Satisfying, page 2
“I just wanted normal, you know? I’ve spent my whole life living in the weirdest situations. First, in a cult, then in Hollywood, then back on the farm. I just wanted to find a nice, normal guy like my brother did, have somebody who’s, like, super romantic and gets down on one knee. We get married and have some kids, maybe? I don’t know. Instead, I’m married to an alcoholic who clearly likes to fight and dresses up like Santa and is dumb enough to get seduced into marriage by a virgin in an elf costume after the worst pick up line ever. What the frick?”
“First, I’m not an alcoholic.” It wasn’t a total lie. Alcoholics go to meetings. “Second, I don’t like to fight. I get paid to fight. I’m an MMA fighter. I suppose I’ll have to concede to the seduction, though I don’t think anybody could fault me for that. You look very…enticing…in that costume.”
Jacob looked down at his lap as if to make sure the blanket and mattress covered his lower half. “Oh, wow. I never thought I’d be that guy, you know? The one seduced by a pretty face, but like, yeah, I guess I am ‘cause that definitely did things for me.”
“I’ve never in my life had anybody describe me as pretty,” Connolly said with a laugh. “My nose has been broken half a dozen times, several of my teeth aren’t mine, and my jaw is crooked, if you look closely.”
Connolly watched as Jacob leaned closer, like he couldn’t help himself. Connolly didn’t stop to think, just brushed his lips over Jacob’s, his tongue dipping inside to taste the coffee on the boy’s tongue, before pulling back.
“Oh, wow,” Jacob said again, voice filled with wonderment.
“Yeah, wow,” Connolly agreed, leaning back in for another taste.
But instead of soft lips, he was met with only air. When Connolly opened his eyes, the boy was rolling off the bed like a paratrooper coming in for a landing. “I-I have to pee,” he said as he stood, walking towards the first closed door.
“That’s the—” Connolly winced as a shit ton of gear showered onto the boy, sending him stumbling backwards. “Closet,” he finished.
Jacob glowered at Connolly from over one delicate shoulder, still wearing the blanket like a shawl. Connolly pinched his lips together to keep from laughing at the look of consternation on Jacob’s face, pointing to the other closed door before falling back onto the bed and staring up at the ceiling. He laced his fingers behind his head, letting the smile he’d been holding back spread across his face. He was in an unreasonably good mood, and he had no idea why.
It wasn’t a lie. Jacob did have to pee. He also had to get away from Connolly. He didn’t know what drunk Jacob had intended when he’d propositioned that huge, furry lumberjack of a man, but now, he definitely wasn’t sure he was tall enough to ride that ride. Whatever liquor-fueled courage he’d had last night had fled with his high, leaving behind just plain old boring Jacob, who was appealing to exactly nobody.
It wasn’t like he could fake it either. He had no idea what he was doing. He’d kissed two people in his whole life, and he was pretty sure nobody would be writing recommendation letters off either. He tried to give himself a pep talk while he relieved himself, but he couldn’t even take himself seriously in his ridiculous get-up. Where had it even come from? Had he bought this? He wasn’t sure what was worse—the thought that he’d bought the outfit or the fear that he’d borrowed it from somebody. But who? Who in the world owned an outfit like that?
Wyatt. Robby’s ex-boyfriend’s crazy best friend. But he barely knew Wyatt. Had never said more than five words to him before last night. How did somebody go from ‘nice to meet you’ to ‘can I borrow your skanky elf costume to seduce Santa’? How had it actually worked? Like, Connolly wasn’t movie-star hot—though Jacob guessed he did look a little like an older, rougher Tom Hardy—which was totally beside the point. The point was Connolly wasn’t sleek or well dressed or fancy, but there was something about him that made Jacob’s knees weak when the older man looked at him like he was the Big Bad Wolf and Jacob was Little Red Riding Hood. In retrospect, the red blanket may have been a poor choice. Waving a cape in front of a bull.
