He’s even more surprised, but he recovers nicely, placing a hand on my waist and tugging me close as he kisses me back.
I can’t seem to control myself and we are in a public place, so right around the time I let my hand drift between his legs, Jasper’s hand closes around my wrist to stop me.
“We better get the check,” he says with some effort.
I smile and lean my head on his shoulder. “What an excellent idea.”Chapter NineteenJasperWhen Autumn came at me with such greedy lips and wandering hands in the booth at the bar, I envisioned barely making it inside the house because we couldn’t take our hands off each other. I imagined her wrapped around me, kissing me, making it hard to even get down the stairs to our room.
I did not imagine her drunkenly searching kitchen cabinets for a mixing bowl.
“I can’t find it,” she laments, closing a cabinet she has already searched three times and leaning back against the counter.
I won’t lie, it’s amusing as hell. I admire her commitment to this cause, but she’s really going to have to call it.
“You’re too drunk to make cookies,” I inform her.
Thrusting one hand into the air, she dissents. “You’re only too drunk if you… believe you are?” She flashes me a brilliant smile. “I don’t remember what I was going to say.”
Chuckling, I push off the center island and walk over to her. “Why don’t you just wait until tomorrow?”
“But Uncle Arlo’s cookies,” she laments, looking back at all the ingredients spread out on the counter.
“It’s late. Uncle Arlo is sleeping.”
“I know. I wanted them to be there waiting for him when he wakes up.”
She’s too thoughtful, and sorta sad, and so fucking adorable.
I can’t stand to see her sad, even in a fleeting drunk-girl way. I can’t stay away from her, either, so I drift closer and tell her, “He’ll appreciate the cookies just as much if you make them tomorrow.”
She sighs heavily. “I guess you’re right.”
“I’m always right,” I tease, reaching for her hips so I can drag her closer to me.
“I’m sure that’s not true,” she says lightly.
I lean in and kiss the side of her neck. “It is right now. Baking can wait. Bed can’t.”
“Mmm. You’re a bad influence,” she says, fondness glinting in her eyes as she winds her arms around my neck and looks up at me.
“The worst,” I agree, locking an arm around her waist and pulling her close.
“I like it,” she says playfully. “Does that mean I’m on the naughty list this year?”
“I’m on it permanently and I still got you.” I keep one arm locked around her waist, but the other drops and I run my hand over her ass. “The naughty list isn’t so bad.”
She grins and tilts her neck as I dive in, leaving a trail of hungry kisses up and down that sensitive column. I walk her back until her ass bumps the edge of the counter, then I curve my hands under and start to lift her.
“Wait.” She squeezes my shoulder to stop me when she comes up for air.
My gaze darts to her face. “Yeah?”
“I have bad news,” she says, looking so damn serious.
Her drunk-girl mood swings amuse the hell out of me, but I don’t care about this bad news. If the house was on fire right now, I would still prioritize taking her clothes off and getting between her thighs over escaping the fatal flames.
“What’s that?” I ask anyway.
Pulling a sympathetic face, she tells me, “I’m not going to sleep with you.”
I cock an eyebrow. “Oh, yes, you are.”
She shakes her head with such gravity, you’d think the decision is completely out of her hands, and she’s as disappointed by it as I must be. “Nope. I can’t.”
“Is this a period thing?”
Wrinkling her nose up, she shakes her head. “No, it’s… I just can’t.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I know, I’m sorry,” she says, gently pushing against my chest and moving away from me.
I think she’s… serious.
She doesn’t offer any more of an explanation than that, but she seems more pensive as she puts away all the ingredients we bought and then heads downstairs.
I follow wordlessly. I’m confused, but it’s not awkward. I guess it could be, but it doesn’t feel that way to me.
Autumn gets distracted on her way back toward our bedroom. We stayed out late enough that everyone else is in bed already, so we have the entire downstairs to ourselves. Autumn stops to admire the real Christmas tree we put up down there, then she sways into the billiards room and takes a look around.
“Hey, look at this,” she says, beckoning me over to a built-in display case full of model cars and trucks.
I make my way over, glancing at the cars, but focusing more of my attention on her face. “What am I looking at?”