Bourneâunstoppable. But now â¦â He shrugged. âI took it out on you, and thatâs not fair.â
I put my chai on the bedside table. âThatâs okay. I canât expect you to drop everything for me whenever I call. Although â¦â
âWhat?â
âYou could drop everything and kiss me.â
And he did. Until I finally pulled back, breathless and dizzy, and inspected his face. I didnât want to admit it, but he looked even worse than when heâd left four days ago.
âI know,â he said. âI look bad. You donât have to say it, Em. Itâs changing me. Not just how I look, but my mood, the way I think â¦â
âSo, are you going to stop?â I asked in a small voice.
âNot yet.â For a moment, neither of us spoke. He leaned his head back against the wall. âMerry Christmas, right?â He grimaced. âDoesnât feel that merry this year, does it?â
âNo,â I agreed. âNatalie and I are on a complete anti-Christmas kick.â
âStill. I got you something.â He held out one of those little silk Chinese purses, magenta with white embroidery, just big enough to hold a piece of jewelry. I loved the iPhone heâd given me at Thanksgiving, but I couldnât help agreeing with Celeste, a little jewelry was nice.
I unsnapped the lid and pulled out a ring, a hammered silver band like the one he wore on his own finger.
âI know,â he said, running a hand through his dark hair in a gesture I recognized as embarrassment. âMatching rings? Lame. But I passed the place where I bought mine, and I was thinking of you, so â¦â He shrugged. âYou donât have to wear it.â
âI love it.â I slipped it on the ring finger of my right hand. âItâs not lame at all.â
I hopped out of bed and opened my top dresser drawer. Inside was a package wrapped in red paper with a green ribbon. âI got you something, too.â
His eyes lit up, and I tried not to notice how they were tinged with red, his irises lacking their usual brilliance. I handed the box to him and he ripped it open. Inside was a silver pocketknife Iâd found at one of the antique shops in the village.
âI thought I shouldnât be the only one to have a knife around here.â
He looked pleased as he ran his fingers over the design engraved in the side. âCool. I never had a pocketknife.â
âReally? And here I thought you had everything,â I teased.
There was an intent, knowing look on his face as he gently pulled me toward him. âThe only thing I want is you.â
We fell onto the bed together and started to undo each otherâs clothing. Let me just say, red plaid flannel pajamas suddenly become very sexy when your bad-boy boyfriend is unbuttoning them while kissing his way down your neck. With the first kiss, I could feel my tension ease. I let everything go as his hands slid down my body. My sighs only encouraged him.
âOh God, Emma,â he whispered into my ear, causing me to shiver. âYou donât know what you do to me.â
Then, like an echo: âOh God. Emma!â but moreforcefully, and with my motherâs voice. I pushed away from Bennett and saw her in the doorway. âMom!â And then, âDad!â
My father hovered behind my mom, a horrified expression on his face. Poor guy. The idea of me being with a boy was repugnant to him. Iâd probably just given him a yearâs worth of nightmares. But seriously, they had to show up now? They couldnât have called first and told me not to worry, theyâd be here Christmas morning? I was miserable last night without them.
No. Instead they show up without warning and interrupt what had been turning into the highlight of my winter vacation.
âDoes the word
knock
mean nothing to you?â I snapped. âThis is ridiculous.
Again
?â
I felt Bennett
Bret Witter, Luis Carlos Montalván