Jasper glances at the cover of his book. “It’s uh…”
“Is it for school?”
“Actually, no.” Okay, blushing. Why is Jasper being coy about his book? “It’s a romance book. Well, a fantasy actually—a fantasy with romance in it.”
“A romantasy?” I ask.
“Yeah, I guess. But with lots of battles and swords and dragons,” he says, increasingly flummoxed. “It’s pretty lame.” He quickly deposits the book on his nightstand.
“Sounds fun.”
My shoulder blades press against the headboard and we both sit quietly for a minute, like we’re waiting for something to happen, or for the other to make the first move. Should I kiss him? Hold his hand? Ask him about the plot of his novel? The silence is suddenly deafening and I long for the buzz of cicadas, the chirp of crickets, a damn coyote howl, anything to break this awkward silence.
Suddenly we both erupt at the same time:
“We don’t have to—”
“Is it okay if we don’t—”
We turn to face each other, laughing a little at how awkward we’re being. I can’t help but sigh with just a smidge of relief. Jasper runs a hand through his hair. I guess he’s feeling the pressure as well.
“It’s not that I don’t want to…” he begins, struggling with eye contact but forcing himself to meet my gaze. “I do.” He places his hand on mine. “I really do.”
“Same,” I interject swiftly. “I definitely want to.” We both huff a little laugh. “It’s just our first night out here and…”
“Let’s not rush,” he says, lifting his free hand to cup my face. “We have forever.”
His lips find mine and he kisses me slowly, tenderly. “Is this okay?” he asks, pulling back for just a moment.
“Very,” I say, and go back in for more.
We slip down the headboard and roll onto our sides, kissing all the while. His body is super firm under my touch. My hand slips over his waist onto his back, pulling him a little closer. He slips one hand up under my T-shirt, making me gasp gently. My body is telling me not to wait, screw patience, but my mind is telling me this is enough, more than enough. I’m out in the desert, alone with Jasper Apollo, and we’re making out under the covers. Through the ceiling the stars are shining down like the souls of every wolf who’s ever existed. And we’re together, connected like never before. I don’t need anything more––for now, this is absolute freaking bliss.
After a while, Jasper pulls back. His eyes remain closed and his tongue slips along his bottom lip, as if he’s savoring the taste of me.
“I could do that all night,” he says, his eyes fluttering open ever so slightly.
“Me too.”
“Buuuutwe should get some sleep.”
“Yeah.”
“Big day tomorrow.”
“Is it?” I ask. I didn’t know we had plans beyond more of this.
“Mm-hmm,” he purrs. “Tomorrow we run.”
I don’t know what Jasper means but before I have time to ask he’s kissing me again, his thumb playing with my earlobe, his feet tangled up in mine.
“Good night, Max,” he says, pulling back with a sharp inhale.
“Good night.”
He wipes the hair from my brow as if he needs a clearer view to study my face, then he kisses my forehead. I spin around so that his arm is draped around me, pulling my back against his chest, and drift off almost immediately.
Rested is an understatement. I wake up the next morning feeling fresher than a newly sprouted spring flower. Sure, it takes a moment or two for me to open my eyes—the bed covers, pillows, and mattress are so soft and warm, and they envelop me in such an amazing way I could probably lie here forever—but eventually the smell of brewing coffee rouses me. I sit up, stretching my arms over my head and yawning. Jasper’s side of the bed is empty but an indentation in the pillow sits where his head would have rested last night, and the sheets are still warm.