Jacob sighed and stared at the dainty silver ring. It was really pretty. Too thin to be a man’s wedding band. It was likely a woman’s. Jacob had long, slender fingers. A men’s band would have probably overwhelmed his finger, unlike the thick gold band on Connolly’s hand. It had glowed against his tan and looked like it had been there forever. A strange warmth filled his stomach at the idea of having a man like that as his husband. He didn’t even know him, but the idea made him feel…safe, something Jacob had never felt in his whole life. Even with his father dead, it was like Jacob could still feel his hold on him.
“You can’t hide in the bathroom forever,” Connolly said from the other side of the door. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’ll keep my lips to myself. I think I should try to make us some breakfast. Do you like eggs?”
“Uh, yeah. Sure. I’ll be right out,” Jacob said.
After washing his hands, he finally opened the door to find Connolly holding a bundle of clothes. “Here. These are my baby sister’s, but they’ll probably fit you. She’s only, like, an inch or so taller than you.”
Jacob wanted to say something mean, but the statement wasn’t said with any malice. He’d never cared about being small before, but, suddenly, it made a difference. Connolly had changed into a pair of well-worn jeans that looked soft to the touch and an olive henley that made his eyes look more gold than green.
“Thanks,” Jacob said, finally taking the bundle of clothes.
“I’ll leave you to get changed. You can meet me in the kitchen when you’re ready. We can talk about our situation.”
Their situation. Their marriage. Married and divorced in less than forty-eight hours. Guess Robby wasn’t the black sheep of the family anymore. He wondered which his father would have found more disgraceful—Jacob marrying a man or getting a divorce? Who was he kidding? Every sin was equal in Jeb Shaw’s eyes. They all usually warranted a beating. But he was dead. Dead but still the devil on Jacob’s shoulder.
Jacob quickly stripped out of his elf shirt and stockings but kept the half underwear. They didn’t cover his butt, but they at least helped hide his hard-on from Connolly. He didn’t need to know that the smallest little kiss had him ready to go off like a rocket. He slipped on the hunter green hoodie and the red and black checkered flannel pajama pants, grateful that Connolly had included a pair of thick gray socks, even though he had to pull them almost to his knees.
He carefully folded the blanket and set it back over the chair in the corner before wandering into the kitchen. The smell of fried eggs made his stomach queasy but also made it growl. Connolly gave him a once-over that had Jacob trying not to blush. He sat in his chair from earlier, pulling his knees to his chest once more and wrapping his arms around himself.
“You cold? I can put more wood on the fire? There’s no heat in the cabin, but usually the fire is enough. It’s not a big space.”
“No, I’m fine, thank you. It’s nice, actually.”
He watched the large man move around the smaller space with an ease and comfort that made Jacob jealous. He wasn’t sure he ever felt truly comfortable anywhere. He didn’t really fit in with the zealots he’d grown up with, and, if last night proved anything, he didn’t really mesh with the secular crowd either. He was alone in the world.
Jacob sipped his now cold coffee until Connolly brought two plates heaping with food, plopping a fork onto Jacob’s plate. His mouth watered, even as his stomach churned. It wasn’t the food. The eggs and bacon looked cooked to perfection, but his stomach sloshed.
“Just take a small bite. I promise it will help,” Connolly said, giving a nod of encouragement.
Jacob took a timid bite, grimacing as he swallowed. He kept it down. He tried another bite, and then another, until half his plate was empty, then pushed it away. “Thank you. You’re right, I do feel better.”
“You still look pale. Why don’t you go sit by the fire? It can get pretty frigid in these parts.”
Jacob gave a stilted nod, going to sit on the ancient sofa with its ugly floral print. Connolly disappeared back into the bedroom, returning once more with the maroon blanket, covering Jacob up like he was a child before taking a seat on the opposite end of the couch. He nestled into the blanket, giving Connolly a grateful smile. “Thank you.”
Jacob leaned his head against the back of the sofa, his body turned towards the larger man.
“Do you live here all alone?” Jacob asked finally.
Connolly shrugged. “Part-time. Mostly, I’m on the road with clients. I have an apartment in the city. This is just my family cabin. I just happen to be the only one left.”
“It’s really nice,” Jacob said, looking around.
