Page 26 of The Christmas Extra

“Ass.”

“Sorry, is there a difference between ass and donkey?” he asked, his breath warm, moist puffs moving over my neck. God this brought back memories. He’d always loved to cuddle after sex and I adored tending to him, holding him, kissing him, rubbing cream into his skin after we’d come down and bathe.

“No,you’rethe ass,” I replied, pressing a kiss to his hair. My pulse was jacking up steadily. I was utterly terrified. I was not only exposing my dick—which still had a condom on it and would need to be tended to shortly—but my soul. He sniggered softly. “I think asses are donkeys, just wild ones.”

“Noted.” He kissed my thumping jugular. “Are we okay?”

“Define ‘we’.”

“Well,” he lifted his cheek from my shoulder to look right into my eyes, “we, as in the two of us, as a possible reconciliation thing.”

That was when I mentally bottomed out. “You...reconcile?”

“Maybe, if you’re able to trust me enough.” He studied my face in that way of his that stripped away all of my defenses. I shifted under him, uncomfortable as hell to have all my yearnings suddenly pulled from the dark to see the sun. Hope. No, that was far too much to even dream of, wasn’t it? I’d been ready to tell him I still cared about him and wanted to be friends. But reconciling? A second chance? “Okay, I take that hesitance to be a sign that you’re not ready yet.”

“Tony, I just...” I felt as if someone had downloaded the world wide web into my brain. And since it was an old brain that still ran on technology akin to that of a Walkman, my synapses were overloading. “I...trust is earned.”

“I know, and I’m willing to do that.” He cupped my face in his hands and then touched his lips to mine. Oh gods it was a sweet kiss. “Let me try. I know that’s asking a lot, Stillman, and I am ready to do the work.”

“Prove it,” I countered instantly. A truly asinine reply because how could he prove he was to be trusted to not jet off again unless he didn’t jet off again? But he had to jet off again.

“Okay, I lied when I told you that Mignon had wisdom teeth pulled. He did not.”

I blinked, then grunted. What kind of lawman was I when this kind of obvious thing had not chimed off a bell? I’d seen him eating crunchy stuff several times now. Did anyone do that after having wisdom teeth extracted? No, at least not when I’d gone through it. Christ. I was a moron. Someone should take my badge and give it to a chimp.

“I know you’re angry at me now,” he said as the church bell in the Presbyterian steeple chimed nine times.

“No, not really. I’m mad at me for seeing him eating granola bars and not putting two and two together.” Did I not want to make that connection because it would show me that Tony, yet again, had been unworthy of my trust? “Why did you—no, wait, I think I got it? You wanted to be with me, alone, in my place to try to win me back?” He nodded. My jaw dropped. “Seriously?”

“Oh yes, seriously.” He went to leave, but I held him in place. I liked him in my arms, his cheek on my shoulder, as the smell of sex wafted off his skin. “I need to get up and cover my ass.”

“Nope, you’re staying put until we hash this out. No leaving,” I firmly said, and he bobbed his head in understanding. With him back where he belonged, he let his brow rest against my collarbone while his hand snaked up the front of my shirt to rest on my chest.

“I shouldn’t have manipulated things as I did, but I knew you would never let me come within shouting range unless I played on your noble side.”

Noble? Hell, I was far from noble. “What the hell are you talking about with that noble shit? I’m not virtuous. I’m just a cop trying to keep his town safe.”

“And that makes you laudable. Stop rolling your eyes. You’re selfless. Most public servants are like that. The opposite of someone like me who knew the young man he was in love with adored him but hared off and left that beautifully strong yet delicate young man behind.”

Strong and delicate. Did those words even belong side-by-side? And was that really me? “You had a dream, something that you loved and studied for,” I mumbled, stunned as the words fell out of my mouth. Was I really forgiving him?

Since when do we defend the mook?

Since forgiveness gives us freedom.

“Yes, but I could have asked you to come. Ishouldhave asked you to come, but I didn’t, and do you know why?” he asked, his nose lying on my throat, his hand pressed tightly to my breast. I was sure he could feel the thump-thump-thump of my heart in his palm. He had to have. It was thundering so madly that it was close to busting free.

“No,” I squeaked out. I suspected it was because he didn’t love me enough, but no way was I saying that out loud. A man had to cling to some of his pride.

“Because I knew you would come. And I was a stupid jerk who didn’t want to have to face you with rejection after rejection after rejection. My fragile, immature ego couldn’t bear the thought of you seeing me washing dishes while you were putting your degree to work. So, I left you behind like an unwanted sock.” I felt a slight shudder move through his body as his voice thickened. He was crying. “Can you forgive me?”

And there it was, the question that I’d mulled, chewed, and debated over for eons. Could I forgive him? Should I forgive him? Sure, I knew what the angel Stillman would say. Turn the other cheek. Forgive others their transgressions. If you hold anything against anyone, forgive them and so on.

But what would that demon say if asked? He’d point out that this was a trust issue and not just about forgiveness. Since Tony had hurt me so badly, I’d never truly been able to love another man again, not wholly, due to his betrayal. He’d encourage me to enjoy this moment of revenge pain. And trust me, for many years, I dreamed of seeing this man weeping and begging for one more chance. I’d assumed it would feel good, but...it really didn’t. Not like it should have, which only added to the maelstrom of emotions swirling around in my head.

He had said I was delicate. And as much as I should rail and posture about having such an unmasculine term applied to me, it was an apt description. Iwasdelicate. We all were. Hearts were finespun things. Crafted out of emotion and tissue paper, easily rented and ruined. And he had destroyed me, my heart, and my ability to trust fully.

“I need time to think about it,” I replied candidly.