“Don’t be ridiculous, Olive. I already saw you when I got up and you look beautiful.” He tries to pull the sheet down again.
Huffing, I hold firm. “Clearly you were looking at someone else.”
He laughs again and I can hear him rummaging around for a couple of seconds before I feel a hand sneaking under the sheet. I’m about to abandon my grip on the top of the sheet so I can defend myself from his wandering magical hands but the arm moves unexpectedly and instead of tickling me or trying to steal my cover it holds his phone in front of my face.
On the screen is a selfie of a groggy, shirtless Brooks with sexy-as-fuck rumpled hair. His free arm is holding the phone but his other arm is cradling me to his chest, crazy hair, smudged mascara and all.
And oh god. The way he’s looking at me. It makes my heart thump out of rhythm and pound in my ears. I can see so clearly how much he loves me.
I’ve been loved by my mother and siblings. My grandmother loves me. But no man has ever looked at me like that. Like I’m his entire world, his gravity, and his reason for breathing.
I’ve seen little glimpses of that look for weeks. It was there when he shook my hand and refused to let it go, when he found me at the bar and stole my purse. It was there every time he touched me.
“You win,” I tell him quietly. “I’m coming out but don’t laugh at me.”
“Never,” he rumbles as I peek over the sheet. He’s wrapped a towel around his waist but he’s still wet from the shower and there are droplets of water running down his chest. God, I want to trace those with my tongue.
“Don’t look at me like that if you want to shower before breakfast,” he warns me, a dark smile lifting one side of his mouth. Oh lord, he’s so tempting, but I catch a whiff of my morning breath and sigh.
“Sorry, I definitely need a shower,” I tell him as I throw back the sheet and scoot my bare ass to the bathroom, making sure I give him a little extra sway as I go. He makes a gratifying groan and flops back on the bed.
The hotel shower isn’t as good as the one at Brooks’ house, but it still beats the hell out of my apartment shower. Fifteen minutes of scrubbing, exfoliating, conditioning, and shaving later I finally feel human again.
I slip into a red wine lace bra, matching panties, and a short crushed velvet wrap dress. I smile at my reflection as I imagine Brooks’ reaction when he sees what I’m wearing underneath. He’s like a bull seeing red when I wear lingerie. This week alone he destroyed two pairs of panties and one of my less sturdy bras. I’m going to have to hit Sally up for some new panties soon if he keeps it up.
The hotel room smells like heaven when I come out, still towel-drying my hair. Brooks is dressed (such a shame) in jeans and a gray sweater, but his feet are bare as he sits at the little dining table. A table piled with breakfast food. It looks like he ordered one of everything off the room service menu.
“Oh sweet baby Jesus, thank you!” I hadn’t realized how hungry I was but now my stomach is growling, demanding one of those waffles with lots of maple syrup. And bacon. Definitely bacon.
Brooks pulls out a chair for me, kissing my neck as I sit. He lifts the warming cloche sitting on top of the plate in front of me, but instead of food there is a small robin’s egg blue box tied with a white satin ribbon.
“Merry Christmas,” Brooks says as he sits down in the chair next to mine and makes a little go on gesture. He’s wearing a huge smile. The smile he only ever gives to me.
“I feel bad though! Your present is at my gran’s house. I thought we were opening presents there later, so I didn’t bring it.”
He gives me a sweeping, predatory gaze that makes me instantly wet. “Just let me unwrap that dress later and see what you’re wearing underneath. That’s all I want for Christmas.”
“Keep looking at me and talking to me like that and I’ll have to get fresh panties,” I mutter under my breath trying to ignore the furious blush in my cheeks.
He chuckles darkly. “How long is Christmas Day with your family?”
“Too long,” I groan as I untie the white ribbon and remove the little lid. Inside the box is a gold necklace with a tiny branch of leaves. “It’s beautiful,” I sigh as I trace a finger along the leaves.
“It’s an olive branch.” Brooks grins as he leans forward, taking the box from my hands and removing the necklace. He stands again, fastening it around my neck.
For a second, I think I’m going to cry. No one has ever given me a gift like this. “That’s fitting, given the way we started out,” I laugh softly. “Thank you. I love it,” I tell him as I lean back for a kiss. Brooks’ fingers trace over the necklace where it rests just below my collarbone, sending a little shiver down my spine.
“I thought you might,” he says as he settles into his chair next to mine, a satisfied grin on his face. “I wanted you to have something you could wear to remind you of how I feel about you.” I had been looking down at my necklace, admiring the delicate olive leaves, but my eyes jump back to his face.
“How do you feel about me?” I whisper.
He takes my hand, kissing the backs of my fingers while his stormy eyes track my face with an intensity I’ve never seen from anyone else. Sometimes when he looks at me like that I swear he can see right through to my soul.
His eyes crinkle with a hint of a smile. “I’m in love with you, Olive. I love everything about you.”
His smile has turned vulnerable, like he’s afraid I’m going to tell him to hit the road. I can’t help tearing up this time. My whole life, I never thought I’d find someone like Brooks. Hell, I never thought I’d be able to even let someone close enough to love me, let alone love them in return. But I do. I love him and trust him with all my heart.
“I love you too,” I say, blinking back tears. Reaching out to touch his cheek, I try to memorize the look on his face and the feeling of his soft scruffy beard under my fingers. I’ve never seen him smile so hard. I’m so full of joy that I feel like a balloon about to burst. Can being too happy make someone explode? Because I just might.