It wasn’t a lie. The place was homey, lived in, like once upon a time, there’d been family dinners and kids in sleeping bags in front of the fireplace. There were even faded photos of actual happy people with their arms around each other. Jacob didn’t have a single picture of anybody in his family that hadn’t been clipped from a tabloid or news article.
Connolly looked around his cabin like he’d never seen it before, a sort of smirk on his face. “I don’t think I’ll ever get a spread in Architectural Digest, but it’s a good place to come when I need to be alone.”
Jacob frowned. “Then why did you bring me here?”
Connolly gave a shrug and a soft smile. “I guess drunk me wanted to be alone…with you.”
“I-Is this, like, where you bring people to hook up?” Jacob asked, hoping that was the right term.
“The only person I’ve ever brought here was my daughter,” Connolly said, looking once more at the blanket covering Jacob.
Once more, blood filled his cheeks, making him flush. “I’m plenty warm. You… You can have it back. It’s clearly important to you.” He tried to shuck off the blanket, but Connolly placed a hand on his calf, his touch somehow burning through the layers straight down to Jacob’s marrow.
“It’s okay. She passed a long time ago. I don’t mind you using it.”
Jacob surprised himself by scooting closer. The look on Connolly’s face said Jacob’s movement surprised him, too. When he was close enough for his toes to almost touch Connolly’s thigh, he looked up at him. “Can I… Do you mind if I ask what happened to her?” Connolly’s brows knitted together, his mouth turning down at the corners, and Jacob instantly felt a pinch in his chest. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”
Connolly cleared his throat. “No. No, it’s fine. Like I said, it was a long time ago.” He shifted his weight, body twisting until his thigh now covered Jacob’s feet. He didn’t move away. “It was a car accident. My ex-wife was driving home from work. She’d just picked up Maggie from aftercare. She had a seizure, ran off the road. They didn’t make it.”
“I’m so sorry,” Jacob said, tears springing to his eyes.
Connolly looked stricken at his tears. Jacob didn’t blame him. It wasn’t his family. He tried to blink them away and then swiped at them with the back of his hand. “I’m sorry. I’m a crier,” he said, sniffling.
Connolly handed him the box of tissues sitting beside him. The box was hidden inside one of those hand crocheted holders favored by grandmothers. It was old and tacky. Jacob loved it. He clutched the box to him. “I even cried when my dad died, and he was a monster,” he tried to explain. “I’m really sorry.”
“Why are you sorry for crying?” Connolly asked, leaning forward and running his thumb along Jacob’s cheek, wiping at a stray tear.
The touch hardened Jacob’s nipples, which only made him feel even more like a morbid creep. “What kind of weirdo cries over a stranger’s family?”
Connolly shook his head, giving him a half smile. “A compassionate one?”
Jacob blew his nose loudly. “Compassion wasn’t really seen as an asset at the farm.”
“Yeah, it seemed to mess your brother up pretty good for a while.”
“Well, he became a preacher, so I’m not sure he’s done being messed up,” Jacob said, feeling guilty about the bitterness creeping into his voice.
“Not a fan of organized religion?” Connolly questioned.
Jacob was suddenly much more aware of their proximity, bodies turned towards each other, Connolly’s hand resting on the back of the sofa, close enough for Jacob to lean into his palm if he wanted to. It seemed like a weird thing to want, so he forced himself to focus on the question. “Robby is a good person. He has his heart in the right place. I love what he wants to do, making Christianity more Christ-like, making it open to everybody. I just don’t want any part of it. Any of it. Are you religious?”
“No. Not really.”
For some reason, the idea relieved Jacob, his shoulders sagging. “That’s good.”
This time, Connolly’s smile was playful, his finger running down the slope of Jacob’s nose. “Oh, yeah. Why’s that?”
Jacob’s heartbeat stumbled as much from the playful touch as from the question. Why would Jacob care if Connolly was religious or not. They weren’t really married. They weren’t in a relationship, not even in the most casual of ways. Yet, here Jacob was, acting like they had to match on some deeper level. “I-I didn’t mean anything by it. I just meant… I don’t know.”
“Relax, elf. I’m just teasing you.” Connolly brushed the hair off Jacob’s forehead. “You are just full of surprises.”
