She cocked her head. Justin definitely had his demons, and she wanted to be there for him. Together they could try to heal each other. With sex, laughter, and friendship…and maybe even love, if she could relax long enough to let it happen.
Not that she’d convinced herself it was a good idea, considering their pasts and the shitty timing. She was just so tired of fighting with everything—including herself. Perhaps she was overanalyzing.
That made her grin as she snuggled into his side. Perhaps? Yeah, right.
They fell asleep in a tangle on the couch midafternoon. Neither of them had mentioned scrounging up a Thanksgiving feast, and since it was still snowing out, the idea of trying to dig the Jeep from its snowbank held little appeal.
But sleeping in the middle of the day encircling each other like kittens? Pure freaking heaven. Even the lingering soreness in her bruised body couldn’t compete with the sheer comfort he provided.
If she hadn’t gotten hungry again, the perfection of the day wouldn’t have been tainted. Leave it to her ravenous appetites to screw shit up.
“There she is,” he murmured sleepily, stretching his hand over her belly. “That monster I’m so driven to feed.”
She giggled and stretched, hating to have to disturb the comforting warmth they’d created. “Why do you think I do so much Pilates?”
“I think it’s cute. Much preferred to those chicks who only poke at lettuce leaves and claim they can’t eat another bite.” Speaking of biting, he was currently nibbling on her shoulder. Not that her eager pussy knew the difference. She’d gone as hot and damp as if that ball stud in his tongue was zeroing in on her clit. “What should our Thanksgiving feast consist of?”
“Pizza?”
“If only any place delivered on Thanksgiving.”
“We could make one. You have most of the stuff. I poked around earlier.” She wrinkled her nose. “Though seriously, stock pepperoni for me. What am I supposed to nosh on when I get late-night cravings?” She heard herself belatedly and bit her lip. “I mean—”
“If stocking pepperoni will get you to come over late at night, consider me your processed-meat pusher.” He kissed the tip of her nose, his eyes glinting. “Pizza for Thanksgiving, huh?”
“Why not? You even have a can of mushrooms. And I think I saw a smooshed red onion at the back of the fridge.” Yawning, she popped to her feet and pointed out the window. “Look, it finally stopped snowing.”
Snow glittered from every branch and blanketed the ground, shimmering like crushed diamonds. The pink-and-blue-streaked sky only emphasized the stark whiteness of their surroundings. If she stepped outside, she knew it would be eerily silent, the world set on mute.
As much as she loved snow—as a lifetime upstate New Yorker, she’d learned early on that not enjoying it meant she’d be perpetually miserable—she hated the silence. She could fight her pervasive, bone-deep loneliness when there was noise and activity around her, but the roar of nothing filled her ears, beating in her chest like a hollow heartbeat. Even the idea of Justin leaving her alone in his house while he dug out his vehicle made her skin chill.
Silly. She wasn’t ten, and a little quiet never hurt anyone.
He stood up behind her and linked his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. “So it has. Guess that means I have to shovel us out, huh?”
“You don’t have to yet.” Strangely deflated at the idea they wouldn’t have to be sequestered in their winter oasis any longer, she reached down to stroke his hands where he’d laced them together. “I’m fine with staying here forever.”
“Me too.” She felt his smile against her cheek, along with the brush of stubble since he hadn’t shaved. “But if you’re really not too keen on pizza, we can go check out the Super K, see if it’s still open.”
She turned over his wrist and looked at his watch. “At four p.m. on Thanksgiving? Doubtful. Unless you want to make a pepperoni run…” Grinning over her shoulder, she wiggled her butt against his groin. “Though I think we have plenty of meat right here.”
“God, you are so bad. Good thing it’s not Christmas, or else I’d be carting your fine butt to church.”
“Too late there.” She kissed the smirk off his face and gestured toward the kitchen. “Now go on, go do your manly thing. I have a pizza to make. And if we don’t have a needed ingredient, prepare to trek your ass out to hunt and gather.”
He winked. “We’re probably in luck. I made pizza this summer.”
“Is that your way of saying your yeast is probably expired?” She laughed and pushed on his chest. “Go on, get out of here. I gotta cook.”
At the front door, he glanced back. “Will you wear an apron?”
She glanced down at her clothes from yesterday. She was really tired of her jeans and top, but wearing his clothes felt a little too intimate. And a little too nice. “If it cranks your engine, sure.”
“Just an apron?”
His blatantly lascivious look made her grin. “For you, anything.”
“I’ll remember that.” He grabbed his coat and scarf off the hall tree. “Now get in there and cook for me.”