Page 29 of A Christmas Harbor

“That, too.”

David lowered himself onto Paul’s chest. “Pull the covers up for me?”

Paul reached down and yanked the blankets as hard as he could, then draped them over David’s head. “Better?”

“You are such a goofball.”

“Yeah, you like it, though.” He kissed David’s mouth through the sheet—at least, he was pretty sure it was his mouth.

David pushed the covers off his head. The gold in his hair gleamed in the glow of the reading light above them, and his eyes once again looked pure blue.

He held Paul’s gaze for the span of two breaths. Then he kissed him, with such tenderness, Paul’s legs went weak, and they weren’t even holding him up.

He was such a goner, from the moment David had kissed him on the drawbridge, or maybe from the moment David had let Paul rest his knee against his in the bar. Or maybe even from the moment he’d first looked up at Paul, with eyes full of annoyance, then confusion, and finally acquiescence.

“You do have that kind of face.”

David slid his arms beneath Paul’s shoulders to enfold him. His kiss went deeper, but his mouth stayed gentle, giving instead of taking.

Like the couches, this mattress was comfy but solid, with no springs to creak. So there was no sound as they moved, apart from their breathy moans and the hiss of sleet upon theMany Waters’hull.

They had finally said enough. Now they had no words, only wordless questions that stood forMay I?and wordless answers that stood forYes.

When at last Paul felt that familiar, delicious tension grow within him, he released the two words that demanded saying. “Thank you.”

David paused, looking puzzled. “For what, specifically?”

Paul had no idea. “Thank you for…” A dozen risqué possibilities presented themselves, but none of them matched the feeling that had prompted the beginning of that sentence.

Again he thought back to when they’d met, and the rest of the words became obvious in an instant.

“For giving me a chance.”

* * *

David stared down at Paul’s flushed face, at his dark waves forming a corona on the white pillowcase. How could this sweet and generous man think he was the one who needed the benefit of the doubt?

“You’re the one,” he told Paul. “You took a chance on some dickhead in a bar, all because he looked like he needed a kind word.”

Paul pursed his lips. “Also because that dickhead was hot. He still is, by the way, and why are we talking about you in the third person?”

“Probably because this should feel like it’s happening to someone else.”

“Does it feel that way?”

“Not to me.” He kissed Paul’s lower lip and began to move again. “What about you?”

“Mmm.” Paul tilted back his head and released that rapturous smile that had appeared soon after they’d climbed into this bed together. “What was the question?”

“Never mind.” He pushed up onto his hands. The ceiling wouldn’t let him get fully vertical, but there was enough room for him to move a bit deeper.

“Fu-uu-uck.” The word tumbled from Paul’s throat in a half-laugh, half-groan.

So this was going well. David wasn’t making a fool of himself. But even if he had, even if sex had been a disaster, he sensed that the two of them would have simply joked about it and tried again.

He continued, faster now. Paul lifted his thighs and wrapped them around his hips, holding him steady. He ran his palms up over David’s arms to his shoulders, where he clung on tight.

They stayed at arms’ length, gazes locked, until both their bodies began to buckle. Then Paul let go, dropping his hand to stroke himself.

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