Page 32 of Christmas With the Jerk

I laugh. “Good call.”

There’s a brief pause, the weight of what we just did still lingering between us. But it doesn’t feel awkward this time. It feels natural. Like this is where we’re supposed to be right now.

If I were to make a wager, I think she wants to stay here with me just as much as I don’t want her to leave.

I turn to her, my voice low. “You wanna join me in the shower before we get ready?”

She raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “You mean, get ready before we get ready?”

I grin. “Exactly. Water conservation, of course.”

She shakes her head, but I can see the amusement in her eyes. “Fine, but no hanky-panky.”

With that, I throw the covers off and slide out of bed, feeling the cool air hit my skin. I glance back at her, watching as she pushes the blankets aside and follows me.

As we step into the bathroom together, the tension of the last few days, the pressure of the pitch, it all fades away. For now, it’s just the two of us, and for once, everything feels like it’s falling into place.

I step into the shower, the hot water cascading over me, washing away the remnants of sleep and the lingering tension from the previous night. The steam fills the room, fogging up the mirror and turning the world outside into a distant memory. I close my eyes, letting the warmth envelop me, but the solitude doesn't last long.

The glass door opens, and Woodley slips in, her body a vision against the backdrop of the fogged-up tiles. Her dark auburn hair is pinned up, tendrils escaping to cling to the nape of her neck. She looks at me with those hazel eyes, flecks of gold sparkling with a mischievous light.

Without a word, she moves past me, her hand brushing against my chest, sending a jolt of electricity straight to my core. She positions herself in front of the bench, the water running down her back, tracing the curves of her spine, the dip of her waist, and the swell of her hips.

I can't help but stare, my gaze trailing over her body, taking in the sight of her. She's all soft skin and supple curves, her full ass a tantalizing invitation. I step closer, the heat of her bodymingling with the steam, creating a heady atmosphere that's impossible to resist.

She places one foot on the bench, her stance wide and inviting. Her hands press against the tile wall, her fingers splayed, her back arched. It's an image of pure, unadulterated sex appeal, and it's all for me.

I move behind her, my hands finding her waist, my fingers digging into the soft flesh. I can feel her shiver under my touch, despite the heat of the water. I lean in, my chest pressing against her back, my lips finding the curve of her neck. She tilts her head, giving me better access, her breath hitching as I nip at her skin.

With one hand, I guide myself to her entrance, the water making her slick and ready. I tease her for a moment, the tip of me just barely inside her, before I thrust forward, burying myself to the hilt. She gasps, her fingers clawing at the tiles, her body rocking forward with the force of my entry.

I start to move, my grip on her waist tightening, my other hand sliding up her body to cup her breast. I can feel her heart pounding under my palm, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

She's moaning now, her voice echoing off the walls, mixing with the sound of the water and the slap of our bodies coming together.

I drive into her again and again, each thrust harder and deeper than the last. The sight of her, the feel of her, it's all too much. I'm lost in the sensation, my mind spinning, my body moving on instinct alone.

Her curves fit perfectly against me, her ass bouncing against my hips with every thrust. I can feel the tension building inside her, her body tensing, her moans growing louder. I reach around, my fingers finding her clit, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves, pushing her closer and closer to the edge.

She's close, I can tell, her body trembling, her breath coming in ragged gasps. I fuck her harder, faster, my own release barreling towards me like a freight train. And then she's there, her body convulsing, her scream echoing around us as she comes, her inner walls clamping down around me, milking me, pulling me over the edge with her.

I explode inside her, my vision blurring, my body shaking with the force of my orgasm. I hold her close, my face buried in her neck, my breath hot against her skin. We stay like that for a moment, neither of us willing to break the connection, the water still pouring down around us, washing away everything but this perfect, stolen moment.

11:22am

I walknext door to Woodley’s room, knocking softly but firmly. We’ve got twenty-five minutes until the video conference starts. Plenty of time to get set up and iron out any last-minute details.

The door opens a crack, and Woodley peeks out, one side of her hair still slightly damp from the shower. “Hey,” she says, stepping aside to let me in. “I’m almost ready.”

I nod, stepping inside and taking in the room. It looks more organized than mine, which is no surprise. There’s a desk by thewindow where she’s clearly set up for the meeting, her laptop already open, a glass of water on the side.

“Take your time,” I say, moving over to the desk to start setting up my own laptop. I’ve been over the presentation so many times, but I still can’t shake the nerves. Even with the weather, the video conference feels like our shot to save this pitch. Everything’s ready. Or at least, it should be.

Woodley disappears into the bathroom for a moment, and I sit down, flipping open my laptop. The screen blinks to life, and I pull up the video conference link Thom sent us earlier. I hit “connect” but nothing happens. The Wi-Fi icon at the bottom of the screen is flashing. No connection.

Frowning, I check my phone’s signal—full bars. But the laptop? Nothing. I try again, clicking the Wi-Fi icon, but it refuses to connect.

“Damn it,” I mutter under my breath.

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