Christmasvaganza: #SuperShort


A Snowy Surprise

It started snowing when I walked home from work. As if I hadn’t had enough shit this year already. I was fed up with the crazy workload at school, with my crappy job, my car breaking down, and unhelpful parents. Most of all I was sick and tired of goddamn Christmas. I’d put in my earbuds so I wouldn’t be exposed to another crappy rendition of Santa Claus Is Coming to Town.

I wasn’t normally the impersonation of the Grinch, but I didn’t feel very cheery this year. All semester, I’d been looking forward to finally seeing Grant at Christmas, and then my useless fucking car had to break down and I had to use the money I’d saved for the plane ticket for repairs. And of course, my parents wouldn’t lend me the money. Instead, they’d taken the opportunity to lecture me. Consider this an important life lesson, Braddock. We can’t always get what we want.

“Fuckers,” I muttered and kicked the snow on the ground for good measure.

Grant had been so disappointed when I’d broken the bad news to him. His usual bright smile had dimmed and it was as if someone had snuffed out his inner light. I was pretty miserable myself. We’d planned to spend his two days off cuddling and having wild monkey sex, and now those glorious plans were canceled.

It was a miracle he even had any days off. He went to medical school—he wanted to be a brain surgeon—and his schedule was even crazier than mine. There was no way I could ask him to spend half his free time on a plane to come and see me.

Which was why I would spend Christmas all by myself. Not getting my brains fucked out by my gorgeous boyfriend.

Falling in love with someone who lived on the other side of the country sucked hairy donkey balls. I couldn’t wait until I graduated this summer. We’d decided I’d pack my stuff and move to his part of the country. With a degree and my mad computer skills, I could get a job anywhere. He, on the other hand, still had a gazillion years to go before he became a real doctor.

Ah, well. At least I didn’t have to work tomorrow or on Christmas Day. Meant I could order some greasy Chinese food and stay in bed all day. Not being tortured by carols or stressed out holiday shoppers was a blessing. Maybe I could even talk Grant into a Skype sex session?

I turned onto my street and was hit by a gust of wind so intense it knocked me three feet backward. I fucking hated snow. Especially when it came down sideways. But I soldiered on and soon I could see my apartment building. My parents didn’t mind paying for a place of my own because they didn’t want me living on campus, but they couldn’t fork over enough cash for me to go see my boyfriend who I hadn’t seen IRL for months.

I clenched my teeth. No use in agonizing over that now. That would only give me heartburn and grumpy lines on my face.

Smacking my hand over my ear to protect it from invading snow, I walked the last few feet. I didn’t really look where I was going, so I almost slammed right into him.

“Heeeey, careful,” he said and grabbed my arms and I looked up and my breath hitched and I almost fainted.


“Hi, Brad.” He smiled, showing off his perfect teeth.

I squeezed my eyes shut and opened them again and he was still there. So he wasn’t a hallucination caused by snow-induced delirium. Good. Excellent. Now, talk. Say something, Brad.

“What are you doing here?” I sounded breathless as if I’d hiked a hundred miles without stopping even for a second. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. His blond hair with the bangs slanting over his forehead was windblown and adorable. His cheeks were red and his eyes were bright and I was so fucking happy to see him I was afraid I’d break down and cry.

“Surprise!” The twinge of uncertainty in his voice jolted me out of my shock and I flung myself at him.

He was cold as if he’d been waiting for a long time, but I didn’t care. I wound my arms around his shoulders and buried my freezing nose in the crook of his neck. He chuckled and pulled me close. “So you are happy to see me,” he said. “You had me worried there for a while.”

I slapped him on the shoulder for being an idiot, inhaled his scent, and then released my desperate grip on his neck. Instead, I grabbed his hand, fished out my key, and let us in. We took the stairs two steps at the time and soon we were inside my apartment. The heat felt divine against my cold skin, but all I cared about was Grant.

With stiff fingers, I fiddled with the buttons on his pea coat. “How come you’re here?” When his coat was off, I shrugged out of my own and kicked off my boots. “Shoes off,” I added and he complied.

“I managed to convince Rob to take my shift today in exchange for one of his next week. So, here I am.” Rob was one of the other interns and I was so grateful right now I would have kissed him if he’d been here.

“Mhm.” I fumbled with the button on his pants and clawed at the zipper.

“You seem happy to see me.”

