The Christmas Collection, page 26
“You’re beautiful.”
She sighs, looking away from me. “Stop saying things like that.”
“Sorry, I thought we were stating the obvious.” She tries to push me away as I come down on top of her, but I easily push her hands out of the way, pinning them to the bed as I come down on top of her.
She looks up at me, still annoyed.
“Kiss me back, goddammit.”
It’s the only warning she gets, then my lips are on hers again.
She still wiggles beneath me, her goddamn tempting little body rubbing me in all the wrong places if what she really wants is to settle me down.
I don’t believe that, though. It wasn’t true in the shower, it’s probably not true tonight, either.
Whether it’s true or it isn’t, I don’t listen. I hold her down, lacing my fingers together with hers, keeping her body pinned beneath my weight. I wedge a knee between her thighs and kick her legs apart so I can position myself between them. I kiss the goddamn brat until finally… finally, she kisses me back.
So much tension eases out of my body as her lips soften beneath mine. I let go of one of her hands so I can touch her face, then I slide my fingers through the silky strands of her hair.
“I miss you already,” I murmur against her lips. “You’re not even gone yet, and I fucking miss you.”
Her expression softens. Before I said that, she may have finally kissed me back, but she hadn’t given in. Her brow was still furrowed, her expression still guarded against me and thoroughly aggravated.
I feel her chest sink beneath me as she sighs.
It’s defeat for her, but victory for me.
She reaches up to push a few strands of hair back off my face—a gesture of tenderness.
Her eyes glint with sadness I know I put there.
I can tell she wants to say something, but whatever it is, she keeps it to herself.
Instead of speaking, she slides her hand around my neck and pulls me down closer to her.
Her lips are soft and sweet again, inviting me to kiss her.
I kiss her like I’m drowning and she’s the only dry land I’ll ever find.
My hands are rough and greedy as I reach for her panties—the only stitch of her clothing I haven’t yet removed. I resent them for being in my way, so I shove the fabric down her long, shapely legs.
I have to break away for a moment to unhook her panties from her ankle and toss them, to drag off my shirt and kick off my pants. To free my cock and guide it between her thighs.
She gasps when I shove into her, hooking her arm around my shoulder so she can hold on. She feels so fucking good as she struggles to adjust, taking every inch of me raw and without much preparation. I feel her stretching to accommodate me, feel the strain of her muscles as she shifts beneath me, trying to get more comfortable.
She looks up at me with her wounded heart in her big blue eyes, letting me have her one last time when she knows damn well she shouldn’t.
I could fall in love with you, I told her.
I didn’t tell her I’ve already started to fall.
CHAPTER 25
AUTUMN
We get a late start leaving the following morning.
Everyone is awake, which is unfortunate. It was a long night, and I’m completely drained. I’m not able to fake very convincing smiles as we say goodbye to Jasper’s family, but I do try.
Maybe I shouldn’t care about keeping up his ruse. They’ll all find out we didn’t last when they never see me again anyway, but the memory of this Christmas with Jasper and his family in Stillwater… it’ll stick with me, even if he doesn’t.
I’m exhausted when we load into the car, but at least I don’t need to keep up a front once we’re alone. Jasper didn’t let me get much sleep, the bastard.
I was okay when I went to bed. Sad, but accepting. Resigned.
I should have known better than to get my hopes up. I should have known that a leopard doesn’t change his stripes. No matter how okay I made myself with Jasper’s past… it wasn’t his past yet. Because of his fears about my safety otherwise, being with me would mean completely changing his life, and that’s a hell of a sacrifice to make for someone you just met.
After the time we spent together over Christmas, I was willing to change my life for him, but I guess he doesn’t feel the same way about me.
I just don’t know why he had to lie to me.
I asked him if we were impossible. He said we weren’t.
I told him I wouldn’t sleep with him because I didn’t want to get attached, but he didn’t accept that.
I guess I thought it was because it was safe to get attached.
Turns out, it’s just because he’s an asshole and he wanted to fuck me.
I can let myself off the hook for that time. I let myself get swept up in the romance of that night. I wanted him as much as he wanted me. I knew better, but I did want him.
Last night, though.
There’s no fucking excuse for last night.
I push out a breath, leaning my head against the door and watching out the window.
I feel Jasper’s gaze flicker in my direction, but I don’t look at him.
Last night was a mistake. I should not have slept with him last night. We had already ended things, I knew the truth at that point. I should have said no. I mean, I did, but I should have kept saying it. I should have said it a thousand fucking times if I had to.
He just sounded so sad. He looked so sad.
I didn’t want to make him sad, even if he made me sad first.
It also didn’t seem like he was going to take no for an answer, and I didn’t know what that would look like. It wouldn’t have been like the first time in the shower, it would have been something else—something painful for both of us. Torrid and twisted, ripping even more holes in both of us than there already are.
Neither of us needed that.
I may have lost the battle, but I’ll win the war.
I took control of the situation, regardless of how it might have seemed to him.
He was drunk, anyway. Who knows if he even remembers the finer details?
