Her hair flits around her face with a full-body laugh. “Iknewit!”
Slapping a hand on my thigh, I start to stand. “You get cozy—maybe try to lure that cat into its box before she finds a way to destroy my house—and I’ll go grab ’em.”
Already heading toward the cat, which Iknowshe’s going to scoop up barehanded again, she beams at me. “Bring back the bourbon, too, Charles.”
Chapter twelve
Eira
December 24
“Your cat howled all night,” Lucas grumbles into the pillow next to me.
“She was probably lonely downstairs. I told you we should’ve brought her in here.”
Rolling to his side, he sweeps a large hand over my head and smiles. “I don’t love the thought of her looking at me when I’m naked.”
“Don’t tell me a tiny kitten makes you self-conscious,” I say under the sweet dusting of his kisses down my neck.
“Mmm no,” he murmurs into my hair. “More fear that she’ll remove my dick from my body the first chance she gets. Anyway, enough about your devil cat—”
“No wonder she hisses at you so much. I would, too, if you constantly referred to me as evil.”
“Oh, baby, you’re evil, all right.” He smirks, and I tease him with my scariest hiss. Lucas responds by giving a small nip to my earlobe. “Only a true siren could lure me away from work and into the shower like you did yesterday.”
My back arches, hips rolling into him. “In that case, let me beguile you again.”
“No time, temptress.” The covers pull back, and suddenly he’s practically yanking me from the bed with his hand linked in mine. “Merry Christmas Eve, Doodlebug. We have a lot to do in order to have your no-pants holiday tomorrow.”
Being in bed with him all day would easily put this Christmas in my top three. Just after that Christmas when Dad’s office Christmas party Santa—who smelled like cigarettes and cheddar cheese—gave me a hundred dollar bill, but probably before the year Holly and I pub-crawled on Christmas Eve.
At this exact moment, I care very little about having a movie-like holiday, but I roll out of bed and drag a hand down my face with a groan. Then pad behind him to the bathroom.
“What exactly do you have on this list?” I ask, reaching for sunscreen and methodically swiping it over my face.
He holds up a finger until he’s done brushing his teeth then licks his lips and smiles at me. “First things first, we need a real tree.”
Knowing my fear of horses, Lucas suggested we take his truck. But not before making a sassy comment about a horseback ride up the mountain being more romantic. Now snuggled up in his truck’s bench seat, I couldn’t disagree more. My palm rubs the length of his thigh, my head rests on his shoulder, and he periodically presses his lips to my hairline. Warm, cozy, andstealing quick kisses every chance we get, I can’t think of a better way to find the perfect tree.
“How about that one?” I point to the left hand side, sitting straighter with excitement.
Lucas slows the truck to a crawl. “Not gonna work, baby. Look at the base—you got two trees tangled up in each other there instead of one.”
“Mmm, sounds romantic.” I walk my fingers up to his chest, slipping under the collar. “Also sounds a lot like us last night.”
“God, I can’t wait to lay you down under the Christmas tree and watch the lights dance on your naked body.”
My core tightens, and I blink up at him, searching his face and hoping I’ll somehow find the words to say written in the small creases around his eyes or the peppered stubble on his jawline.
“Get back to tree hunting, Doodlebug. You’re slacking on the job.”
Doubling down on the intensity of my gaze, I meet his deep blue eyes. “Petition to make my new job staring at you.”
“You’re hired. Although I think you’ll discover how boring I am and decide to quit.”
“I’m an artist—people watching isneverboring.”
The truck careens through a large pothole, and I squeeze my hands around his sculpted bicep for stability. Somehow both hands barely fit, something I spend a moment measuring so I can take it home with me.
