“I think we all want that,” she said, voice husky with tiredness. “To be known. Only we’re too scared to show our real selves.”
“I want to see all of you, Libby.”
“Um, mission accomplished?” Laughing, she rolled away before he could administer the tickling that remark deserved.
“You know what I mean.”
“I do.” She settled back against him, head resting on his shoulder. Her hand covered his heart. “I couldn’t help showing myself to you. It slipped out.”
Maybe that was how it worked. Some people fit each other like a lock and key. Hadn’t he sensed from the minute he met Libby that she could get under his skin? The unraveling was a steady progression from that point to this.
It didn’t mean it would be easy, or that they’d figured out how or where they’d see each other next. For now, it was enough for Jefferson to know they both wanted to try. That was a hope you could build on, one day at a time.
Morning light filtered through the blinds. A whole new day with Libby. He felt like his pockets were filled with gold. Or would have been, if he were wearing pants.
She fed him another bite of malasada. “What are you thinking about, Pensive McPenserson?”
He considered not telling her, in case it ruined the mood, but Jefferson had forgotten how to hold back when it came to Libby. “I was thinking this would be my Me-mas.”
“Here? In this apartment?” She lowered her voice like the building might resent her incredulous tone.
“You’re happy. I’m happy. We’re together.” Three ways of saying the same thing, but it was worth repeating.
“And we have donuts.”
“What more could you want out of life?”
Libby thought it over. “I don’t know.”
“See?”
“I do see.” She ran a finger down the center of his chest. “You’re covered in sugar. Again.” Shaking her head in mock-disappointment, Libby shifted so she was kneeling above him.
He closed his eyes as her tongue flicked over his skin. Cheek and then jaw, the hollow beneath his collarbone, a little lower.
“Right there?” he asked. “Are you sure?”
“This nipple is practically glazed,” she assured him. “Oops, missed a spot.”
Jefferson slowly returned to earth, watching Libby sit up and reach for her donut.
“You know you’re ruining my brand,” she said.
“I don’t see how. Unless your brand is not licking people?”
“I’m supposed to be tragic. A hot mess.”
“One out of three isn’t bad.” Jefferson’s hand moved over her hip in a light caress. How was her skin this soft? Maybe it was the air here. “You’ll have to spin it.”
She took a bite of the pastry before pulling off another piece for him. “How about this?After a wild night with my hot outdoorsy boyfriend who is super-fit from hiking through the woods, I like to refuel with fried carbs and sugar.”
“Nice. You could throw in a fashion tip.”
“Such as?”
He touched the pearl at her throat. “Jewelry looks better with bare skin.”
“Maybe not super-practical in all climates.”
