I do what I’ve been eager to repeat since the first taste. My lips crush hers.
Sabrina melts immediately, wrapping her arms around my neck as her hips wiggle over my thighs. My one hand cradles her neck and the other supports her spine when I tilt her backward. Our tongues tangle as my heart gallops out of my chest. I lose myself in our kiss.
She squeezes my shoulder just as I register the hoots of our enthusiastic audience. When we separate, dazed lust thickens the air between us.
“Are you OK?” I graze the tender scar behind her ear.
“Yes,” she answers with a shudder.
“How’s your back?”
“My back is great. I’m not fragile,” Sabrina rasps, sounding as dazed and breathless as I feel. Her cheeks are tinged red. When my hand unclamps her hair and brushes against her neck, her temperature is feverish.
She looks away before grabbing a bottle of sparkling water. I quell my disappointment that she’s done with the show once everyone’s attention is elsewhere.
“You’re precious to me,” I blurt in all sincerity.
It isn’t the first unplanned declaration I’ve made tonight. For everyone’s sake, I hope it’s the last.
Chapter 4
Sabrina
I look at my extensive checklist in preparation for the arrival of our Christmas guests. Dex is already at the arena for pregame skating, so I’m the one who will welcome his parents and sister to the “urban farmhouse.”
The team completed a couple of away games, which means Dex and I have barely seen each other since that mind-blowing kiss at the holiday party.
When he came home late last night, I stayed in my room, pretending to be asleep. Why? Because remembering my husband’s skilled and delicious mouth is slowly annihilating my brain cells.
One more kiss and I’ll dissolve into a puddle of frayed nerves. Who will prepare the house and welcome the guests then?
Thus, back to the checklist.
Number one: prepare varied refreshments and hot appetizers for when the Whitby family arrives. Check.
Next, prepare the guest bedrooms and bathrooms since this is the first Christmas we’ve ever hosted, and I really want to impress my mother-in-law. Double check.
Also, arrange Christmas gifts under the tree and stock the fridge with everyone’s holiday favorites like his sister’s favorite prosecco. The benefit of growing up with Dexter is I know his dad is a dedicated meat-atarian and his mother adores vanilla scented candles.
So many checks!
Last on my checklist is: sleep in my husband’s bedroom so we can sell the legitimacy of this marriage of convenience.
Cue the buzzer, because the answer is a resounding negative check.
That changes in a few hours. We agreed that the fewer people who know of our ruse, the better. Which is why I’ll be sleeping in my husband’s bed for the next couple of nights. Being a gentleman, Dex offered to sleep on the floor for the duration of his family’s visit.
But what if he’s injured while sleeping on such a hard surface? What if he can’t sleep at all? What if someone enters unannounced?
Sleeping separately presents more risks than benefits.
It’s an unnecessary precaution. After all, we have two things that will keep the temporary sleep arrangement from getting awkward: a clear understanding of boundaries and a king-sized bed with enough pillows to form a wall between us.
The doorbell rings, launching me out of my reverie. The guests have arrived.
Although Charles and Maxine Whitby are now happily retired in Florida, they raised Dexter and his sister in the same Buffalo suburb I grew up in.
I open the door to greet people I’ve known all my life. Instead of easy familiarity, however, everything feels new and loaded and intense. I’m no longer the child who played video games in their basement or street hockey outside their house. I’m no longer the kid they shuttled around during tournaments because Dex and I were a package deal when it came to travel carpooling.
