Page 42 of Take Me Home for Christmas

That was when I swatted him again with another pillow to knock some sense into him. And for some comic relief, because, man, we could’ve surely used some.

“Would you stop with the pillows already?” He sounded a little irritated as he sat down and grabbed me by the arms, causing the upcoming pillow to hit the floor with apffft.

His hands were warm, his grip firm. And his gaze was drilling into mine in a way that raised goose bumps on my arms.

“You know what I hate the most?” Even as I spoke, I was getting lost in his eyes. He was so intense, so conflicted, so loveable. The opposite of what he thought he was. I didn’t see a person unworthy of love. I saw someone full of it. “You didn’t give me a chance to decide about us,” I said. “You decided for me.”

“It was an easy decision,” he said stubbornly. “I don’t know how to…how to do this.”

“How to have sex?” I feigned a puzzled look, desperate to make him laugh. “I thought you were pretty good at that, actually.”

He didn’t laugh at my terrible joke. “How to be with somebody. As in—really be with someone. I spent too many years only being able to trust myself. No one else was reliable enough.”

My heart was thrumming, thrilling, threatening to beat right out of my chest. I tried to comprehend. He’d stayed away because…he felt like he didn’t have the skills? He was dead serious.

What had he endured that he would say such a thing? I pictured a lonely, sad, very handsome boy, left entirely on his own. If that were the case, then look how he’d thrived. I was awestruck at his strength, his fortitude, his endurance.

Also, I was aware the universe had somehow given us this strange, miraculous do-over. A Christmas miracle of sorts. This time, I wasn’t going to accept what he said without a fight.

This time, I didn’t hold back. Without thinking, I wrapped my arms around his lean waist and laid my head on his chest. The soft, warm cotton of his gray T-shirt grazed my cheek. His heart thumped, strong and regular in his chest.

Such a nice chest. So wonderful to be here next to him. And for the first time, I felt that he was happy to be next to me too.

Except he was stiff. When I looked up, he looked wary. But also like he wanted me too. “You came home with me because you knew how important to me this was. You sacrificed your time with your sister for me. What you did means a lot to me. And I don’t…I don’t need anything else.” I paused. “Except…except if you might want to try again, I’d be willing. I mean, I could work with you, you know?” I smiled. “I heard you’re a quick study.”

Then I reached up and kissed him. Brief, quick, butwham.

Wow, he had great lips. Soft and full and really, really nice.

I rarely did anything without thinking. That made me chuckle a little.

“What? What is it?” he asked.

I shook my head. “I’ve never kissed someone who’d dumped me and was maybe trying to do it again.” But he’d looked so forlorn. More than that. He looked—well, miserable. Like he really believed what he’d said about being a liability. And that made me hurt for him. And created a million questions I desperately wanted the answer to.

But right now, I did what my heart was compelling me to do.

And that was cover his lips with mine.

To show him that maybe we hadn’t been a mistake.

He didn’t fight it. He kissed me back tenderly, slowly, seeming to savor every second, moving his mouth over mine, drawing me into his arms.

I backed up far enough to say, “We could take it one kiss at a time, you know?”

When he stopped my chatter by kissing me some more, I felt only absolute relief. Now we were getting somewhere.

He smoothed my damp hair away from my face. “You’re so beautiful,” he said. I could see in the watery light from the window that his eyes were full of warmth, his touch light. And then he held me. “I don’t want to dump you. I just want todeserveyou.”

I went boneless. Tears welled in my eyes. What he’d just said—was it real? Was any of this real?

Then he kissed me hard, and thoughts ceased. He felt so good, his mouth so clever, his hands wrapping around me, stroking my back, our bodies pressing together as we desperately sought each other in the darkness.

It was pure magic, the kisses, the connection, knowing that I was wanted back. I’d never experienced anything like this during all those years with Charlie. I wanted to take all of Brax’s pain away. I wanted to show him that love was something freely given, not given to someone because they are worthy.

Brax drew me down to the couch. Or maybe I pulled him down. I wasn’t really conscious of space or time. I lay back and tugged him over me, and there he was, his weight over me, his warm, strong body on mine, his kisses ardent and all-encompassing. I ran my hand along his shoulders, his back, feeling the strong planes of muscle, thinking how long I’d yearned to do this, to touch him, to learn all his angles and lines.I kissed him hard and drew him to me when I suddenly heard a soft whimper.

I froze. “That wasn’t you, was it?” I whispered into his neck.

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