Page 21 of Christmas With the Jerk

I don’t even know what floor we’re on. I don’t care. All I can think about is him—the way his hands roam my body, the way his breath hitches every time I respond to his touch.

The elevator dings softly, signaling our floor, but neither of us moves. It’s like we’re both caught in this magnetic pull, unable to stop. His lips are back on mine, rougher this time, more desperate.

“We should...” I manage between kisses, but my voice trails off when his hand slips to my waist, pulling me flush against him.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, his breath hot against my skin. “We should.”

But we don’t. We stumble out of the elevator, his hand firmly on my back, guiding me toward his room—or is it mine? I quickly pull out the keycard from my back pocket and unlock the door.The second we’re inside, the door slams shut behind us, and everything else fades away.

His body is a wall of heat against mine, pinning me to the door with an urgency that sets my skin on fire. Every inch of me hums with a need I can't remember ever feeling before. It's as if the past few days of tension, of hating and wanting in equal measure, have all come to this single, scorching point.

Thorne's lips find mine with a hunger that devours any lingering exhaustion. His hands roam my body, each touch igniting a fresh wave of endorphins that obliterate any thought beyond the desire for more of him. I'm caught in a storm of sensation, desperate for the closeness only he can provide.

Last night was a frenzy of passion, an act of nature that neither of us could have stopped even if we'd wanted to. But tonight, there's a question in his eyes, a moment of lucidity amidst the chaos. "Protection?" he breathes against my lips.

I shake my head, the word tumbling out in a rush. “Still just the IUD."

It's all the reassurance he needs. His fingers fumble with the button of his jeans, a mirror of my own frantic need to be free of any barriers between us. I tug at the denim, pulling it down over his hips, and the fabric pools at his feet. His shirt follows quickly, the material barely clearing his head before I'm reaching for my own, shedding it like a second skin.

Each piece of clothing that hits the floor is a boundary crossed, a silent agreement that we're past the point of no return. We're stripping away more than fabric—it's vulnerability laid bare, a raw and unfiltered connection that leaves us both exposed.

Naked and unashamed, we're a tangle of limbs moving toward the bed. I jump onto the soft comforter, my body open and eager for him. Thorne crawls over me, his eyes locked on mine as he positions himself at my opening. There's a split second of anticipation before he thrusts into me with an abandon that steals my breath.

The feel of him filling me, stretching me, is overwhelming. He sets a pace that's fast and furious, each stroke of his cock stoking the fire within me. I'm awash in sensation—the slide of our skin, the taste of his kiss, the sound of our bodies moving together in a rhythm as old as time.

His thrusts are deep and deliberate, hitting a spot inside me that sends sparks of pleasure radiating through my body. I arch into him, my fingers digging into his back, as I meet him stroke for stroke.

I can feel the energy building, a coiling tension that threatens to burst. My own hands wander down my body, finding the place where we're joined, the slick evidence of our desire making my touch glide effortlessly. The added stimulation sends me hurtling toward the edge, every nerve ending alight with the promise of release.

Thorne's movements become more erratic, his breathing ragged against my neck. He's as lost in this as I am, driven by a need that transcends logic or reason. It's just us, caught in the throes of passion, chasing the ecstasy that only the other can provide.

EIGHT

Thorne

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas / Everywhere you go.

Thursday, December 21

2:15 am

I wake up with a start,disoriented, tangled up in something soft and warm. My heart pounds for a second, and I blink into the darkness, trying to get my bearings. It takes me a moment to realize where I am—to realize who I’m with.

Fuck. Woodley.

The front of her body is pressed up against mine, her leg draped over me, her hair spilling across the pillow and onto my chest. Her arm is wrapped around my waist, and I can feel her slow, steady breaths against my skin. For a second, I just lie there, trying to process it. How the hell did this happen? Again?!

I know how. Something about being downstairs in that atmosphere, watching her shine in her element going through the slides—it caused me to lose all judgement and be pulled to her like a primal mating call. I couldn’t think of anything except feeling her against me again.

I shift slightly, careful not to wake her, and I feel a twinge of discomfort. Bathroom. Right. I need to go.

Carefully, I untangle myself from her and slip out of bed, my feet hitting the cool floor. I pause for a second, standing there in the dark, trying to remember which room I’m in. It’s Woodley’s room.

I rub the sleep from my eyes, shaking my head as I head to the bathroom. I’m so angry with myself for letting this happen. Once can be written off, ignored and disappeared. But twice? That becomes a lot more tricky.

Inside the bathroom, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, the dim light casting shadows across my face. My hair’s a mess, and I look as disoriented as I feel.

I splash some water on my face, trying to shake off the drowsiness. But even as I stand there, I can’t stop thinking about her—about the way she felt wrapped around me, the warmth of her body next to mine.

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