Page 110 of The Risk Taker

“You’re really cold,” I say, shivering when his fingertips graze my ribs. “You should’ve dried your hands after doing the dishes.”

He grins and burrows closer, the blanket shifting with him. “Good thing we’re sharing a bed, huh?”

I laugh quietly, glancing at the inflatable mattress in the corner—the one he hasn’t touched since my parents dragged it out of the attic.

He settles closer until his head rests against my chest.

“Your mom hugged me like a million times today,” he says after a while.

“She did?”

He nods, letting out a soft laugh. “I almost cried like a little bitch the first time.”

A small laugh escapes me and I stare at the ceiling for a second, my throat tightening. I don’t know how long he’s gone without hugging his mom. I can’t even imagine spending the holidays without family.

“You can cry if you want,” I tell him.

He snorts, smiling against my skin. “You’re such a sap.”

I nudge his shoulder. “Shut up.”

He looks up at me, those green eyes I see in my dreams a little sleepy but still somehow so bright. “It was a good day.”

“Yeah,” I say, my lips tugging into a smile. “It was.”

He’s quiet for a long time, his thumb still brushing small circles against my ribs. “I like being here.”

I meet his eyes. “I like having you here. I’m glad you have someone to spend the holidays with.”

Something flickers in his expression and then he exhales, his breath warming my neck. “I haven’t had a present since I was sixteen.”

I still. “What?”

He shrugs, his eyes dropping to the blanket. “I didn’t tell you that to make it a thing. I just… forgot what that felt like. Opening something. Knowing someone thought of me—bought it, wrapped it.” He lets out a laugh. “It was dumb, but it made me feel… I don’t know. Like I existed.”

Something tightens in my chest. I can’t breathe when he looks at me like that.

He lifts a hand, brushing his fingers through my hair, the pads of them warm against my scalp. “You make me feel like I matter, Hayes.”

I can’t speak. Every word I could say feels too small.

I want to tell him he does matter—that no one ever has the way he does—but the words stick, thick in my throat. So I kiss him instead.

It starts off slow, but it quickly deepens when he sighs against my mouth and I pour everything I can’t say into this kiss. The gratitude, the ache for him, the way he’s carved himself into every part of me.

My hand slides over his stomach, feeling the tight, hard muscles and the fast thud of his heartbeat probably matching mine.

He groans softly, his hand finding the back of my neck, fingers curling there as he pulls me closer, his hard cock pressing against my thigh.

His lips brush my ear, his breath hot against my skin. “Want you.”

My pulse jumps. “Then have me.”

He glances at the door, arching a brow. “What about your parents?”

“They’re probably passed out by now. We’ll be quiet.”

His brows shoot up, surprised, and before I can talk myself out of it, his mouth finds my jaw, teeth grazing along my skin. “You’re a little risk taker, huh?”