I snort, then reach into my sweats and pull out a pocket knife. I cut the zip ties and help him up.
He pulls up his boxer briefs and stares at me incredulously. “You're fucking insane, you know that?”
“Maybe.” I bat my lashes at him. “But you love me anyway.”
He looks down at the discarded ice pop, its stark green color against the white tiles. “Why’d you go with green? I thought you hated that flavor.”
I grin, reaching over to tuck a stray lock of hair behind his ear. “Picked it so I could tell if I was hurting you. Red was too closeto blood and purple . . . well, that could've been frostbite or some shit.”
He snorts, shaking his head. “So instead, you made it look like I've got a grass stain on my hole.”
“Exactly.” I lean in, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I'm considerate like that.”
He laughs, the sound echoing off the high ceilings. “You're something, all right.”
We clean up by rinsing off in the pool's shower, then make our way back to my room. As we curl up under the covers, Killian's head resting on my chest, I can't help feeling like this is the best Christmas ever.
Chapter 5
Killian
My feet drag as I follow Jackson down the grand staircase, my muscles sore. The smell of fresh coffee and cinnamon rolls wafts up from below, mixing with the pine scent of the massive fourteen-foot Christmas tree in the living room.
“Stop walking like you got hit by a truck,” Jackson whispers, pinching my ass. “Unless you want everyone to know exactly what we did last night.”
“Pretty sure the whole neighborhood knows what we did last night, fucktard.”
The morning sun streams into the living room windows, casting rainbow patterns through crystal ornaments onto piles of expertly wrapped presents. The fire crackles in the marblefireplace; stockings are hung with precision along the mantle. Both our families are already gathered, lounging on plush sofas and armchairs.
Mom looks up as we enter. “There's my sleepyhead. I was wondering when you'd join us.”
“Why didn't you wake me? I would've helped bring in the presents.”
“Oh, your sisters took care of everything.” She waves dismissively. “Emily and Lilly were up at dawn.”
Jackson tugs me toward a sideboard laden with breakfast pastries. “Speaking of presents…” His grin turns wicked. “Wait till you see what I got you.”
“If it's a sex toy, I'm shoving it down your throat.”
“Kinky.”
I grab a blueberry muffin and pour some orange juice while Jackson snags a water bottle. The bastard's practically vibrating with barely contained mischief.
Mr. Reed's voice carries across the room. “Look who finally decided to grace us with their presence.”
Emily and Lilly dissolve into giggles. I glance between them, confused by the looks being exchanged.
Before I can ask what's happening, Mrs. Reed sweeps into the room carrying a shopping bag. She pulls something out and starts passing it around—first to my mom, then my sisters, then Mr. Reed.
What the actual fuck?
My confusion turns to horror as everyone pulls out bright green ice pops. The same kind Jackson used last night during our Die Hard “roleplay.”
“Oh god.” I sink into the nearest chair, face burning.
“While this might be the biggest house I've ever been in,” Mom says, waving her ice pop like a conductor's baton, “apparently, it’s not quite large enough to drown out certain . . . activities.”
“Please stop talking.”