“Fucking ecstatic. Get your clothes off!” I growled. He chuckled, batted away my hands, and shimmied out of his pants. I threw off my own clothes, not caring where they landed, and soon we huddled together under my blanket. He rested his icy feet on my shins and his cold hand on my stomach, making shivers race through my body. I wiggled my arm under his neck and hauled him closer, allowing him to steal every ounce of my body heat if he wanted.

I threw my leg over his thigh and he hummed happily. “I’ve missed you so much, Brad,” he whispered and everything was right in my world.

I was going to have a merry Christmas after all.


Inspirational picture found on Instagram.


Christmasvaganza: #SuperShort


All I Want For Christmas

I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He looked so…relaxed. His shoulders weren’t up by his ears like they usually were. He smiled all the time, flashing his adorable dimple, and whenever he looked at me his eyes sparkled with love, causing my stomach to flutter.

But best of all: he never let go of my hand.

We wandered down the sidewalk without a care in the world, all our troubles left behind. They would be there waiting for us when we got back home, but here— hundreds of miles from disapproving families—we could ignore them.

I squeezed his hand and he shot me a blinding smile, brighter than the sun that beat down on our heads. “I’m so happy I talked you into this trip,” I said and nudged his side.

“Me too.” He stopped and pulled me closer. When I was within reach, he leaned in and ghosted his lips against mine. Right there. In the middle of the street where anyone could see.

Electricity buzzed through my body and I had to lock my knees so I wouldn’t melt into a puddle. When he pulled back, I panted like we’d made out for hours instead of just brushed our mouths together. My heart hammered in my chest and my wide grin almost split my face in two.

He giggled and we resumed walking. We were on our way to the beach to find a restaurant. Neither of us mentioning that today was the last day of our trip, that we had to go back north tomorrow. Back to the stress that was bound to kick into high gear this last week before Christmas, with presents to buy, food to cook, and still hope we’d have enough time to get into the holiday spirit, even though we would spend it apart. Neither of us had said anything about how hard it would be to go back to hiding our relationship after a long weekend of glorious freedom.

I forced the morose thoughts from my mind, determined to enjoy this evening with him.

So, I did. We talked and laughed and ate our dinner, even though I couldn’t remember what I’d put in my mouth later. I focused on touching him every chance I got. Kicked off my sandal and let my naked foot caress his sun-warm calf. Took his hand that rested on the table and laced our fingers together, brushing my thumb over his soft skin. Licked my lips until he couldn’t resist leaning over and kiss me, and the look in his eyes told me he knew exactly what I was up to, but he indulged me anyway.

When the dinner was eaten, the dessert devoured, and we were on our second bottle of wine, he sighed. It was a deep, troubled sound and it settled uneasily between us. He looked away, eyes trained far in the distance at the sun disappearing into the ocean, and his face turned wistful.

“I wish…” he mumbled.

I lifted our joined hands and placed a tender kiss on each knuckle. “What do you wish, love?”

“I wish we could live like this all the time.”

His words pierced my heart. So did I. We’d been together for over three years and I could easily imagine forever with him. But his Catholic parents didn’t know about him and if they found out they wouldn’t approve. He would probably lose them. And his job in the conservative private school where he worked, too. They had a clause about immoral behavior written into the employment contract, and homosexuality was one of the things deemed unacceptable. If people found out about us, his entire life would be turned upside down. Destroyed.

I could never ask that of him. Sometimes, when loneliness and frustration got to me, I wondered if I’d be better off with someone else. Someone who was out. But just the thought of not ever seeing him again made me want to throw up. Picturing my life without him was impossible.

So, I put on a brave face and hoped my smile at least looked happy. “It’ll all work out in the end,” I said—like I always did—and emphasized my words with a squeeze of his hand. I had no idea how, but it would have to. Somehow.

He nodded, but the relief he usually displayed after an exchange like that never came. Instead, his eyelids fluttered closed. He opened and shut his mouth several times as if he wanted to say something but lacked the courage. His grip on my hand tightened and after several minutes of silence, he whispered, “I we could be open, would you want to live with me then? Like a…real couple?”

“Oh, Joe.” I reached for him, grabbed his chin and turned his face toward me. I waited patiently until he opened his eyes and looked at me. “Don’t you know I’d marry you in a heartbeat if you let me?”

Tears welled up in his beautiful hazel eyes. “You would?” he asked with a trembling lower lip.

I swept my thumb over it. Caught a tear that broke free and rolled down his cheek. “I would.”

