“Yes, you’re my choice, Jase. I don’t know where this will go, but I’m committed to figuring that out with you. I will happily have you as my boyfriend.”
Jase released a pent-up breath. “Okay. Good. Because this, us, me not being a dick . . . I’m trying.”
“I know. And it’s working. But also, so many of those labels . . . do people say those things about you, or are they labels you put on yourself?”
“Does it matter?”
“It does, because you need to love who you are, regardless of others’ opinion. You’re the only person who can change the path you are on. You made it to Detroit. You’ve dived deep inside yourself to put words to shadow feelings. You’re talented. And strong. And selfless. Maybe you have done things in the past that have earned those feelings about who you are. But right here, in this moment, you are none of them. They don’t own you, and you don’t have to live up to them.”
And, God, she wanted to shake him and hug him and kiss him all at the same time to reinforce her point. What a misery it must be to carry the weight of all that around with him.
“Are you finished?” Jase asked, removing the tray when she nodded.
“I’m sorry. Did I go too far?”
He kicked off his trainers, and lay down on the bed next to her, placing his head in her lap and wrapping his arm over her thighs. She could feel the solid weight of him pressing into her, and it eased her. She slid her fingers into his hair and simply stroked the curls, letting them fall through her fingers like sand before reaching for more.
“You went further than anyone else has . . . and I needed to hear it. Your faith in me makes me feel like I could conquer all of it.”
That peace she’d found with him on the sofa blanketed them again. Was it possible for someone to have such a profound effect on your life in two weeks?
She didn’t care as she watched Jase snuggle closer. His arm tightened around her, his fingertips pressed gently into her skin and then released her. It reminded her of the way a cat kneaded its paws. His shoulders shifted away from his ears.
Cerys lay back against the pillows and closed her eyes, enjoying the silence that always followed a storm.
Perhaps it was because of his honesty and the way he’d opened up to her. Perhaps it was the music they’d created together. Perhaps it was the forced isolation.
Hell, she didn’t care anymore.
She had a boyfriend. One she hadn’t even slept with or officially been on a date with.
Perhaps her birthday constituted their first date. Who knew? He’d bought her dinner, and she chuckled at the thought.
“What’s funny?” he muttered.
“I was just thinking about whether my birthday constituted our first date, seeing you paid for dinner.”
He opened one eye and looked up at her. “Is that the criteria? Who paid?”
Cerys shrugged. “Nothing about this is conventional, so who knows.”
Jase closed his eye again. “Our first date, for the record, was the day we spent here in the studio, topped with the night we slept together on the sofa. It was a twenty-four-hour date.” He rubbed his hand over her hip, letting his thumb drag closer and closer to her groin, but not close enough to be sexual.
“I like that.”
Jase lifted on one arm, and swiftly tugged her down the bed until she was lying next to him. As he pulled her to his chest, she realised she wasn’t quite ready to have sex with him yet.
Because it would be too easy.
“Relax, Cerys. I just want to hold you. Maybe make out a little. Falling takes lots of kisses and time, so I need your lips and a lot of practice.”
She looked up at him—the look in his eyes so clear and genuine that what she’d thought was him being playful was actually sincere. “You really mean that.”
“Question or statement?”
“Statement.”
His face was so close to hers, she could feel his breath on her cheek. “I’ve never had the patience to become good at anything before, but suddenly I’m inspired.” He brushed his lips against hers, tentatively at first, then allowed the fire to slowly build between them.
Cerys sighed against him, his palms flat against her back. Her body was flush against his from head to toe, but he did nothing more than kiss her. She closed her eyes as his lips trailed from her mouth to her jaw to her neck. When he gently bit the skin on the side of her neck, she squirmed as it tickled, something that made Jase grin.
Her fingers lazily drifted up and down his spine, feeling the muscles ripple beneath her fingers. She loved the utterly capable strength of him. His skin was warm, and he smelled of the soap in the bathroom. Perhaps she should have brushed her teeth, but it was too late to worry about that now. And Jase didn’t seem to mind.
Instead, she allowed herself to be safely transported to a place where she felt treasured and adored. Jase rubbed his thumb along her lip, gently pressing it open, before sucking on it. Their tongues met, softly, a sweet exploration, and without the pressure of it leading to sex, it was filled with unhurried discovery.
Jase hugged her closer, his kisses shifting from deep to gentle and back again.
Cerys threaded her fingers through his hair, grateful for the chance to quietly explore him.
“The snow cleared,” Jase muttered eventually.
Her heart sank at his words. “We need to leave.” Logistics began to crowd her brain. Remembering her father’s papers she had come to retrieve. Emptying the fridge.
“No. We can stay until your dad drives up here and evicts us.” He kissed her neck again, and the soft spot just behind her ear that made her knees weak and her heart pound.
“In other words, we need to leave.”
He nudged her away so they could see each other properly. “You spoil all the fun, Cerys.”
“I know. But one of us has to act like a grown-up.”
“Do we have to go straight away? Or could we just lie a little. Pretend the snow only got cleared this evening and head back tomorrow morning.”
Cuddled up on the bed, she so wanted to agree, but couldn’t. “If it snows again overnight, we’re screwed. But we could check the weather. Maybe stay here for a bit longer today, then drive back later on, head back into the studio tomorrow?”
“Deal,” he said, suddenly climbing off the bed. “Come make some sweet music with me, Cerys.”
And with her hair a curly nest and still in her Christmas onesie, she followed him to the studio.
Several hours later, as they drove back to Detroit, he was still thinking about the taste of her.
And the way she’d gripped his waist while teaching him how to breathe from his diaphragm. The way her fingers had run over his ribs as she’d taught him to control his exhale, while making hissing sounds that had ended up with them both in a pile on the floor, laughing hysterically.
“I’ve got an idea,” Cerys said.
“Is it keep your eyes on the road so we don’t get killed?”
She looked over at him and narrowed her eyes. “Now you’re just being mean.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been beeped at as many times in my entire life as I have since I got in the car with you, sunshine.”
“Twice.”