I certainly do.
I’m not mad, though—not at him. I’m mad at me.
I’m aggravated because I knew from the get-go it would be a mistake to attach to him, I even knew what I needed to avoid to ensure that didn’t happen, and I let it happen anyway. Begged for it to happen. I could have kept things simple this week, I could have navigated these waters much more carefully, ensuring both of our needs were met—he had someone to bring home to his family, I didn’t get murdered and I had somewhere to have Christmas—and then we both could have emerged unscathed.
He could go back to the life he leads in Chicago, I could fly back home to Syracuse, and our lives would have gone on more or less unchanged.
He says it was Fate that brought us together on the road that night, but maybe he was wrong. We’re from completely different worlds. We live completely different lives.
Maybe our paths were never meant to cross.
Everything happens for a reason, they say.
Maybe they’re wrong, too.
The car ride to Stillwater had its quiet moments, but it was nothing like the drive back to Chicago.
Jasper is comfortable in silence so it doesn’t seem to rankle him at all, but I grow restless after the first few hours of not speaking to one another.
It’s not an angry silence, necessarily. There definitely is tension in the air, but it’s rife with hurt and disappointment, not anger.
“Do you listen to music?”
Since I’ve ended our unspoken agreement not to talk to each other, Jasper slides a glance in my direction. “Sometimes. Not when I’m driving.”
“Why?”
He shrugs, his gaze shifting back to the road. “I like to be alert when I’m on the road. Music is a distraction I don’t need.”
“You let me listen to Christmas music in the car when we were driving through Stillwater.”
“A lot of things were different in Stillwater,” he says.
“Tell me about it,” I murmur under my breath, turning my head to look out the window again.
We don’t talk much the rest of the way. I tell him when I need him to pull off so I can pee, and he does. He asks if I’m hungry and I say I’m not, even though it’s not true. I just don’t want to stop for food. I don’t want to find some place on an exit along the way, I don’t want to explore with him.
I just want to go home.
My rumbling stomach gives me away and Jasper makes some excuse about needing gas so he can pull off at the next travel plaza. I’m starving by that point so I use the bathroom while we’re there, then I buy a bag of chips and a cup full of fruit to eat in the car to stop my tummy’s rumbling.
When I get back out to the car, I find Jasper waiting with a couple of hot dogs and pops that he bought while I was inside. I get in and he passes me a hot dog.
“Thank you,” I murmur as I take it.
He nods, not saying a word.
That’s our last meaningful interaction before we make it back to Chicago.
When we finally get back to the city, I feel some of the weight dropping off my shoulders. This week has been a whole thing, but it’s so close to being over now. When Jasper drove me out of this city, I thought I might never see it again.
It could have been worse. He could have done more than scratch up my heart. He could have killed me.
It’s a dingy silver lining, but it’s the one I’ve got.
Now that we’re here, I stop moping about Jasper hurting my feelings and I concentrate on getting back to real life. This week was an adventure, a wrong turn that led me somewhere crazy and—in its own weird way—wonderful. It was an experience to remember, but it’s over now and the real world is waiting for me.
Jasper’s words from last night resurface in my mind, because I feel them, too. I miss him even though he’s still here. Now that the car ride is practically over, some part of me even wishes we’d spent it talking to one another instead of sitting here in silence.
I suppose there wouldn’t have been a point, though.
I know I’ll miss him when I go back home, but it doesn’t matter.
I’ll get over it. I have to. It’s my only option.
By the time we pull into Jasper’s apartment building, I feel pretty confident that I’ve got this. I can navigate the rest of these waters without taking any more damage.
I just have to get away from him first. I was right that first night, he is a danger to my well-being—just not the way I thought he would be.
Jasper’s hand is on the door handle. He’s about to open the car door and get out when I blurt, “I actually think I might just call a cab.”
He stops and turns to look back at me. “What?”
“I need to go get my luggage from Brady’s house. I fly home tomorrow, and… I need my things. Plus I have to pay him back for the Christmas gifts we gave your family. I think maybe I’ll just get a cab to take me there tonight, and—”
Interrupting before I finish, he says, “Your stuff is here.”
I blink. “What? How?”
“I sent a friend to pick it up,” he says evasively, before climbing out of the car as if the matter is settled.
I guess it is. Maybe I should be relieved. A cab ride to Brady’s house would have been costly, and having to see his family again after all this… no thanks.
It’s no less daunting to imagine walking into Jasper’s home than Brady’s parents, though. At least I wasn’t well on my way to falling in love with them. They might’ve made me feel uncomfortable, but it would have been a fleeting thing that only lasted as long as I had to endure it, then I would leave and never think about it again. The way Jasper makes me feel…
It doesn’t feel fleeting.
I sit in the car for a moment longer than I need to, looking at Jasper’s apartment building as if it’s the gate to hell.
It’s not a good idea to go inside with him, but I do need to get my things…
All right, I’ll go in, get my things, then turn right back around and leave. I didn’t get to tell him yet since he didn’t let me finish my sentence before, but I have every intention of checking myself into a hotel near the airport tonight. I’ll sleep alone and clear my head, and then I’ll be nearby for the flight home tomorrow.
