The pendant was in the shape of a guitar.
Holy crap.
Tiffany’s didn’t only do elegant. It did cool.
Totally righteous.
“Ren,” I whispered.
“I’ll take that as you likin’ it.”
I didn’t like it.
I loved it. It was perfect for me.
My eyes moved from the pendant to him. “Thank you.”
His eyes were soft and sweet on me. “You’re welcome, baby.”
I pressed my lips together again then leaned in and pressed them to his mouth. Before I pulled away, he touched his tongue to my lower lip which made me shiver both internally and externally.
It was the kind of shiver Ren usually felt and did something about. But before he could, I pulled away, leaned into him to put the pendant on his nightstand then pushed further over him so my h*ps were at his gut and I was hanging over the side of the bed.
I reached under it to where I hid my present days ago (don’t get excited—I hadn’t since learned how to pick a lock—Ren had given me his key and his security code).
I pulled it out, pushed up and sat on the side of my hip as I set his present on his stomach.
“Fuck,” he murmured, eyes on his present.
“Well, that wasn’t the response expected,” I remarked.
He pushed up to rest against the headboard but did so looking at me, eyes warm but lips quirking, all the while asking, “So, f**k buddies give Christmas presents?”
It was Christmas. I was not going to get annoyed.
I told myself this, smiled and said, “Shut up.”’
He smiled back. My heart squeezed and he opened his present.
Then he burst out laughing when he shook out what was inside.
“Do not take this as me supporting your Bears habit,” I warned and his warm dancing eyes came to me. “But Sweetness is Sweetness and everyone is allowed to worship at the shrine of Walter Payton.”
This I’d proved by giving him a number 34 Bears jersey.
Ren’s hand shot out, hooked around my neck, and he pulled me to him for a hard, closed-mouth kiss.
When he let me back an inch, he said softly, “Thank you, honey.”
The way he said that hit me someplace deep, where he lived in me, where I kept him and what I wished we could be.
I kept it there. I locked it there. And part of me hoped I’d have those slices of our times together for eternity.
“You’re welcome,” I mumbled.
Then the jersey was crushed between us because Ren was on me, his hands were all over me, and I was on my back in his bed.
“Christmas quickie,” he murmured into my neck.