Page 44 of Wicked Love

I bet he could read my thoughts because he erased the distance between us, his body flush against mine. So much that I could feel his heartbeat through my chest.

Without a word, he tucked strands of my hair behind my ear.

We remained still, our gazes never faltering.

“Grace, if you could see yourself the way I do, never again would you doubt yourself.” He swallowed, the bob of his throat hypnotizing me, before stepping away and stealing every particle of air from my lungs.

That night, I tossed and turned for what felt like hours.

Joe’s words replayed in my head on a loop.

I wish I could cherish every inch of your flesh with my tongue, my hands, and my dick.

If you could see yourself the way I do, never again would you doubt yourself.

Unable to find a soothing position or abandon myself to sleep, I pushed my hand under the waistband of my panties, the T-shirt—Joe’s shirt I stole that morning— bunching at my waist as I caressed myself the way I dreamed he would do. The way I remembered him doing. And just after I exploded in a climax and was drifting to sleep, I heard a muffled grunt coming from the other side of the wall.

Maybe I wasn’t the only one unable to fall asleep tonight.

* * *

Joe and I were sitting on the couch, watching a movie on the screen mounted on the wall.

“Girl, why do I feel like every Christmas movie you’ve made me watch since we moved in is the same but with different characters? The plots are similar, the scenes predictable, the storyline too much alike to be a coincidence. When you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all.”

I sighed. “Stop complaining. Nobody said Christmas movies have to be blockbusters with stunts and a complicated plot. Most are copy-paste of one another, but I don’t know, it works. It’s supposed to be all about love, hope, and redemption. They fill that purpose.”

“I went to art school. We had movie classes. None of the teachers would have passed a student who had come up with such an excuse for a story. Cinema is fun when it’s entertaining, surprising, and one of a kind. These movies fail on at least two of those. I just don’t see the appeal.”

“You never watched Holiday rom-coms in the past?” My jaw hung open at this piece of information.

“When I was a kid, I watched classics with my mom every Christmas Eve. Then I became a teenager and watched those edgier Christmas-themed movies. With the catastrophes, epic booze-induced parties, plane hijackings. Those kinds of movies. They are still Christmas movies. Just more entertaining and less predictable than what we’re watching right now.”

“And how exactly are plane hijacking thrillers supposed to put you in a festive mood? How are they supposed to inject you with hope that everything will be all right and that love will always win?”

“Because. The hero wins and then gets to his kids just in time before they wake up on Christmas morning after he saved the world.” Joe’s eyes lit up as he spoke. “In my opinion, it’s much more hopeful than the CEO going to the countryside to dismantle a family farm only to fall for their daughter, the typical heroine who never wears heels and drives a tractor and whose only friends are cows. Those are clichés.”

I shrugged. “Maybe I like clichés. What’s wrong about it?”

“Nothing. I just think people in Hollywood could make them a bit more interesting and attract a bigger audience if they got…one, better funding and two, add some meat to the bones to make them more exciting. They can keep the formula if it works but could take it to a new level. Just a thought.”

I blew out a full breath. “I’m not saying you’re wrong. And I understand why after three movies on the same night, you might get bored—and for the record, I’m not admitting you’re right—as they all sound alike.” I turned off the television. “Let’s do something else.”

“I checked the town calendar. There’s nothing planned at this hour tonight.” Joe unlocked his phone and flipped it so I could see the screen.

“But we could do some caroling.”

He coughed, and I believed, for a second, he would choke on his saliva. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No. This will be fun.” I stood and tugged at his hand. “Come on, Mr. I Judge Christmas Movies. The town center is where the fun stuff happens.”

“Grace, you’re serious?”

“Yes.” I released his hand and hurried toward the stairs. “Last one who’s ready is on litter box duty for a week.”

Before I could reach the landing, strong arms wrapped around my waist and lifted me up. I laughed my heart out, trying to escape his iron grip. Before I could understand what Joe was doing, he scooted me over his shoulder, padded to his room, and dropped me on his bed.

“What are you—?”