Jacob longed to lean into the touch. He hated how much he wanted this stranger. “Why’s that?”
“Because you seem so innocent, yet I found you half dressed in my bed this morning.”
“Technically, I found you,” Jacob interrupted.
“You don’t swear, but you’re not religious. You seem painfully shy, but you ask bold questions.”
“You didn’t have to ans—”
Warm lips covered his before he could finish his thought, tongue slipping inside in a way that made Jacob whimper. When Connolly took his chin gently between his thumb and forefinger to tip Jacob’s head how he wanted it, every nerve ending seemed to come alive. Connolly smelled like pine and tasted like coffee and maple bacon, and his beard scratched in the best possible way.
Connolly wasn’t lying. This sweet boy with his soft heart, pretty mouth, and wide sea glass eyes, was full of surprises. Like the sounds he made as Connolly explored his mouth or the way his fingers clenched in Connolly’s shirt, like he wanted to crawl into his lap or pull him down on top of him. Connolly was fine with either of those scenarios if it meant he could keep touching Jacob.
The feeling appeared to be mutual. Each time Connolly tried to pull away, Jacob followed, swaying into Connolly’s space until their lips met again, and, God help him, he was charmed by it. Their kisses grew longer until there was no way to tell where one stopped and another started. Jacob kissed like he talked, eagerly, excitedly, hiding nothing, and knowing he was responsible for the tiny whimpers going straight to Connolly’s dick.
He needed to cool down before things went too far. This time, when he put some distance between the two of them, Jacob gazed up at him, eyes glassy, lips red and slick, beard burn covering his chin. “Wow.”
Connolly couldn’t help but lean back in for another quick kiss. “Yeah, I’ll say.”
Jacob scooted away from him, like he also needed space. Connolly found he didn’t like the sudden coldness where Jacob had once sat, but he didn’t say anything. He wasn’t usually one to ponder things on any deeper level. He found that there was rarely an answer that provided any comfort. It was best to take things as they came and not get too attached to anyone or anything. It helped when they inevitably left or were ripped away without warning.
But Jacob was unlike anybody he’d ever met, and even drunk Connolly must have thought so because he never brought anybody to his cabin, drunk or sober. Ever. This was his sanctuary, the place he went when the outside world was too much or when he just wanted to remember Chloe. Yet, an hour ago, he’d woken to find the world’s most adorably scandalized elf in his bed, and now, he couldn’t look away. He was like one of those paintings, pretty from a distance, but once you got a closer look, there were a million tiny things making that distant picture beautiful. Yeah, Jacob was definitely getting under Connolly’s skin.
He watched as Jacob gazed at the fire’s embers, a furrow forming between his brows.
Connolly frowned. “What’s the matter?”
Jacob’s gaze snapped to his. “What? Oh, nothing.”
Connolly raised a brow. “It doesn’t seem like nothing.”
Jacob shrugged. “It’s stupid. Childish stuff.”
“Now, you have to tell me,” Connolly said.
Jacob sighed. “I’m just kind of sad that this is my first Christmas as somebody’s husband and it’s not going to be how I pictured it.”
“How did you picture it?” Connolly heard himself ask.
Jacob returned to staring into the flames. “Decorating a tree, baking cookies, drinking hot chocolate, watching Christmas movies, snuggling on the couch with somebody who actually wants to be with me, lots of sex.”
Connolly coughed in surprise at the last part of Jacob’s fantasy married life, earning a sharp look from Jacob, like he wasn’t sure if Connolly was making fun of him. He wasn’t. It was a sweet fantasy for a sweet boy who’d done nothing to earn Connolly’s cynicism over the holiday.
He hadn’t decorated in years. Not since his sister, Jill, had left to teach dance at an academy in France. There was no reason to decorate for himself. But still, if there was something he could do to make Jacob smile, maybe he should. “We could…do those things. If you wanted to.”
Jacob, once more, studied Connolly’s face, like he was trying to guess his motives. His pink tongue darted out to lick his lower lip before he swallowed audibly and crawled back to sit beside Connolly, looking him dead in his eyes, their noses all but touching. “All of those things?” he asked.
