“Angel.”He frames my face with his hands and kisses me gently. “Being with you makes everything better.” Then he kisses me again. “And I have to say, the drawing you gave me? It’s amazing. Seeing your artwork before, I knew you were talented. But the way you captured Murphy… It’s magical. I can’t think of a better way to describe it.”
Pride fills my chest. For years, my artwork has only been for me and Haley. So hearing that someone else likes it, someone as important as Ronan, makes me feel all warm inside. “I’m so glad you liked it,” I say.
“Iloveit,” Ronan emphasizes. “Not liked. Love.”
“I was thinking,” I start, “maybe I could do one of you and your friends. So you could have something to put on the wall in the GMG headquarters. Unless you think that would be silly?—”
“Silly?” His brows jump up. “It wouldn’t be silly at all. Everyone would love that.”
The warm feeling in my chest expands. “Okay. I’ll start working on it after Christmas.”
“There’s no rush,” Ronan is quick to reply. “With everything else you’ve been dealing with, and your arm—” The muscles in his jaw flex. “I think you should take some time to relax.”
“I didn’t hurt the arm I use to draw with,” I point out. “And sitting in front of my easel”—I smile, because that was one of the things Ronan gave me—“isn’t exactly hard work.”
“Still.” Ronan lifts me onto his lap and readjusts the fleece blanket we’ve been cuddling under. “I don’t like you pushing yourself too hard. In fact.” His expression turns thoughtful. “Maybe you shouldn’t go back to work next week. I’m sure Frank would understand.”
“The doctor said it’ll be fine as long as I don’t carry anything heavy. I just won’t take any big tables to start. Only two and four-tops. And I won’t use the big trays. I’ll just make extra trips from the kitchen.” I trace the worried lines running across his forehead. “And I need money. Frank’s been great about covering my hourly wage, but without the tips?—”
“I can help. You know I don’t mind.”
“I know. But I like working.” Glancing back at the Christmas tree, I gaze at the twinkling lights. Somehow, they feel more magical this year than any of the rest. “I never told you what Haley said. Yesterday morning.”
“Oh, right.” Ronan smiles. “What did she say?”
“She told me that it was okay for you to sleep in my bedroom. Since she had Murphy to keep her company. She said you would keep me from being lonely.”
Last night, we were both so tired after everything, Ronan and I stayed in my bedroom without really discussing it. We’d been sitting in bed, watching the end ofLove Actually, and next thing I knew it was five AM and Ronan was fast asleep beside me. From there, it was a frenzy of getting everything ready, and I never got a chance to tell Ronan what Haley said.
“She said that?” Ronan asks. “That she’s okay with it?”
“She did,” I affirm. “Which got me thinking…” I put my hand under the blanket and rest it between his legs. “Since we’re sharing the same bed, maybe we could do something else, too.”
“Something else?” He swells beneath my hand. “Something else, like what?”
“Like one more Christmas present.” I press my lips to his. “One just for us.”
Desire darkens his gaze. “A present for us?” Then he flicks a look in the direction of the stairs. “But Haley.”
“After all the excitement of today, she’s out for the rest of the night. And we can lock the door, just in case.”
I can see the conflict in his eyes. “You don’t think we’d disturb her?”
“Not if we’re quiet.”
“What about your arm? It’s still not completely healed.”
With my good hand, I stroke his growing erection. “I think one arm will be enough. Unless you don’t want?—”
Still holding me, Ronan stands abruptly. The blanket falls to the floor. He lifts me high against his chest and kisses me hard. “I want.” His pupils dilate. “Oh, trust me. I want.”
He carries me upstairs like it’s nothing, and when he sets me on the bed, he’s not even breathing hard. Then he just stands beside the mattress and stares down at me as emotion works in his eyes.
Quietly, roughly, he says, “You’re so damn gorgeous, cupcake. Somehow, you keep surprising me with it.”
My breath catches.
In the darkened bedroom, with the light from the hallway framing his body, Ronan looks like one of those sculptures I learned about in art history class—tall and broad and his features like carved stone.