“I…” His eyes searched my face and he blinked away the tears. “I think I knew that.” He scooted his chair closer to mine and rested his head on my shoulder. I slid my arm around him and hugged him close, rubbing my beard against his temple.

“I have enough savings to last me for maybe a year,” he continued and laid his hand on my leg, absently playing with the hair that dusted my thigh. “Or longer, if you’re serious. If we moved in together it would cut the expenses considerably.”

My heart jumped up my throat. “What are you saying?” I squeaked.

“I could probably get a new job before the money runs out anyway,” he said as if he hadn’t heard me.


“I’d need to quit my job immediately. Everything would be worse if I didn’t tell them and they found out.” His warm hand caressed my thigh and he behaved like he wasn’t turning my entire existence upside down.

Was he saying what I thought he was saying? “Joseph!”

He tilted his head back and looked up at me. “Yes?”

“What…what are you talking about?”

“I’m saying I’m moving in with you. Your place is nicer than mine. But I’m not marrying you until you ask properly.”

My head spun, and my breathing stuttered. “But…your family?”

He twisted on his chair until he faced me and cupped my cheeks with tender fingers, threading them through my beard. “After these last few days…I can’t go back to the way it was before. I’m not saying it will be easy. But I’m saying I’m choosing you.”

“You mean it?” I leaned my forehead against his, and something blossomed in my chest. Filled me with a blinding light of happiness.

“I do.”

I kissed him. Slid my hand around his neck and pressed my mouth hard against his. Again and again, I kissed him as if my life depended on it until my lips ached. Finally, I pulled away and looked into his eyes. His pupils were blown and his gaze unfocused and he’d never been more beautiful. “Are you really, really sure?”

He nodded and pressed his lips to mine. “I’m really—” kiss, “really—” kiss, “really sure.” Another kiss. “Now take me back to the hotel and make love to me.”

I did.


Inspirational image found on Instagram

Christmasvaganza: #SuperShort


The Sound of His Heart

The most beautiful sound in the world is the thumps of his beating heart. Comforting. Steady. Especially since I, for a short terrible while, thought I would never hear it again.

Two years ago, the second week of December, the first snow fell. At first, it was big, beautiful flakes floating down from the sky, melting immediately when they hit the ground, but after a while, it morphed into a blizzard. Turned treacherous.

On his way from work, he crept along at ten miles per hour so he wouldn’t slide off the road, careful as ever. Never taking unnecessary risks. Unfortunately, that didn’t help as another car came hurtling toward him. Lost control. Crashed into him.

I will never forget the look on my boss’s face when he interrupted the meeting I was in. There’s a call for you, Seth. You…you need to take it. Now.

I will never forget the look on my boss’s face…but for the life of me, I can’t remember more than fragments from the following conversation.

Car crash. Critical. Hurry.

He was alive when I got to the emergency room and they agreed to let me see him for a little while. His face was bruised. He had a tube down his throat. The heart-monitor beeped.

Until it didn’t.

He crashed fast. The sound grew irregular and before I knew what happened, it turned into a long, continuous beep.

People came running. They said things, but it was as if they were talking in slow motion and I couldn’t make out the words. I stared at his unmoving chest and I wanted to scream. Rise, dammit. Breathe.

Someone ushered me out of the room and I stood outside with my palm pressed to the window and my terrified heart in my throat. I wouldn’t want it to keep beating if his didn’t.

“Please, please, please,” I whispered. My vision grew blurry and I had to force my feet to keep still and not run into his room and climb on top of him and hug him and shake him and beg him to come back to me and shower his poor battered face with kisses.

And then. A miracle.



His brave heart, his steady, wonderful heart decided not to give up on life. On us.

Two years later, he’s all healed up except for a slight limp when he grows tired and a scar at the corner of his left eye that he tries to hide behind a curtain of hair, but that I kiss every chance I get.

“Wear it with pride,” I always say and kiss it. Kiss him. Then, I rest my ear on his chest and listen for his heartbeat. Making sure it’s still there. So far it hasn’t let me down.

That’s where I lay one cold fall evening a month ago when he combed his fingers through my hair and asked in a breathless voice, “How about we get married, Seth?”

I think it was my heart that stopped beating then, if only for a nanosecond. Then it jumped with joy as I sat and stared into his warm brown eyes that no one except me ever seemed to notice. “You mean it?” I asked.

“Of course, silly.” And just like that, we were engaged.

“But I don’t want a ring,” I said.

“Why not?”

“I want something even more beautiful. Something permanent.”

