As he puts the game in the console, I cross my legs in front of me and settle back against the couch. Greyston sees this and eyes me curiously. "What are you doing?"
"Getting ready to game," I tell him, holding out my hands. "Controller, please."
Greyston shakes his head, slaps his hands against mine, and clasps them before pulling me to my feet. "This game doesn't use controllers."
I'm not so in the dark that I don't know what this means, and I suddenly feel nervous. "I don't know about this."
"Come on," Greyston says, waving his hand at the TV, and I stifle a giggle at the sight. He moves through a variety of screens until we get to one where we select the game we want to play. "You pick."
"Oh, um…" I look at all of my options, finally settling on tennis. It's been years since I've played, but I feel I'm probably better at that than, say, skiing.
I have to admit, it's a lot of fun—even if I feel a little silly at first. Naturally, Greyston wins the first several games, but I'd like to think it has more to do with him trying to make me laugh on purpose with his over-exaggerated arm movements whenever he hits the ball.
An hour later, I'm feeling pretty worn out from both the game and the non-stop laughter. "Okay," I tell Greyston. "While you kicking my ass repeatedly has been wonderful, I'm wiped. What do you say we head to bed…that is, if you want to?"
Greyston smiles. "Of course I want to. I'll just tidy up in here, and I'll come say goodnight."
I pause in the doorway, biting my lower lip. “Or, you could join me?” I sound uncertain, and I know it’s because I’m not used to initiating stuff like this.
"Perfect," he quickly agrees, putting my mind at ease.
Back in my room, I turn down my comforter and crawl in to wait for Greyston. It's not long before he joins me, wearing flannel pants and a t-shirt and crawling into bed behind me. He wraps his arm around me and holds me close, his fingers working the hem of my shirt up so he can lightly trail them over the exposed flesh of my abdomen.
“So, Christmas is coming up,” he reminds me. “What do you want?”
I sigh when his finger tips tickle my ribs. “Honestly, I just want to hibernate. I want to relax and not have to worry about work or school.”
“That sounds nice. Does your family have any big traditions?”
“Not too bad. We fly my gran out and have an intimate family dinner. How about you?”
Greyston nods. “Yeah. Mom usually cooks, and we sit down, just the three of us. When I was younger, we used to vacation in the Canadian Rockies for a couple weeks. We’ve been too busy for that lately.” He sounds sad about this, so I snuggle in closer.
I yawn. “I wonder if our moms would agree to having a big Christmas here. That could be fun.”
“That would be pretty great,” he agrees. “Maybe we should invite them over to suggest it.”
I don’t mean to, but the yawn I’d been fighting breaks loose.
Greyston laughs, kissing the back of my neck, and he pulls my body closer to his as he whispers, "Sweet dreams, beautiful."
I hum contentedly. "Goodnight, Greyston.”
The way his strong arms are wrapped around me, holding me close, makes me feel safe and secure, and it's not long before I finally fall fast asleep.
Chapter 20
My phone buzzes from the counter while I finish sweeping up the kitchen floor. I rush to it, knowing that Greyston planned to let me know when his plane landed after a long three days away. It was scheduled to land about ten minutes ago, so I had a pretty good feeling this was him.
Excited, I tap out a quick message. Thanks to a surge of adrenaline, my hands are shaking so hard that I have to keep retyping a few words in order for the message to be legible. My thumbs are so damn uncooperative.
I sit on one of the stools at the island and pull my feet onto the seat, wrapping my arms around my legs and resting my chin on my knees as Greyston and I text back and forth for the next hour. I’m so freaking excited for him to be home. I only wish we had the day to ourselves; our paintball game was scheduled for this afternoon, so we wouldn’t be alone until dinner.
Thankfully, I took the night off so we can spend that time together doing whatever we want.
A positively wicked idea strikes me unexpectedly, so I spring off the chair and fly up the stairs to my room. I quickly shed my shirt and pull the blanket of my freshly made bed back before climbing under the sheet. I run my fingers through my hair, and then I hold my camera up, holding the edge of the sheet in a way that barely covers my naked chest and shows a lot of my upper leg.
Happy with the photo, I attach it to a message: