Page 40 of Bonus Game
Allen huffed and pressed their lips together in a chaste kiss. “You’re a fucking dork.”
His gaze trailed over the bruises on Allen’s neck and his swollen lips, wondering how someone could look so beautiful while dressed only in one of Jake’s shirts and drowning in blankets.
The way Allen’s brown eyes filled with warmth when he smiled at him was driving him crazy. Everything about the man was temptation disguised by soft skin and a sly smile, and Jake had never fallen for it before, but?—
“I love you,” said Jake. “Marry me.”
The words had slipped outagain. Jake normally had more control over himself, but with Allen, it was impossible.
Allen let go of Jake’s shirt, blinking rapidly as he processed what he’d heard, eyes wide with what Jake could only describe as abject terror.
“Here?Now?” Allen unfolded his blankets and looked down at himself. “Jake, I don’t even have underwear on.”
Jake straightened and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, groaning miserably. “Forget it. I didn’t mean to propose. It just slipped out.”
“That’s a pretty big slip,” he heard Allen say. “But at least get some breakfast into me before we havethattalk. I’m so wrung out now, I don’t think I could carry on a conversation if I tried. I feel like I came a thousand times.”
Jake dropped his hands, eyes locking with Allen’s. “Not a thousand. Just ten.”
Allen’s mouth fell open.
Jake waited, unsure if he was about to get yelled at or congratulated. But then Allen shook his head in disbelief and slumped against the arm of the couch.
“Ten fucking orgasms? No wonder I feel drained—I’m literally dehydrated.”
Jake turned and went to the kitchen, fetching the orange juice from the fridge to pour Allen a huge glass. When he handed it to his boyfriend, it earned him a grateful smile that made Jake’s heart ache.
“I’m good now,” said Allen. “Go make breakfast for us like I know you want to.”
Jakedidwant to make them food to replenish their energy, but he also hated the thought of leaving Allen on his own when he could have been…massaging him or something.
His hesitation had Allen glaring at him until he gave up and went back to the kitchen, and Jake quickly got to work on making bacon, eggs and toast so he could return as soon as possible.
Allen had put the TV on to play a Christmas movie and was napping by the time he was finished. Jake gently shook him, kissing Allen on top of his head when he grumbled in protest before taking his plate, and Jake took the spot at the other end of the couch so Allen could stay stretched out.
Well, as stretched out as it was going to get on the tiny piece of furniture.
“What do you want to do today?” Allen asked between bites of his toast. “Now that the gift-giving is over, I assume you just want to relax?”
The petulance in Allen’s tone was cute, and hearing it made Jake grin. He hadallkinds of plans for today, but the majority of them depended on Allen and his tolerance for the festive spirit.
“Your present is under the bed, by the way?—”
Allen didn’t finish the sentence before Jake slammed his plate onto the coffee table and sprinted back to the bedroom. Allen’s laughter chased him around the corner, but Jake was too excited to be embarrassed by his over-the-top reaction.
He dove under the bed, smacking his head on the frame before he was able to get low enough in time, and grabbed onto something wrapped in green and red paper. He dragged out the large box, brows furrowing as he lifted it and tested the weight, trying to guess what was inside.
“The other one is behind the door!” Allen called out, and Jake whirled around, eyes locking on the bedroom door that was open against the wall.
The box didn’t give away any obvious clues about what was inside, but when Jake moved the door to find his other wrapped gift, it wasn’t difficult to tell that it was a hockey stick.
Curious, Jake brought both presents back into the living room and fell onto the couch, mind whirling a mile a minute as he braced himself for what was inside the box. He could feel Allen’s gaze on him, but the man offered no hints as Jake set the stick down and began unwrapping the box.
Inside was a jersey from a team he didn’t recognize, until he saw the name Monroe in bold letters, and then he understood exactly what he was looking at.
“You seemed overly interested in my hockey-playing years, and I have no interest in keeping the stuff,” said Allen, sighing. “Truth be told, I was going to throw it out because I was tired of moving it every time I switched apartments, so do whatever you want with it.”
Jake had never hated his size so much. He wanted to put the fucking jersey on, but there was no way he would ever manage it—he doubted he would get his arms in if he tried.
