Page 10 of Christmas With the Jerk

Woodley.

She’s staring at me now, her face inches away, that familiar edge in her eyes replaced with something softer, something Ihaven’t seen before. The air between us, while still hot as hell, also crackles with electricity. The cool air blowing in through the cracked windows create dueling sensations, hot and cold, intensifying the pull.

Maybe all of this has made me lose my mind.

Even though I actually can't stand her normally, there is a part of me that has mad respect for her. She’s everything I’m not—driven, disciplined, impossible to rattle.

She’s the kind of person who works for every inch of progress, while, for the most part, I’ve been given opportunity after opportunity. But standing here, close enough to feel the heat of her skin, the animosity we’ve had for each other feels irrelevant. It’s late, we’re miles from anywhere, and maybe a little roll in the hay is exactly what this shitty trip needs to get us through.

Without thinking myself out of it, I lean in.

My hand finds her waist, resting lightly at first, almost testing. Her breath catches, her eyes widening just for a second before she exhales, and that’s all the permission I need. I press my lips to hers, the kiss slow at first, almost tentative. But then she responds, her body leaning into mine, and suddenly, nothing else matters.

She’s softer than I expected, her lips moving against mine in a way that sends a shock of hunger for her through my entire body. My hand tightens on her waist, pulling her closer, and I can feel the way her breath hitches as her chest presses against me. The room is hot, unbearably so, but it’s not the heat from the thermostat that’s doing this to me—it’s her.

Everything about this feels wrong. It’s Woodley, the woman who’s been pushing my buttons since the day we met. The onewho somehow sees through all my bullshit even though we barely know each other. But right now, the way she’s kissing me back, the way her body feels under my hands, I don’t care. Because all I want is her.

I slide my hand up her back, fingers brushing against the thin fabric of her shirt, and she shivers. The reaction sends a jolt of adrenaline through me. I’m all in now—kissing her deeper, my other hand finding the small of her back, pulling her flush against me. She lets out a soft gasp, and it’s like something inside me snaps.

The world outside this motel room ceases to exist. There’s no bomb at the airport, no looming pitch in Boston, no reason we should be at each other’s throats. There’s just this—her, here, with me. I know I shouldn’t want this, but I do. God, I do.

I pull back just enough to look at her, my breath coming in short, uneven bursts. Her eyes are half-lidded, lips slightly parted, and there’s a look of pure, unguarded need in her expression that makes my heart pound harder.

“Woodley...” I murmur, my voice rougher than I expected.

She doesn’t respond, but she doesn’t have to. The way she’s looking at me says everything.

I lean back in, this time with more urgency, kissing her harder, deeper. My hand moves to her hip, fingers curling around her, and I can feel the way she arches against me, like she can’t get close enough. Her hands find my shoulders, gripping me tight, and every barrier we’ve built between us crumbles all at once.

The kiss is heated, desperate, every nerve in my body firing on all cylinders. I can’t think straight anymore. All I can feel is her—her warmth, her softness, the way she’s letting herself go in thismoment. It’s all-consuming, this need to feel more, to erase the space between us completely.

But then something in me pulls back. Reality crashes through the haze of heat, reminding me that this is wrong on so many levels. I stop, my forehead resting against hers, both of us breathing hard.

“What the hell are we doing?” I whisper, more to myself than to her.

She clears her throat but doesn't say anything. I can feel her breath against my skin, shaky and unsteady. I don’t want to stop. I want to lose myself in this, in her, but the moment stretches out, the weight of it settling between us.

I can't help myself, and I don't want to try to stop anymore. The taste of her lips is intoxicating, igniting a fire within me that threatens to burn down every last vestige of common sense I have left. My hands are on her, tugging at her shirt, her skin hot beneath my palms. She's kissing me back with the same fervor, our bodies moving together in a desperate dance as we fumble our way towards the bed.

We're a tangle of limbs and heated breaths, our clothes becoming an afterthought, a hindrance to the raw, animalistic need that's taken over. My shirt hits the floor, followed swiftly by hers, and the sight of her—pale skin flushed with desire, chest heaving—makes my throat tighten with want.

I press her down onto the mattress, our bodies aligning perfectly as I claim her mouth again and again. Her fingers are in my hair, nails scratching lightly against my scalp, sending shivers down my spine. I grind against her, the friction exquisite, and she lets out a gasp that goes straight to my groin.

"Thorne," she moans, and the sound of my name on her lips nearly undoes me. “I have an IUD.”

I trail kisses down her neck, nipping at the sensitive skin there, and she arches into me, her body begging for more. My hands explore her, relearning the curves and dips of her form as I shed the rest of her clothes with frantic, uncoordinated movements.

She's just as eager, her fingers working at my belt, yanking it open with a fierceness that makes me grin against her skin. We're wild, untamed, and I've never felt more alive.

I slip a hand between her legs, groaning at the wet heat that greets me. She's ready, so damn ready, and I can't wait any longer. With a swift, sure motion, I enter her, and we both cry out, the sensation overwhelming. She's tight, so tight, and the feel of her surrounding me is almost too much to bear.

We move together, each thrust deeper, harder, faster than the last. It's frenzied, almost frantic, our bodies chasing a pleasure that's just out of reach. Her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me impossibly closer, and I drive into her again and again, lost in the rhythm of our coupling.

"Yes, God, yes," she pants, her voice ragged, and I feel her tighten around me, her climax building.

I brace myself on one arm, using the other to tilt her head back, exposing her neck to my hungry mouth. I bite down gently on the tender flesh, and she shatters beneath me, her body convulsing with the force of her orgasm. The sensation of her contracting around me pushes me over the edge, and with a guttural yell, I follow her into oblivion.

We lay there, spent and breathless, our bodies still intimately joined. The room is silent save for our mingled gasps for air, and the gusts of wind and snow circling outside our window.

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