Page 48 of A Christmas Mystery

I reach up to rub his slightly scratchy jaw with my palm. “What do you want, Theo?”

“I think I want something similar to you. I’ve never been particularly ambitious for money or power or success. I want to do good in the world. Help the people I can. And I want to feel like part of a community. And I want...” His voice breaks slightly. “And I want someone to go through life with too.”

We gaze at each other for a long time, and I think we would have started kissing had someone walking by not jostled me in the back.

I glance behind me, surprised by the abrupt break in the emotional tension between me and Theo. He gently draws me out of the way of the passersby. Then he leans over and picks up a napkin that somehow fell out of my pocket and a small bag that slipped out of my hand as we were talking. He tucks the napkin back into the correct pocket and then takes my second shopping bag out of my hand so he can carry it for me with the first one.

“I think Paige has organized a craft display outside the coffee shop,” he says in a different tone after he’s collected what I dropped. “You want to check it out?”

Nine

AFEW HOURS LATER WE’REkissing on my couch.

Really kissing.

He’s leaning back, angled diagonally with one of his legs bent up on the middle cushion and the other foot planted on the floor. And I’m sprawled shamelessly on top of him.

He’s been hard in his jeans for several minutes now, but he’s not pushing us forward toward a particular destination. His hands are moving all over my body, and his tongue is deep in my mouth. He’s definitely tense. Just as into our embrace as I am. But it’s more like he’s reveling in every touch than demanding even more.

I’ve never known anyone else with that kind of patience.

In truth, I’ve never been with any man other than Chris. He was my first, and I haven’t kissed or had sex with anyone since him. Chris was always gentle, but he also eagerly initiated each next move. He made things happen every time we were together intimately, and I always loved being with him.

But this is different. Entirely new.

The freedom and the power of it is as scary as it is exciting.

He’s never articulated it directly, but I know it’s true. Theo is always holding himself in check.

Waiting for me.

But he’s not frustrated or impatient about it. He’s loving this as much as I am. He makes a lot of low, sensual moans as I rub against him, when I caress his skin under his T-shirt.

He took off his jacket and sweater when he got here, and we both took off our shoes. I hiked my skirt up to my hips to free my legs so I can straddle his thighs and get more friction where I need it.

“Theo,” I mumble against his mouth, one of my hands tucked under his shirt so I can stroke his chest.

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