Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
He took a breath and whispered, “I can’t even tell you what that meant to me, or how delicious that cotton candy was. To this day, whenever I’m feeling like my whole world is falling apart, I find someplace selling fresh cotton candy, and I treat myself.”
I asked quietly, “Does it make you feel better?”
A sad little smile curved his lips. “No. But at least I have something good to eat.”
His story made my heart ache. I wrapped my arms around him and kissed his forehead, and he murmured, “I love Christmas. I really do. But for so long, I associated it with feeling sad and lonely, and I guess there’s still a shade of that, even years later.”
I went on holding him, and after a while he whispered, “I don’t know what triggered that memory in particular. Maybe it’s because I was overwhelmed by that stranger’s kindness in that moment, and I’m overwhelmed by yours today.”
The need to take care of Embry and protect him from the world was overwhelming. Not that he needed protecting. He was strong and resilient, much more than he probably realized. But that need was there anyway.
A few moments later, he sat up and handed me a gift. He obviously wanted to lighten the mood, because he smiled at me and said, “Anyway, enough about that. I want you to open your presents, and I really hope you like them.”
Each gift was perfection, because Embry was incredibly thoughtful. One package contained a board game I’d mentioned once, which I’d loved when I was younger. Another held a pair of fingerless gloves he’d crocheted for me, because I’d complained that my hands got cold and a little stiff when I was sketching in my office. There was also a gift bag full of soft, golden-brown caramels he’d made, because he said no Christmas was complete without some sweet treats.
And finally, the smallest package contained two tickets to the national tour of a Broadway musical, which was coming to San Francisco next summer. “I don’t remember mentioning it, but I’ve always wanted to see this,” I told him.
“Yeah, I figured. I have a song from that show on one of my playlists, and whenever it comes on, you start humming along and shaking your hips.”
I grinned at that. “Do I really?”
“Yup. It’s very cute.” He hesitated before saying, “Just so you know, you can take anyone you want to see the show. It doesn’t have to be me.”
“I was actually planning to ask my best friend if he’d come with me.”
He tried to hide his disappointment as he murmured, “Of course.”
“So, here’s me asking. Will you come with me to see the show, Em?”
His eyes went wide. “I’m your best friend?”
“You’re… everything.”
A gorgeous smile lit up his face. “When I bought those tickets, I meant them to be for us, so we could see the show together. But then that seemed like… I don’t know. Like I was making assumptions, I guess.”
“Feel free to assume that whatever I’m doing, I want you with me.”
He launched himself at me and planted a passionate kiss on my lips. When things started to heat up, he asked, “What do you say to meeting me in my bedroom in about fifteen minutes?”
“Yes, please.”
He kissed me again and flashed me a huge smile before darting from the room. I could hear his footsteps as he rushed up the stairs and across the second story. A minute later, the familiar rattle of old pipes told me there was water running.
I was pretty sure I knew what was about to happen, and I was equal parts nervous and excited. The first time we were intimate, it had been wonderful, but it had also been pretty one-sided. I appreciated the way Embry had eased me into the very new world of sex with a man. This time though, I was determined to give more than I took, even if I was clueless and awkward.
To pass the time, I went upstairs to my bathroom and tried to primp. After I brushed my teeth and combed my hair, I was out of ideas, so I ended up pacing around my bedroom.
At about the twelve-minute mark, Embry texted to let me know he needed ten more minutes. I replied: No problem.
Two minutes later, he sent another message: Let’s talk condoms. I get tested regularly, and all my tests have always been negative. I’ve used rubbers whenever I’ve hooked up with random people, but you’re not random or a hookup, so if—
The text ended abruptly. Then another popped up: Oops, I accidentally hit send. Anyway, I wanted to throw the idea out there of giving condoms a skip. You should think it over, which is why I’m texting you ahead of time. I’m fine with whatever you decide. See you in six minutes.