One Hot Winter Break (Yardley College Chronicles Book 2) by Sharon Page Page A

two words come out of my mouth before I can stop them.
    I expect anger, a refusal to talk, but he says, bitterly, “It was the one fucking holiday where my parents were both at home. She was promising us a real Christmas for once. I was nine and effing stupid. I was so hopeful. By midnight on Christmas Eve, she was dead.”
    He turns away from me and my over-decorated tree, my gifts. My heart sinks to my toes. I should have spoken to him. I realize he’s never surprised me with anything—he’s always asked or at least introduced me to an idea before carrying it out. Without giving him warning, I’ve thrown him into the worst memories possible.
    “I’m so—so sorry,” I mumble. I know no amount of apologizing will make up for the mistake I made. I assumed, instead of talking to him.
    I know the hell I went through after the spanking. He’s going through it now. His hand scrubs over his mouth and jaw. His head is bowed.
    I rush go the phone, dial the front desk. “I’ll call Piers and get rid of the tree—” I break off, the receiver in my hand. “God, this was a stupid gesture. I can’t erase the pain now, and I am sorry. Sorry I did this without thinking. I should know better—”
    The phone lifts from my hand. Coolly, Jonathon cancels my request and sets the receiver down.
    “This isn’t your fault. I understand what you were trying to do for me,” he says softly. “You didn’t know about my mother. I never told you. This is…very sweet of you.”
    “You aren’t angry? You want a submissive, a woman who does as she’s told. I fucked up because I didn’t do that.”
    “You can learn,” he says softly.
    God, it is so tempting to be totally submissive, to leave all the hard decisions to him, never make a mistake again. But I shake my head. “I don’t think I can. My problem isn’t just with pain. I make mistakes over and over, Jonathon. That’s who I am. I’m not submissive—or maybe I am, and that’s a trigger for me. I’m not a dominant. I’m just me. Screwed up me.”
    He doesn’t say anything so I can’t tell how he feels about what I’ve told him. Then he holds out my gift, and rips off the paper to reveal the slim silver box. He opens it. Nestled in white tissue paper is a black silk blindfold that’s intended for sleeping. It was my hint I had a surprise waiting, plus it was practical, could be used for sex, and was something I could afford. “Mia, you didn’t have to get me anything.”
    Not this again. “I wanted to. And I should take all this stuff down. Why don’t you go for a swim and everything will be gone when you—”
    “Leave it. You want Christmas and I don’t want to spoil it for you. I’m touched you got me a gift.”
    “You got me those beautiful dresses. Shoes that cost almost as much as my first term at Yardley. You gave me this amazing winter break. You’ve given me more than enough gifts.”
    “I don’t think so.” He walks over to my tree, fingers one of my large clumps of tinsel. His brows lift questioningly.
    “It’s what I remember from being a kid,” I admit. Hoping that doesn’t hurt him.
    “A good memory?”
    “Yes. Yes, it was.”
    “I’m glad you had good memories,” he says.
    That makes my heart clench. “Did you have any?”
    “Not from being a kid. But you’re giving me good memories now.” He steps back and looks to the top of the tree. I asked for a basic star—the one I had as a kid was aluminum foil crumpled around cardboard. This one is simple, beautiful, and plated with silver.
    “You decorated the tree while I was out?”
    “The staff put the lights on it and helped with ornaments. Piers went a little over the top. For example, I asked for a tree and he said he could get one, but I didn’t expect this.”
    “I gave him instructions to provide you with anything you asked for. No limits.”
    What he said sinks in. “No limits ? Jonathon, that was way too generous. And you aren’t covering the cost of my Christmas