The confidence and detachment I felt sitting in the car outside the apartment building dissipates the second we pass through the door.
This is his place.
His place.
Where he lives, where he sleeps.
Jasper walks ahead of me, checking the place to make sure it’s empty. I don’t know if he has ever had anyone inside his house before, or maybe it’s just something he does automatically when he gets back from a long trip.
“No roommate?”
Jasper shakes his head and steps into what must be his bedroom. “Nope.”
“Kinda figured. I don’t see you being a roommate guy,” I murmur, looking around at his sparsely furnished space.
“I am definitely not a roommate guy,” he verifies, poking his head into a closet before deciding the room is empty and stepping back out of it.
The ice barrier I spent the whole day building up against him is starting to melt. Being in his apartment, looking in at the bed he sleeps in…
It fills me with longing. It reminds me that I’m hurt. It makes me imagine waking up in that bed with his strong arms wrapped around me, the view of Chicago outside our bedroom window.
I could’ve been happy in Chicago.
I could’ve been happy with him.
My heart aches being here.
I need to go.
“Where’s my bag?” I ask abruptly, hearing the urgency in my own tone.
Jasper hears it, too. He spins around and frowns at me wordlessly, then he walks back toward the door and opens what I assume is a coat closet.
My luggage is inside. He pulls it out and wheels it over to me, offering me the extended handle. Gesturing down the short hall, he says, “Bathroom’s right there if you feel like showering or changing now that you have your stuff.”
I shake my head. “I’m okay.”
“I’ll bring in the Christmas stuff so we can pack it.”
I start to object, but he’s already out the door.
It’s not that I don’t want the Christmas gifts. I do, especially that warm blanket his mom bought me, but every moment I spend here is only going to make it harder to leave. My fantasies about the life we could have led are plentiful as it is; I don’t need to know what it’s actually like to spend a night with him in his home.
I want to, and that’s why I can’t.
Jasper comes back with his arms full of Christmas gifts. I take a step back and he unloads everything on the couch.
I want to get this over with, so I make quick work of grabbing and packing everything I’m supposed to take home.
Since we left Stillwater late, it’s already past eight o’clock. Seeming to realize that, Jasper asks me, “Do you want to grab something to eat? We can go out or order a pizza, whatever you want to do.”
I shake my head, not looking at him. “No, I’m actually—I have to go.”
I hear the frown in his voice. “Go where?”
“I’m gonna get a hotel for the night. Someplace close to the airport.”
His displeasure heightens. “Why?”
I unzip my purse and draw out my cell phone. “I just think that would be better.”
“There’s no reason to get a hotel, Autumn. You can sleep here and I’ll give you a ride to the airport tomorrow.”
I shake my head, flashing him a polite smile over my shoulder as I pull up the app to call for a ride. “I can take care of it myself, but thank you.”
My gaze is trained back on my screen so I can pay attention to what I’m doing, but before I’m even close to securing a ride, Jasper storms over and rips the phone right out of my hand.
“Hey!” I object, glaring at him and reaching for my phone. “What are you doing?”
“You’re not calling a fucking car. You’re not staying at a hotel by the airport.”
My eyes widen, fury spiking inside me. “You’re not my boss! You don’t get to tell me what to do. You don’t get to decide that.” I make a grab at the phone but he’s taller than I am, so he easily holds it out of my reach. “Jasper, give me the goddamn phone.”
“Why do you want to get a hotel room?” he asks, staring straight at me.
“I just told you—”
He cuts me off. “No, not the bullshit excuse about wanting to be close to the airport. Why do you really want to go to a hotel? Why don’t you want to stay here tonight?”
I sigh heavily, shooting him a look chock full of annoyance. “I shouldn’t have to explain myself to you. I don’t have to explain myself to you. You and I?” I say gesturing between us. “We’re strangers. We’re nothing to one another. I owe you no explanations, you owe me none. We’ll never see each other again, and I would rather that start tonight than tomorrow.”
Seeing through every bit of my bluster, he asks calmly, “Is it because of last night? I’m sorry for that. I was drunk. It’s not an excuse, but I… let my emotions get the better of me. That won’t happen again.”
His words knock some of the wind from my sails.
It’s easier to be angry than hurt.
I want the shield of anger. I need it. But it’s much easier to be angry when I can tell myself he deceived me on purpose, that he only really wanted a fun week with me, that he never felt for me what I felt for him.
It’s harder when I think that he wanted all of that too, that he really does feel trapped by the life choices he’s made, that he truly wishes things were different so he could keep me.
It’s harder when he tells me he let his emotions get the best of him. That implies I am someone he is emotionally invested in, that he has invested enough in me that when he was drunk and his inhibitions were low, what he wanted the most, what he took even though I fought to stop him… I was what he wanted.
Without the cool barrier of my anger, sadness creeps up on me again. My heart is suddenly heavier, the tear ducts stinging behind my eyes.
