The Twelve Holidates by Clair Emma St

Author:Clair, Emma St. [Clair, Emma St.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Contemporary, Adult
Amazon: B08R57NQ3K
Goodreads: 63348458
Publisher: Amazon Digital Services
Published: 2020-12-20T08:00:00+00:00

I’m aware of movement, the sensation of being lifted and carried. Groaning, I start to stir.

“Shh,” Weston’s familiar voice says, close to my ear. “I’ve got you.”

His voice, his scent, his strong arms are so comforting that I allow myself to sink into him. I don’t want to open my eyes, to let myself fully wake up. I don’t want this moment, dream or reality, to end.

Weston settles me into his bed, tucking the covers up around me, before starting to turn away. I hate the loss of his touch. Fumbling to free my hand from the sheets, I grab his sleeve, opening my eyes just enough to see his handsome face in the dimly lit room.

“Stay,” I whisper. It’s half command, half plea.

I’m immediately embarrassed, feeling so vulnerable that I jerk my hand back under the covers. I can read the indecision on his face, though the expression in his eyes is not one I’ve seen before.

Finally, he gives me a slight nod, then with a tilted grin, he roughly climbs over me, making sure to jostle and squish me into the mattress as much as possible. I giggle, though it’s all I can do not to grab him and pull him closer.

He settles next to me, close enough that I’m aware of him, but not so close that we’re touching.

I’m facing away from him, listening to his breathing, fully awake now. I feel like every nerve ending has been summoned for duty, all standing at attention, ready to be called into action.

If I just turn, we’ll be face to face. It would be so easy to be brave in the darkness, with the thin veil of sleep softening everything. But I cannot make myself move. Even here, in the dark and the wee hours of the morning, I’m too frightened of the cost. Of what I might lose if Weston doesn’t want me.

“West?” I whisper.

“Yeah?”

Why didn’t you kiss me back? Why didn’t you want me?

If I kissed you now, would you respond differently?

The words are glued inside me. Stuck. They feel too huge, and yet so simple, as simple as words scrawled on a piece of notebook paper: Do you like me? Check yes or no.

“Goodnight,” I say, because I just can’t take the leap.

There’s a shuffling in the bed and I feel a gentle press to my hair—a kiss. It’s so sweet that tears prick my eyes.

“Sweet dreams, sugar plum,” West says.

And so I lie in Weston’s bed, feeling so close and yet so far from what I want most in the world, listening as his breath deepens into sleep.

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