Hm.” I drag a thumb across his ridiculous mustache, both of us smiling. “I’m wondering why you like Christmas the way you do?”
“Ah.” He nibbles my thumb before pulling it away from his mouth and interlacing it with his. “I always loved Christmas. People are nicer. More reasons to have fun. Older I got, the more it felt like a competition of busyness. Rushing and to-do lists. Rolling eyes as they talked about all the parties and events theyhadto attend with ajust get through the holidaysmentality. And after I left the firm, it made things strained with my dad for a while.” His fingers dance down my spine. “This will probablyshock you, but being forty with a relationship status of ‘had a girl he couldn’t keep and lives in a camper’ doesn’t exactly lend itself to smooth sailing at large gatherings.” I laugh softly, and he smiles. “Either way, when the time I loved started to feel like a chore, I met Marv. My holidays became better. Easier. More laughs and lessThank God that’s over.”
“And the girl you didn’t marry?” I ask.
“The girl I didn’t marry didn’t like all this. Said she fell in love with a lawyer with a house, not a brewer with a camper. After that”—he shrugs—“dating has been casual. Simple.”
That word hangs between us—simple. That’s not what I am. I have four kids.
“I admire you,” I admit.
“Yeah?” he says, drawing lines on my back. “Why’s that?”
I shrug against him, releasing my fingers from his and dancing them across his bare chest. “You just do what you want. You’re, I don’t know, brave in a way I’ve never been. Happy no matter what.”
“Hm.” He traces my eyebrows with his finger, mustache twitching. “Is this about the bake sales you’ve decided you hate?”
I still, blink, then bite back a smile as I slap his chest, making him grunt through a laugh. “You’ve been reading my articles.”
“If I say yes?”
“You have.” I prop myself up on my elbows as an amused expression overtakes Jay’s face. “And?”
“And what?”
“And…” I’m instantly self-conscious. I know what I’ve written—every single one this season has mentioned our time together. I trace a figure eight on his chest. “What do you think?”
He grabs my hand with his, stopping my movements. “I think you’re a beautiful writer.”
No surprise, I swoon, pressing my nose against his chest to hide the giddy smile on my face.
“Of course,” he says, causing me to look at him as he strokes his mustache. “My personal favorite was your analysis of the pear tree and reading about all thejoyyou experienced on Thanksgiving.”
“Asshole.” I poke him in the ribs making him mimic the motion, both of us laughing. “That was about something else.”
“Uh-huh,” he says. “I have video evidence now, Hollis. Marv’s sniffer was onto something.”
I let out an embarrassed giggle and start to pull away, but he holds me firm.
Laughter turns to a kiss turns to touches, mouths, and him sliding into me and me crying his name out all over again.
The next morning, with blankets wrapped around us like we wrap around each other, we sit in onechair under his awning, drinking my favorite cup of coffee to date.