He cried when I told him my wish. Cried and kissed me and whispered a million I love you’s in my ear.

This morning, the second week of December, we exchange I do’s. This morning I become Mr. Seth Jones-McIntyre, proud husband of Abe McIntyre. The entire time in front of the justice of the peace, my thumb sweeps over the inside of his sensitive wrist with the new tattoo. After he says his vows, he kisses my matching one, and I can’t hold back my tears.

His soft lips against his own heartbeat immortalized on my body is the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.

And my heartbeat etched on his skin makes my love swell and grow so big I can’t contain it within me.

“You may now kiss,” says the JP.

And we do. I don’t plan to ever stop.


Inspirational image found on Instagram.

Christmasvaganza: #SuperShort


During the Christmasvaganza, the Friday SuperShorts will be winter- or holiday themed. I hope you enjoy 🙂

The Clandestine Tree

I was stretched out on my tippy-toes, trying to make myself taller so I could reach to put the star on top of the tree. Damn my parents! Couldn’t they have made me a few inches taller, so I wouldn’t need to live my life this…vertically challenged?

“Pete? Where are you?” I almost fell on my face when my boyfriend’s voice interrupted what I was doing. Snatching back my hand as if I’d burned it, I hid the top star behind my back and looked frantically around the room. Would I have time to throw a blanket over the tree before he walked in on me? I groaned at my own stupidity. How exactly would I explain a big Christmas tree-shaped blanket to him? As a teepee blanket fort only I was allowed to use? Yeah, that would work. Not.

I ran out of time for coming up with another harebrained idea when he stumbled into the living room, barely awake, rubbing his hand over his face. His chocolate brown hair stuck out in every direction and he looked adorably sleepy.

“Honey, what are you doing awake so earl—” His eyes widened as he took in the giant Christmas tree I’d smuggled in that morning.

“I, um…” I didn’t know what to say, so I stared down at my feet and fidgeted. Technically, we had agreed to hold off a little with the tree. Or he’d wanted to hold off—saying that the weekend after Thanksgiving was too early—and I’d agreed. Reluctantly, since I would have put it up at the beginning of September if he’d let me.

“Oh, babe,” he sighed.

“’M sorry,” I muttered.

“Couldn’t wait?”

I shook my head, still refusing to look at him. He took a few quick steps across the floor, and then he gripped my chin, nudging my face up. He still had sleep creases on his face, but his gray eyes shone with amusement.

“You silly man.” He leaned down and stole a kiss.

“Ewwww, morning breath.” I giggled and twisted my face away from him.

“Sorry,” he said, not looking sorry at all. “How did you even get that thing in here by yourself? It’s huge!”

I shrugged. I was resourceful when I had to be. Especially when it came to Christmas cheer.

“So what are you up to? What are you hiding behind your back?”

I showed him the star I hadn’t been able to resist when I saw it at the store yesterday. It was the reason I had been unable to wait any longer to start decorating. It wasn’t really one star; it was a starburst with many silvery stars and it was so beautiful I’d had to swipe away a tear in the Christmas aisle.

Now I understand,” he said and smiled.

“Isn’t it gorgeous?”

“It is.” He cupped my neck with a large hand and pulled me in for another kiss. I didn’t object; I even let his tongue into my mouth without wrinkling my nose. “You need help to put it on?” he asked when he pulled away.

“Please?” I fluttered my eyelashes at him and he chuckled.

“Yeah yeah. Turn around.”

I did, and he bent his knees, put his arms around my hips, and lifted me high up in the air with a grunt. Laughter bubbled out of me, but I hurried to put the starburst on the top branch. It looked magnificent on the full tree and my stomach fluttered with happiness as if it was full of cheerful, dancing Christmas elves.

When he put me down again, I leaned back against his bare, muscled chest with a happy sigh. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

“Mhm, perfect,” he replied. But he wasn’t looking at the tree.

He was looking at me.


Inspirational image found on Instagram.



I Declare Paint War

“Bye-bye, Clara! Come back soon!” I called after my niece as my sister Jenny buckled her into the car.

“Bye, Uncle Joe.” Clara leaned out and waved at me. Her little heart-shaped face was set in a happy grin and streaked in all colors of the rainbow after our afternoon finger painting session. She also had a bright pink strand in her blond hair. Lucky for me, I’d bought water soluble colors.

