Page 27 of Once Upon a Holiday Vacation
He leaned into my touch, a contented sigh escaping him. “How’d you sleep?”
“Like a rock,” I admitted. “Though I’m pretty sure that’s your fault. You wore me out last night.”
A rosy blush bloomed across his cheeks, but he didn’t look away. If anything, his gaze grew more intense. “No regrets?”
The vulnerability in his voice tugged at my heart. I cupped his face in my hands, thumb tracing his jawline. “Not a single one. You?”
He shook his head, nuzzling against my palm. “It felt... right. Natural.”
“Yeah.” I breathed deep, marveling at how perfectly we fit together, like two halves of a whole finally united. “I can’t believe we waited so long to do this.”
His soft lips quirked up. “Better late than never?”
I laughed, pulling him closer. “Much better. Though I think it would be in both of our best interests if we spent the rest of this trip making up for lost time.”
His eyes widened slightly at that, but there was heat there too. “Is that so, Mr. Holt?”
“You’d better believe it, Mr. Beckett,” I growled playfully, rolling us so he was beneath me. I peppered kisses along his neck, reveling in the soft gasp it elicited. “Starting right now.”
As I captured his mouth in a searing kiss, I marveled at how this shy bookish boy I’d known my whole life could set me aflame with a single touch.
His fingers tangled in my hair, his body arching up to meet mine. “West.” He breathed my name like a prayer on his lips. “Wait.”
I reluctantly pulled away, my heart racing and my cock crying out for me to keep going. “Why? What’s wrong?”
His eyes lit up, excitement dancing across his features. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s Christmas morning. Don’t you want your present?”
I couldn’t help but admire the way the morning light played across his bare shoulders, highlighting the gentle curve of his neck. “I thoughtyouwere my present.”
“Well, let’s open the ones we brought from home now and maybe later, I’ll let you unwrap me,” he offered in a sultry tonethat made my toes curl. Who would have thought shy book-loving Easton Beckett could be such a tease? I grinned, rolling off him and sitting up.
“Alright, you’ve convinced me. Let’s see what Santa brought.”
Easton slipped out of bed, padding over to his suitcase. I admired the view of his toned backside as he bent to retrieve a small wrapped package. When he turned back to me, his eyes raked over my body, a hunger there that made my breath catch.
“Here,” he said softly, handing me the carefully wrapped package. “Merry Christmas, West. Remember, this is just something little. You’ll get the rest of your gifts when we get home.”
“I’m sure I’m going to love whatever it is,” I assured him. As I tore away the paper, my breath caught in my throat. It was a framed photo of us from childhood, gangly pre-teens with gap-toothed grins, arms slung around each other’s shoulders.
“East,” I whispered, tracing the edge of the frame. “This is...”
“Do you remember that day?” he asked, a hint of shyness in his voice. “It was right after your big game. You scored the winning goal, and I?—”
“You were there cheering louder than anyone,” I finished, memories flooding back. “Even though you hated sports.”
He ducked his head, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “I didn’t hate them when you were playing.”
I swallowed hard, overcome with emotion. “This is incredible. Thank you.” I pulled him into a tight hug, breathing in his familiar scent. “I can’t believe you kept this all these years.”
He shrugged, but I could see how pleased he was. “Some things are worth holding onto.”
“Speaking of which,” I said, reaching for my own gift. “Your turn.”
I handed him a package, watching as he carefully unwrapped it to reveal a leather-bound journal, its cover embossed with intricate designs.
“Oh wow!” he said on a breath, running his fingers over the supple leather. “It’s beautiful.”
“Open it,” I urged, suddenly nervous.
