A growl vibrates in his chest. His attention cuts sharp as sunlight. “Careful, baby.” His cock slides against me, teasing, dipping just inside, wet slick between us both.
“Why?” I feign innocence, sliding my foot along the line of his calf to pull him in. “Think Mama Russo would disapprove?”
His laugh is dark, sinful. “Are you being a brat, Trouble? You know what bad girls get?” His palm cracks against my ass, playful but firm, sending a jolt straight to my core. I grind back into him, shameless, pulling him deeper.
I bite my lip, fire spiking at the promise. “Maybe that’s exactly what I want to get me through today.”
His hand grips my hip, possessive, commanding. “Then show me.” He thrusts, sliding in slow and deep, circling his hips until my breath breaks.
Voices float up from downstairs, children squealing in excitement.
“Atrocious timing,” he groans, sinking his teeth into my collarbone. “Can you be quiet?”
I nod, though we both know better. His hand covers my mouth, and my body shudders at the control—his palm stealing my sounds, his weight stealing my breath. My head swims, a rush of surrender and need so desperate, I can’t think past it.
“I’m going to fuck you now,” he growls against my ear, rough and tender all at once. “Want it hard and fast, baby?”
I nod again, helpless. He drives into me, hips slamming against mine, every thrust making me cry out into his hand. Full. Claimed. Overrun. My orgasm tears through me, muscles clenching around him until he groans, pace breaking.
He empties himself into me with a hiss, forehead pressed to mine, chanting rough, reverent things I can’t catch, only feel: my name, baby, Trouble, mine.
And beneath it all, the laughter and chaos of Christmas morning float up from below, a reminder that any second, the whole house could’ve caught us, yet none of that matters when he’s this deep inside me, when I need him so completely that waiting wasn’t even an option.
Eventually, I peel myself out of Nate’s grip, slipping on my sweater and tugging my hair into something resembling order. My room is across the hall, and if I’m lucky, I can sneak in without anyone noticing.
I crack open the door, check both ways. Quiet.
I’m halfway across when I hear steps.
My stomach drops. Ryan appears at the landing, coffee mug in hand, gym bag slung over his shoulder. His focus flicks straight from me to the open door behind me—Nate sprawled naked across the sheets.
His mouth curves slow and wicked. “Well, well, well. Merry Christmas to me. You two could’ve cracked a window—place reeks of sex. Leo comes sniffing around, he’s gonna lose his mind.”
Shame burns my throat. Not for being with Nate, but for wanting him so desperately that I couldn’t wait until we were alone. I manage a glare. “Go get a hobby, Ryan.”
He takes a leisurely sip of coffee, smirk deepening. “Got one. It’s called enjoying the afterglow radiating off my little sister. Better wash that flush off your cheeks before Leo comes up for his mitts and bag and sees you.”
“Ryan—” I hiss.
From the bed, Nate’s voice cuts in, calmand amused, “Move along, man.”
Ryan barks a laugh. “No can do. This is the best show I’ve had all week.” He steps past me toward the gym. “Don’t forget to hydrate, kids. Gotta replenish those fluids.”
I shove past him toward my door, mortification burning hot enough to ignite. His chuckle follows me into my room.
I slam my door shut, back pressed against the wood, temperature climbing all the way up my neck. God. Could I die from mortification?
A low knock comes almost immediately. “Trouble.”
I crack it open enough to see Nate leaning in the doorway, still bare-chested, still smug as sin.
“Told you,” he drawls. “They know.”
My glare is weak at best. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
His mouth tilts slow, wolfish. “Damn right I am. Watching you blush because they caught you in my bed? Hottest thing I’ve seen all week.”
I groan, covering my face. “I hate you.”
