Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
I’m kissing a man who was a stranger days ago.
I’m sharing air with the person I belong with.
I’m becoming one with someone I could never have dreamed I would feel this connected to.
Our bodies start to rock together as he finds his rhythm. I’m with him every moment, clinging to him, kissing him so tenderly. I open my eyes sometimes, and the sweet, almost innocent look of his face as he kisses me melts my heart into puddles. He’s making himself as vulnerable to me as he can. Letting down all his guards. Letting me in.
He inspires me to do the same.
He makes me feel so safe. Like I can tell him anything. Like I can just be myself, whatever that is.
Even if it’s neurotic at times.
Or a little random.
Samuel will take me however I come, in whatever package, in whatever wrapping paper. He’ll tear me open and be as happy as a puppy at whatever’s inside, grateful and full of joy.
“Are you ready?” he breathes against my lips.
“More than you know,” I whisper back.
Then we climax together. I cling to him so tightly as I feel the indescribable rush of release I’ve been achingly desperate for. He can’t seem to stop, thrusting even deeper as he empties himself inside of me, spilling groans of relief from his pretty lips. Then he peers down at my face, his eyes sparkling, and it’s as if he can’t believe a feeling like this is even possible. I share that very same sentiment with all of my being right now. Then he catches me with a kiss so perfect, it’s like a dream.
Chapter 20
The Resolution.
I guess it’s on Christmas Eve that it all becomes official.
Not Samuel and I, exactly.
“What do you mean don’t pack?” I ask my dad, confused, as I stop fussing with my hair in the bathroom mirror. “We’re heading home tomorrow afternoon after Christmas dinner. We have to get back to the restaurant.”
“Son …”
“And I still need to send grandma some cake-batter-flavored ChapStick before it’s too late. She’ll think I forgot her birthday.”
“I can take care of that, son. I’m trying to tell you—”
“We can’t stay here any longer, Dad, no matter how much you like it. You know how crazy the restaurant gets after Christmas to the end of the year. We shouldn’t overstay our welcome here with the Strongs.” I already prepared myself for my inevitable return home. And now here’s my dad, telling me not to pack.
He stands at the doorway wearing a funny smirk. “I’m under the impression that our lovely host has … different plans.”
It’s never good news when my dad acts coy. “Wait. What did you do?”
“What? Nothing!”
“Dad.”
He huffs. “Can’t a father have some fun at his son’s expense? Nadine and I have been talking, that’s all! She has a few thoughts I think she … might like to share with you.”
“What did you do?” I repeat.
He comes into the bathroom and puts a hand on my shoulder. “I’m going back to tend to the restaurant tomorrow. But …” I feel his hand squeeze. “I think there are a few things left for you here in this town.”
“Is this about me and Samuel?” I sigh. “We had a lot of talks last night. The happy pair of us are looking forward to spending tonight and tomorrow morning together in Spruce before we go. It’s all been settled. You don’t have to coddle my emotions.” I face the mirror and resume fixing my hair. “We leave tomorrow.”
“You’re not hearing me, son.”
The change of his tone brings me to face him again.
He puts both his hands on my shoulders. “I’ve given this a lot of thought. Son, you’re a great manager and supervisor. You have a knack with keeping order at the restaurant. People listen to you and trust you. You’re organized. You think ahead.”
“Well, someone needs to keep people moving at the restaurant, especially on the busy nights.” Of course, his compliments fly over my head.
He puts on a smile. “Spruce has a bunch of big events around town leading up to a special New Year’s Eve thing. Events that the mayor is responsible for. Events that need … coordinating.”
I stare at him in a daze.
“Nadine wants your help, son.” He pats my shoulders again. “I think you should stick around and help her out. She’s in over her head with this mayor stuff—just between you and me, son—and she needs all the extra help she can get. She’s seen you pulling your weight around this house just with the wedding events alone. She kept trying to toss you out the door on date after date, but you kept making yourself busy here organizing, delegating, doing all the things you do best.” He pats me on the cheek. “She wants you to stay put ‘til the end of the year … and then you can see how it all feels and, oh, I don’t know, son, maybe you can make a bigger decision in the new year.”