Page 44 of The Night Before Grumpmas
Nothing is supposed to happen between us. We’re not meant to feel . . . like this. And yet, there are feelings. Many of them. Unexpected, complicated, heart-thudding-in-my-chest kind of feelings.
I’m not ready for this.
But I have to be ready. At least ready to deal with the blow when things are over. His touch, his presence, the way he’s holding me like he’s afraid I’ll disappear—everything feels too real, too intimate. I didn’t expect any of this. And now, I don’t know what to do.
Before I can make a decision, I feel him stir behind me. His grip loosens slightly, and I hear the soft rustle of the sheets as he shifts, his lips brushing lightly against my shoulder.
“Morning,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough with sleep.
My heart skips a beat. “Morning,” I whisper back, my voice softer than I intended. I don’t turn around, but I feel him move closer, his lips pressing against my neck, slow and deliberate. A shiver runs through me, and despite everything, I find myself melting into his touch.
“Thank fuck you’re still here,” he says quietly, his lips still lingering on my skin. There’s something in his voice—relief, maybe? Or is it fear?
“I didn’t know . . . do you want me to leave? Should I? I’ve never done this, you know?” I admit, finally turning to face him. His eyes are still heavy with sleep, but they lock onto mine, searching, like he’s trying to figure out what I’m thinking. “This wasn’t . . . what I expected.”
He gives a small, crooked smile, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, me neither, but I’m grateful that you didn’t leave me.”
We stay like that for a moment, just looking at each other, the silence thick with unspoken words. I don’t know what to say, and I don’t think he does either. This is new. Different. And I’m not sure how to handle it.
“Maybe it’ll be for the best,” I break the silence.
“I don’t want you to leave,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he’s afraid saying it out loud will make me go. His hand slides up my side, resting against my back, holding me close again. “This . . . Whatever this is . . . It’s new for me too. But I want to figure it out. With you.”
I stare at him, my heart pounding in my chest. I didn’t expect him to say that. I didn’t expect him to . . . want this.
“What if we’re just . . .” I hesitate, searching for the right words. “What if we’re getting ahead of ourselves?”
He shakes his head, his eyes never leaving mine. “Maybe we are. But I know one thing—I haven’t felt this way before. Not with anyone.” He pauses, his hand tightening slightly on my back. “And I don’t want to fuck it up by pushing you away or pretending it’s nothing. Because it’s not nothing, Noelle.”
His words hit me hard, the weight of them settling into the pit of my stomach. I don’t know what to say. My mind is spinning, caught between wanting to protect myself and wanting to believe him.
“Jacob . . .” I start, my voice soft, unsure.
“I’m not asking for everything right now,” he says, his voice low, his gaze steady. “But I’m asking for a chance. To see what this could be, what we can become. Can we figure it out together?”
I swallow, my heart still racing. Part of me is terrified. But the other part—the part that’s still wrapped up in his arms, feeling the safety of his warmth—wants to say yes, wants to give this a shot.
“What if it doesn’t work? We’re from different worlds,” I admit, my voice shaky.
“We are, and I like that. That I can come to your space and be away from everything. Just you and me and your unique world,” he says, his thumb brushing against my back, comforting. “We’ll figure this out together.”
“Figure what out?”
“What we mean to each other,” he says, his eyes steady on mine, “what we need to let us fall, what it is to love, and maybe keep repeating that process for the rest of our lives. I’m not saying I want forever—not yet—but I’m hoping to see where this goes.”
I blink, surprised. Jacob McCallister isn’t what I expected. Not even close.
“You’re not what I expected, Jacob McCallister,” I murmur, a smile tugging at the corner of my lips.
He grins, that slow, confident grin that has my heart skipping a beat. “Likewise. So, what do you say?”
“Let’s give it a try as long as you’re open to it along with all my holiday cheer,” I answer sassily, my voice soft but sure.
The moment hangs between us, and then he leans in, kissing me with that perfect mix of tenderness and heat. His hands slide to my waist, pulling me closer, and I feel the warmth of his body flush against mine. The kiss deepens, and soon it’s no longer just a kiss—it’s a promise, a connection, something more than I ever expected.
I moan softly as he lifts me on top of him, and without breaking the kiss, he’s inside me. The way he fills me feels so natural, so right, like we were always meant to fit together like this. My mind flashes back to last night, to the fourth time we were tangled in each other’s arms when the condom broke.
The sudden memory makes me pull back slightly, catching my breath. “About last night,” I murmur, a bit breathless as I look at him. “The condom . . .”
