Rock Chick Revolution(34)

Christmas Morning…

I woke, naked, tangled up with Ren in his bed.

I had my face stuffed in the side of Ren’s neck, an arm thrown over his stomach and a leg thrown over his thigh.

He had an arm around me and the instant I woke, it tightened and his deep voice rumbled, “Merry Christmas, baby.”

I closed my eyes hard.

What the hell was I doing?

Just as quickly as my mind asked it, I decided Christmas day was not the time to explore that question.

I opened my eyes, and being a holiday person, a family person, and a person who found every reason possible to party and/or celebrate, I didn’t have it in me to lay down the boundaries during the most joyous day of the year.

Not with Ren close and his voice warm and rumbly on Christmas morning.

Therefore, I lifted my head, looked into his beautiful eyes and replied quietly, “Merry Christmas, Ren.”

His eyes dropped to my mouth as his arm got even tighter and dragged me up his chest.

But once we were face to face, it was me that went in for the Christmas kiss. And it was a kiss that I wasn’t sure Jesus would approve of, but to me, it was heavenly.

When we broke the kiss, Ren lifted a hand to my jaw and said, “Let’s get this part over with, honey.”

Oh shit.

Before I could intervene in order to stop him from starting a joyous day in a non-joyous way, he went on.

“Before I give you your present and you take off to be with your family, promise me right now, and mean it, that you’ll stay away from dealers, growers, manufacturers, suppliers and transporters.”

Oh my God!

He got me a present?

“Ally,” he called and I focused on him.

I took in a breath, holding the Christmas spirit close.

In other words, I replied calmly, “Ren, when I promise to help, I have to do whatever it takes to do the job.”

He studied me. I waited for him to commence the Talk or go straight into the Fight.

Apparently Ren was feeling the Christmas spirit too as he didn’t do either.

Instead, he held me to him as he mumbled, “Not gonna get into this shit on Christmas,” and he twisted toward his nightstand.

He opened the drawer. I held my breath. Then he pulled out a small, jewelry-sized, exquisitely wrapped present, complete with bow.

Jewelry.

I was a Rock Chick. I accepted gifts of all forms.

I also gave them the same way.

But I never thought I’d be a girl who felt like I felt right then when a man was about to give her jewelry. And I didn’t even care what was in that wrapped package.

It was indeed the thought that mattered.

And jewelry from a man, that man being Ren, said a lot about what he thought of me.

I pressed my lips together.

Ren settled on his back and offered me the present.

“Open it, honey.”

I swallowed, looked into his eyes and took it.

As best I could still leaning into him, I pulled off the bow and wrap and unearthed a familiar blue box with a white ribbon.

Oh crap.

My throat got scratchy when I untied the ribbon and flipped open the box.

In it was a silver pendant on a chain.

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 hips 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*ck 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.”