Page 68 of Hostile for the Holidays

I slipout of Jasper’s reach and grab his t-shirt from the floor to pull over my head.

“Come back here. I promise I won’t touch you. I only want to cuddle.”

His eyes are innocent, but the monster erection between his legs is telling me another story.

“You think I’m falling for that?” I scoff.

“It’s true,” he says innocently before adding a wicked smile. “At least for the next ten minutes.”

But I need a moment to collect my thoughts. The intensity of having sex with Jasper for the first time was more than I anticipated. The second time was even more powerful because that’s when I realized, just like our first kiss, it wasn’t a fluke.

“How much stuff do you have in here? It’s like a museum for the early to mid-two-thousands.”

“My parents haven’t gotten rid of anything.” He props himself up on one elbow, watching me peruse his closet.

“Our style was horrible.”

“I think I was a good dresser,” Jasper winks at me.

“Yeah, you did look good but I never would have admitted it.”

“And why’s that?” he prods.

“Because we were sworn enemies and a compliment was against the rules.”

“I think we need to amend the rules.”

“Why’s that?” I ask, my eyes tracking his naked body as he pulls on his boxer briefs and moves to stand behind me.

He pulls my hair back and presses a kiss to my neck.

“Because I’d like to compliment you on how fucking amazing your pussy feels wrapped around me.”

An airy laugh escapes me but it catches in my throat as I notice a familiar scene peeking out from between Jasper’s vintage clothing. I push the hangers aside to reveal it.

There, tucked in the back of his closet, behind a glass frame, is my winter wonderland drawing.

TWENTY-THREE

JASPER

I holdmy breath as Stella takes the framed drawing off the wall to examine it.

I know what she’s looking for. Evidence of its destruction. Ripped pieces, torn edges. Because that’s what I made her believe I’d done to it.

I remember the moment like it was yesterday. The look on her face and how it had given me a rush of satisfaction, and then, for the first time since we’d been trading jabs, an overwhelming sense of regret.

I’d felt like shit for hurting her like that.

Making her believe I’d destroyed something she’d worked so hard on. That I’d purchased her drawing with the intention of hurting her, when in fact I bought it because I knew it was special. She was special. And I wanted a piece of her for myself.

I never told Stella that I didn’t tear up her drawing. I didn’t think she’d believe me.

But that day, the look on her face, and the heartbreak in her eyes, was the moment everything changed for me.

Yes, I kept playing the game with her. Kept competing and keeping tabs on her. But it wasn’t with the hope of crushing herspirit, but the hope that she would get to know me and we could be friends. More than friends.

Slowly, she turns around to face me.

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