Chapter 20
~ Sammie ~
Somehow, Braden’s kisses are sweeter and more tender now that we’ve had our talk. Or maybe it’s because I got him off earlier, because he’s taking his time, tasting and savoring the feel of our lips joined, breaths mingled, and cheeks nuzzling, my soft skin against his harsh beard stubble.
It’s different, but just as enticing, and even though we start out slowly exploring, the tide of heat burning underneath the surface surges and grows.
I can’t imagine sleeping with him while playing father and daughter. Especially in this house under the watchful eyes of Jolene and the analytical gaze of Susanna—not to mention suspicious Lindsay, who’s looking to discredit me to Poppy so one of her kids can be Santa’s Elfprentice.
Counting to five, or maybe ten, I finally tense up my muscles enough to push back. “We can’t.”
“I know.” Braden pants into my mouth. “Although I doubt I’d last very long. Guess I’ll race you to the cold shower, but the family might wonder why anyone’s showering so late in the night.”
“Ears everywhere. That’s how families are.”
“Mouths too.” He chuckles. “Everyone has to put in their opinion.”
“Oh, I thought you meant every mouth has to be fed.”
“That too.” He sighs and draws back from me. “Guess we should be hitting the sack—daughter.”
“Except you haven’t done anything Christmassy.” I twirl my finger and point at him accusingly. “You didn’t go with us to cut the tree. You failed to light the Yule log. You skipped church and the sleigh rides, and I didn’t hear your voice sing any of the carols. You didn’t even wear a costume to the tree trimming party.”
“I did eat the Christmas Eve dinner and had a slice of gingerbread cake.” He huffs in his defense.
“Hardly qualifies. If you don’t want me to call you a grinch, I think we should go outside and have our own private Christmas tradition.”
He walks to the window and wipes off the frost. “Doing what? It’s snowing out there.”
“It does look like a whiteout outside,” I comment. “But hey, we can make a snowman.”
“He’ll be buried in snow by the morning.”
“We have to do something. How about we sneak downstairs and see what’s in our stockings?”
“They’re in Poppy’s room, and he’s probably asleep.”
“Okay, you think of something.” I plop myself down on the lower bunk but stay on the side away from him.
He waggles his eyebrows up and down. “We can play Christmas strip poker.”
“I already gave you a Christmas Eve lap dance.”
He gives me a thumbs-up. “That’s a tradition I heartily endorse.”
“I want to do something outside, and it has to be different.”
He takes me in his arms and kisses me. “You’ll come up with something. Meanwhile, I’ll give you a kiss for every mistletoe I missed growing up.”
“Then we might as well sew our lips together, because I never had any mistletoe either.”
After several breathless kisses, we decide on a simple walk through the woods. Yes, it’s midnight, and it’s cold. But it’s our first Christmas together.
The large house is quiet as we wind our way down the stairs. Everyone must have already gone to bed, all snuggly and warm. The scent of cider and cinnamon lingers in the kitchen, and a half-finished gingerbread house sits on the kitchen table.
The two huskies, Wolf and Blitz, greet us with expectant pants. And then, I get an idea.
“It’s the night before Christmas, and Santa’s sleigh is supposed to be on its way.” I open the prop closet Jolene keeps next to the pantry. “Why don’t we pretend Wolf and Blitz are reindeer and take them on a midnight walk in the woods?”
