Beards and Holly (Magnolia Point)

Chapter Thirteen

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Holly

M y brain is fuzzy, and my heart pulls tight in my chest. That was intense. Lying here on Jenson’s chest, cuddling like a couple, is probably too much. I should get up and lighten the mood. I don’t want to scare him off. From what I know about him so far, this is probably the most intimate he’s ever been with a woman, and as nice as it feels, I’m starting to long for something long term. I’m falling in love with him, and if he finds out, he’s likely to freak out and run.

So I roll over, grab my clothes and start putting them on. He follows without a word. The things he said, the marks he’s left on me tonight, will forever be burned into my heart. The thought of losing him now hurts more than I thought possible. For a short term, fake fling, this has turned so real for me. I’m terrified it’s going to backfire as soon as he knows.

Part of me really believes he wants something real with me. He’s been so honest and vulnerable, but I can’t start thinking I’m special or I’ll do something stupid like confess my feelings.

I clear my throat. “Ready to get out of here?”

His smile is guarded. Can he tell I’m a bundle of emotions ready to explode?

“Sure. Thanks for bringing me here. It means a lot to me.”

“Yeah. Sure. No problem,” I say in a rush and start turning off the lights.

Jenson resets the cushions to the couch, and we head for the door. I lock up, and we drive home in awkward silence. When I park and turn off the engine, I’m nearly ready to puke with nerves.

“I’ll see ya,” I say, heading for my front door, leaving him in the driveway, looking as confused as I feel.

“Keep it casual, so you can keep him, Holly,” I mutter to myself a few times until I’m safe inside my house.

It’s quiet inside and fucking lonely after the intense connection I just experienced. My skin still buzzes with adrenaline as I head for the shower. My heart hurts, and I don’t understand why. I know I want him. Alone in my room, I wish Jenson was here with me. As I shower, I mourn the scent of his skin.

After slipping into a large T-shirt and sweats, I walk to my window to close the curtains, and my heart skips a beat. Jenson is standing at his window, facing me.

We stare at each other for a long minute. His eyes burn into me as if he’s searching for something. I don’t know what, but he’s not smiling. No crooked grin I’m so used to. No scowl. He almost looks sad.

I watch him in awe as he mouths the words Merry Christmas . I don’t have the chance to echo it back before he’s gone. My heart pulls, but I don’t know what to do. Did I upset him? Does he really want the same things I do? It’s so soon, and I’m so confused and choked with emotions when I crawl into bed.

I toss and turn with the memories of being with him, thinking of a future I want, but feeling silly for dreaming about that so soon after meeting him.

When I wake on Christmas morning, it’s to a slobbery beast, licking my face.

“Oh my god, Gizmo. What a way to scare me.”

After the initial shock, I can’t help but be thrown into a fit of giggles. The fluffy mutt laps his big tongue all over my face as he welcomes himself to my bed. Maybe, keeping the doggy door open was a bad idea.

The doorbell is the only thing that saves me as the brute finally hops off the bed to go down and investigate. I lie in bed for another minute or two, hoping to collect myself before facing Jenson again.

“Merry Christmas, sunshine!”

“Aaahhh!”

It’s not my neighbor coming for his dog. It’s my sister. I jump from bed and hustle downstairs to find a hilarious scene. Daphne is behind Layton, who has Gizmo on his lap on the floor. It’s as if he stepped in to protect her from the giant furball and got taken down. Layton is no small man, so to watch him get mauled with dog slobber is hysterical to me, and I laugh, holding my belly.

“Can’t you do something?” Daphne shouts, not at all amused.

“Gizmo, come here, you silly dog,” I say, regaining myself.

To my surprise, he obeys just in time for his owner to show up in my open doorway.

Jenson looks sexy with messy hair and low-hanging sweat pants. He didn’t even bother with a T-shirt. He must have heard the commotion and sprinted over. The man forgets his dog has a penchant for breaking and entering.

“Gizmo,” he mutters, out of breath, and shakes his head in clear disappointment.

I bite my lip as he comes inside. My eyes drink in his exposed abs and the dusting of dark hair that leads down into the waistband of his gray sweats. I remember the strength he used against me last night, and my muscles remind me how sore I feel and how amazing it was to owned by him. And how much I desperately want it again. Forever if he’ll have me.