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“You won’t hear any complaints from me.”
“But first…” She grins as she slides down my body, reaching for the waist of my jeans. “Let me help clean you up…with my mouth.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
JOSHUA
The aroma of rosemary and thyme surrounds me as I hum along to a Christmas song.
I’d been dreading the holiday season this year. I wasn’t sure how I’d handle my first Christmas without my mom. I expected everywhere I turned to remind me of what I’d lost.
Instead, I’m constantly reminded of what I still have.
Part of it has to do with the renovations I’ve made to the house. New furniture. New paint. Reclaimed the spaces that were Mom’s and turned them into mine.
Even so, I think the main reason I haven’t been consumed by Mom’s absence has less to do with the changes I’ve made and a lot more to do with Wynter Hayes.
Over the past couple of weeks, she’s become a part of my daily routine so seamlessly that I almost can’t remember what my evenings looked like before her.
Since that first night, she’s spent every single one in my bed, sneaking over after her parents have fallen asleep and leaving before her father gets up in the morning. She’s even started to bring Gary over so she doesn’t have to worry about him waking them up if he needs to go out, only for them to realize Wynter’s not there.
A part of me feels guilty about keeping this a secret, especially from her brother. Wynter and I are both adults. There’s nothing wrong with what we’re doing, per se.
But I understand Wynter’s situation is complicated. If keeping our arrangement quiet makes it easier for her, I’m okay with it.
Like I told Declan when he voiced his concerns, I’m happy with whatever Wynter is comfortable giving me. Life’s too short to have regrets. And I refuse to have any where Wynter’s concerned.
I just hope she doesn’t read too much into what I have planned for tonight.
Since her parents are both at the football banquet, I took the night off from work so we could spend the evening together. Wynter may not feel comfortable going out to dinner with me, all things considered, but I still want to do something. It feels like all we’ve done these past couple of weeks is have sex.
I’m not complaining. The sex is fucking fantastic. Hell, one time, she surprised me at my office at Holley Ridge wearing nothing but her winter coat and a pair of boots.
And I do mean nothing.
While I understand we’re not technically dating, I don’t want Wynter to think I’m only interested in sex, so I’ve spent the last hour making one of my mom’s favorite recipes. Maple-glazed pork tenderloin with Brussels sprouts and roasted red potatoes.
“What’s all this?”
At the sound of the familiar voice, I turn to find Wynter standing in the doorway with Gary.
She’s wearing jeans and a sweater. Nothing fancy. Nothing that should make my pulse stutter the way it does.
But this is the effect Wynter Hayes has on me. Simply being in her presence has my body reacting in ways I didn’t think I was capable of a few weeks ago.
“Dinner,” I explain, covering the cast-iron skillet with foil after checking the temperature on the pork.
Her brows pull together. “You cooked?”
“I did.”
She looks from me to the stove, then back to me. “You didn’t have to cook dinner for me.”
“I wanted to.” I cross the kitchen and take her hands in mine. Her fingers are cold from being outside, and I hold them tighter, trying to warm them. “Since I can’t take you out for dinner, I figure this is the next best thing.”
Her expression softens. “I don’t mind. We’re just having fun, remember? Enjoying our bubble? No past or future?”
“I know. And I’m still in the bubble. But every time you come over, I feel like I’m jumping on you and getting you naked within seconds.”