I exchanged goodbyes with my sister and remained on the porch—waving after the car until it was out of sight—before returning inside to take care of the cleanup. My T-shirt had handprints all over it made by a mischievous four-year-old and I grabbed the neck and pulled it off. My pants followed, and I was in the middle of scrubbing red spots off the floor in my boxer briefs when the door opened and my fiancé got home from work.

“Honey, I’m hooooome.” A giggle followed the greeting. Ben loved ridiculing old gender stereotypes and couldn’t help laughing at himself when he did. He’d be tickled when he found me on all fours in the kitchen.

“In here,” I hollered and as predicted he burst out laughing when he saw me and the state of our kitchen.

“Oh Em Gee, Joe. Did you forget to give Miss Clara paper to use for her art?”

With a final scrub, the floor was restored to its original state and I jumped to my feet. “No. But I had to go to the bathroom. I swear I was only gone for two minutes.”

“Mhm. She’s quick,” he said and his eyes twinkled with mirth.

“That she is.” I threw the dishrag in the sink. “Hey, where’s my kiss?” I dried off my hands on a paper towel as I pursed my lips.

“Joooeee,” he whined. “You’re all covered in paint.”

“I’ll keep my hands on the back.” I made a show of holding them up first and then clasping them behind my back. My fingers brushed against an open container of finger paint on the table.

“You have a blue handprint on your cheek. Looks like you’ve been slapped by a smurf.”

I chuckled. “Don’t rub against it and you’ll be fine.”

“You promise?”

“Mhm,” I said and nodded, doing my best to keep a straight face.

“All right,” he sighed and took a small step forward. He leaned his upper body toward me, but tried keeping his distance. He pursed his lips and closed his eyes and I took what he offered. His lips were soft and warm against mine and we both hummed in happiness.

I let myself enjoy it for a second before I dipped my fingers in the paint, lifted my hand quickly, and drew a line over his cheek. He squeaked and jumped back, slapping his palm to the paint, smearing the yellow color, and I collapsed into fits of laughter.

“You promised,” he said as he tried to scrub away the paint but only succeeding in spreading it out more.

“You forgot to check if I had crossed my fingers.” I waggled my eyebrows at him.

“You…you…” Quick as a weasel, he darted around me and grabbed another container. Before I had time to react, I had a wide green line from my nipple all the way to my belly button.

My eyes flitted between my painted chest and his gloating face. “You’re even quicker than Clara,” I said, snatched a paint container, dipped my finger in it and poked his nose, making it bright blue.

He narrowed his eyes. “Are you declaring war, sir?” he asked with his hands on his hips and a defiant look on his face.

“I do believe I am, Mr. Collins,” I replied and swiped my blue finger over his eyebrow.

He held up both his hands and said, “Stop!”

I faltered in my planned attack on his other eyebrow and pulled back. He held up his right index finger and when he was sure I was waiting, he quickly stripped out of his clothes and threw them out of the kitchen. Then he armed himself with two paint containers: the yellow and the green.

In response, I snagged the red to accompany the blue I was already holding.

“Ready, sir?” he asked.

“Ready, Mr. Collins.” I widened my stance and rolled my shoulders.

“Oorah,” he yelled, jumped forward, and the battle was on.

Skärmavbild 2017-11-17 kl. 22.17.13

Inspirational picture found on Instagram. 






Inspirational image found on Instagram.

Morning Dance

We were running late. For some unknown reason, neither of our alarms had gone off that morning and I woke up forty-five minutes before work started. My loud cursing awoke Elijah, who elbowed his way past me into the tub. I growled in his direction and had to splash off in the sink since there was no way I would have time for a shower after he finished.

I pulled on my pants with one hand and brushed my teeth with the other. A quick glance in the mirror told me I was presentable enough for work—aside from the sour I overslept-expression on my face that I needed to work on.

While Elijah got dressed and fussed with his hair, I made coffee, fixed a couple sad sandwiches for lunch—PBJ, what are we? Five?—and rushed around in a frenzy trying to find my shoes that seemed to have gone missing since last night. I found them halfway under the couch where I’d kicked them off yesterday after curling up next to Elijah, doing my damnedest not to poop my pants while we watched Stranger Things on Netflix.

As I’d finished pouring coffee for the both of us in travel mugs, Elijah stepped out of the bedroom, looking rosy-cheeked and perky as if he’d had all the time in the world to get ready this morning. Ugh, that man didn’t know the meaning of the word “hurry.” Yet he always managed to be on time somehow, while looking spotless and freaking adorable. If he hadn’t been the love of my life, I would have been annoyed.

