Rory's Christmas

Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Janet was lying in Steve’s arms on the couch in the flat that he shared with his younger half-siblings. She wanted to ask Steve about his family, but she didn’t know how to approach it. Besides, this was too comfortable—being in his arms, sharing in a companionable silence as they watched TV, sharing in his warmth and his scent and all of him—and she didn’t want to disturb any of it.

She was scared of messing up again.

Steve kissed her neck gently, making her shiver. “Are you hungry?” he murmured against her skin.

Janet shook her head slowly, blond curls tickling Steve’s nose. “No.” She wasn’t sure why it came out as a whisper.

He kissed her neck again, more deeply now—open-mouthed kisses that had a small shiver of pleasure arching through her spine. One of his hands was gently caressing the bit of skin at her stomach, where her shirt had ridden up, and she grasped it tightly as though it was her last anchor before losing herself to him.

“Steve,” she breathed.

He ran his tongue along her ear. Her breath kissed. “Yes, Nettie?”

“I—” she bit back a moan when he nibbled on a bit of skin somewhere between her jaw and her neck. “Steve, stop—we need to—Steve—”

He did stop, but not until a few long minutes later when they had turned so he was on top of her, gently pressing butterfly kisses to every part of her face while she tried to catch her breath and savor his minty scent that was still there on her tongue.

“What is it, Nettie?”

She wanted to cry when he looked into her eyes, his green irises shinning so brightly, which so much fucking—emotion. She couldn’t bare think of the other word. Didn’t dare think of it.

“I wanted to—talk to you—about something,” she said haltingly.

He smiled a soft, warm smile. “About what?”

Janet hesitated a little. “Well, us.”

Steve waited patiently, curling a strand of her hair around his finger and tugging on it playfully.

“What are we?” she blurted out.

Well wasn’t that brilliant, her subconscious groaned. Just ask the damn stupidest question there is, don’t you, Janet?

His lips quirked up in amusement. “I would assume that we have a sort of relationship, Nettie.”

She didn’t freeze at that word like she would’ve several weeks ago. “Yes, but what is it—exactly?” She felt nervous and impatient all at the same time, and she was scared that she would say the wrong thing and scare him off and—“I mean—I, um—care about you—very much—and—”

He stopped her with another kiss.

“Stop,” she mumbled against his lips, pushing helplessly on his chest. He didn’t pull away until he felt like it. Sometimes Janet felt he was the older one, not she. “Steve…”

“Shh,” he whispered. “Just let me taste you a little more.”

She let him taste her a little more.

Then, “Nettie, my heart’s been yours from day one. I know it sounds cheesy and corny and everything you hate, but that’s the damn truth so that’s all I’m going to say and I won’t be ashamed of it.”

He looked so serious, so resolute—and at the same time, so worried and in his eyes Janet saw a reflection of her own feelings—fear, that one of them would break down and run. And Janet knew it was her fault, because she had enticed Steve to fall for her, because that was what she did best and that was what she wanted wanted wanted needed from him but she wasn’t sure she could be what he needed so she was still scared but, fucking hell, she wanted him.