Page 69 of Must Love Christmas

He crawled up over the bed on the wall side, where he slipped under the covers and settled in. “Oh, this is an excellent pillow.” He snuggled his face into it. “It’s fluffy and…firm in all…the right…”

When he woke later, the sunlight through the window had dimmed. Garen stretched cautiously, though he knew any muscle pain from the race wouldn’t set in until at least tomorrow morning.

He turned over to face Simon, who was already lying awake on his back, arms over the top of the duvet. He was now clad in just his long-sleeved white T-shirt, the Santa coat lying crumpled beneath him.

He smiled when he saw Garen. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Garen wanted to ask how he was feeling, but he knew his friend was sick of that question. “What time is it?”

“Dunno.” Simon smirked. “You’ve got somewhere to be?”

“Nowhere but here.” Garen noticed a shred of white Santa beard still stuck to Simon’s jaw. He reached out to brush it loose. “You’ve got some—”

Simon jerked away. Garen yanked back his hand and said, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Simon rubbed his face. “You can touch me, just not lightly like that, not right now. My nerves are a bit—”

Garen poked Simon’s cheekbone, firmly, like he was pressing the button to summon a lift.

Simon looked at him, agog, then started to laugh.

“Was that all right, then?” Garen asked.

Simon nodded. “Bit weird.”

“Shall I do it again?” Garen did it again without waiting for a response.

Simon laughed louder, then grabbed his wrist and held on tight. “You know you’re still wearing the Santa hat?”

Heart pounding, Garen replied, “Well, you did say it was a requirement if I wanted to”—his tongue betrayed him, making him stammer—“to ride you.”

Simon’s lips parted in surprise, and for a moment Garen thought he’d completely misread their earlier flirtation.

But then Simon lowered his gaze to Garen’s mouth with an unmistakable heat. “So do you? Want to?”

Garen gave a shaky nod. “Kind of…more than anything.”

With a sharp exhale, Simon pulled Garen’s wrist to bring him forward into a crashing kiss.

Garen’s moan was a mix of relief and exaltation.Finally!He let his hands travel down Simon’s back, dying to feel every inch while reminding himself to keep his touch firm and steady.

When he felt Simon’s fingers gripping his arse and pulling him closer, Garen gasped out, “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure I want you.” Simon pulled off Garen’s Santa hat and tossed it aside. “Even without this.” He buried his hand in Garen’s hair, pulled his head back, and began to feast on his neck.

But are you sure it’s okay?Garen didn’t know whether sex was a recommended part of the rehabilitation plan. He had to trust Simon knew what was good for him.

Still, Garen drew back to clarify things. “So we’re not stopping at hand jobs, like we did that first night?”

Simon’s face softened. “It’s sweet you remembered. But that was because we barely knew each other. Now we’re…” He cleared his throat. “I feel like you know me better than anyone.”

Garen’s chest felt like it would burst open from the sheer honor. “Really?” he whispered.

Simon plucked at the front of his own T-shirt. “You’ve seen this body at its worst. I want to…I want to give you its best. As much as I can do, anyway.”

“Simon.” Garen gripped his elbow. “Your body never stopped being amazing, not for a second. No matter what it can or can’t do, it’s yours, and that makes it something I…” He ground his teeth against the swell of emotion. “Something I really, really want.”

“Oh.” Simon blinked in what looked like shock, his dark lashes flickering. “Good,” he said, and the single syllable was swallowed up by the next long, deep kiss that sent waves of lust and joy straight down to Garen’s toes.

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