“Let’s go.” I hustled us both out the door and kept my pace slightly below jogging as we made our way to work. Elijah walked a few steps behind me, whistling happily, and I swore to God if there’d been roses along the way, he would have stopped and smelled them.

When we came to the fork in the path where we would part ways, I waited for him and handed over the tote bag with his coffee and sandwich. I gave him a little wave, and turned to go as I threw a quick, “See you after work,” over my shoulder.

“Gabe!” he called after me.

I whirled around and hiked up an eyebrow. “What?”

Stepping closer, he coaxed the tote out of my hand and put both of them down on the ground. Then he held out his hand, smiled, and said, “Dance with me.”

“Here? Now?” I squeaked. “I’ll be late for work.”

He didn’t say anything, just waited for me to make up my mind. I really should go. I hated being late, my boss hated when I was late, and the universe was, in general, a better place when everyone was on time.

But I’d never been able to say no to his beautiful brown eyes, and against better judgment, I lay my hand in his, and let myself be pulled close to his body. I threw my arm around his neck as he started humming a melody I didn’t recognize—probably because he was so tone-deaf he couldn’t sing in tune even if his life depended on it—and we waited a heartbeat before taking our first dance steps.

People stared at us where we danced in the middle of a sidewalk, but gave us space to do our thing. I followed his lead as he shuffled us around the imaginary dance floor. My poor stressed heart slowed down, and the frown I’d worn since I woke up disappeared. Soon we were grinning at each other like loons.

After a couple rounds, he tightened his grip on my waist, waggled his eyebrows, and dipped me backward, old Hollywood-style. He held me in place for several seconds, eliciting a happy laugh from me, and his eyes brightened at the sound.

When he straightened me up again, I hugged him. Hard.

Elijah squeezed me before letting me go. He picked up our totes and handed me mine with smiling eyes that melted my heart so badly I feared it would pour out of my body. He gave me a warm kiss on my cheek and whispered, “Have a great day at work, honey.” Then he waved and walked away.

I stayed for another second or two, watching his retreating back before taking the path leading to my workplace. I smiled broadly at everyone while I tried to whistle the tune we’d just danced to.

Today was going to be a fantastic day.


Don’t eat the bunnies

“Jonah, where are you?” I called as I approached the trunk of a fallen tree—his favorite spot in the forest behind our house. There was no sign of him. I glanced at my watch and squished my eyebrows together. Tilting my head back, I let out a yell. “We’re gonna be late.”

The sound of a breaking branch reached me, followed by rustling vegetation and running paws. A second later, a big wolf appeared in the clearing, leaped up on the trunk, and climbed to the top. It didn’t stop until it was directly above me. The sun illuminated its thick fur, making it glitter and shine in the light. It was breathtaking.

I looked up as it lowered its head, stretched out its tongue, and licked me, drenching my face with saliva.

“Yuck,” I laughed and scrunched up my nose. “Cut it out.” I reached up and scratched behind its ear. “You know I prefer real kisses.”

The wolf jumped down and landed gracefully next to me. He swept his tongue over my hand before he started shifting in front of my eyes. His form elongated, stretched, and grew, and soon he’d shed his wolf persona and stood before me in his human form. My darling Jonah. Naked as the day he was born and more magnificent than anyone I’d ever met.

I wiped my face clean of his slobber and he laughed, a joyous sound that bounced between the birches. He flung his strong arms around my waist, lifted me as if I weighed little more than a feather, and spun me around. His exhilaration rubbed off on me and I laughed with him. I wound my arms around his shoulders and buried my nose in the crook of his neck. Taking a deep breath, I shuddered. I adored his scent after a shift. He smelled of dew drops. Of pale green tender leaves and the earth itself.

“Did you have a good run?” I mumbled into his skin.

“I did.” He started walking back home with me still in his arms, and I hooked my legs around his hips.

“You didn’t eat the bunnies, I hope.”

Jonah chuckled. “No, my love, I didn’t eat the bunnies. You told me not to.”

I rewarded him by kissing his neck. By running my fingers down his spine, and rubbing my groin against his abs. He growled at me as if he hadn’t left his wolf behind completely. “Stop that if you don’t want to be late.”

“Being on time is overrated,” I said and crushed my mouth against his.

When we showed up on my mom’s doorstep two hours later, she didn’t agree.

Inspirational picture found on Instagram. 

Skärmavbild 2017-10-30 kl. 00.27.09

That was my first foray into the paranormal. Did you like it? 😁