“I’m chopping down a tree next year,” I swear, glaring balefully at the tree as I try to restring the lights now that it actually looks like a tree. That’s a whole adventure in and of itself. No wonder I never decorate. This shit is more exhausting than wrangling cattle and mending fences.
It’s worth it, though. She’s worth it.
“Flint?”
I spin around, thrusting my arms out like that’ll hide the tree as soon as I hear her sleepy voice behind me. My damn heart rolls in my chest when I see her standing just inside the doorway, all rumpled and sweet, wearing nothing but my t-shirt and marks.
She blinks, her gaze slowly roving over the chaos of the living room like she’s trying to process what’s happening here.
“I wanted it to be a surprise,” I murmur, my voice husky, nervous. She might hate this. Shit. What if she hates it? “You said you’ve never really had a real Christmas. I wanted to give you one, so I went and bought everything I needed to decorate for you.”
“You–” She stops, licking her lips. “You’re doing all of this for me?”
I nod, the motion jerky.
“But you have to work in the morning.”
“Doesn’t matter,” I rasp, holding her gaze. “This matters, Sugar Plum. You deserve a little Christmas magic. I want to give it to you.”
Her eyes fill with tears, and then she’s hurtling across the living room toward me. I barely have time to adjust before she hits my chest like a comet, knocking me back a step.
“You’re going to make me cry!” she cries, burying her face in my throat as I wrap my arms around her, pulling her close.
“No tears,” I murmur, my lips against her shoulder. “I just want you happy.”
“I am happy.” She tips her head back, meeting my gaze with tears in her eyes. “I’m so happy it’s fucking terrifying, Flint.”
“Me too,” I admit, brushing my lips across hers. “Me too, Sugar Plum.”
She pulls me into a kiss that ends with me fucking her on the floor beneath the naked tree, between tangled strands of lights and bags of ornaments. Best sex ever.
When we can move again, she helps me decorate, and by “helps me,” I mean, she does most of it with a smile on her face while I stare at her naked ass and try to think of a way to convince her that naked decorating should be our first established tradition.
It’s after two when we finish, and I’m exhausted. But the smile on her face is fucking worth it. So is the way she flings herself into my arms once I place the Sugar Plum Fairy on top of the tree, beaming at me like I just gave her the greatest gift anyone has ever given her.
“This is already the best Christmas ever,” she whispers.
She’s not wrong about that.
SEVEN
SAOIRSE
I wake up and,for a minute, I don’t even know where I am. My girly parts tingle when I realize there’s a big warm body behind me. There’s a heavy arm lying across my ribs, and the smell of flannel, soap, and Flint surrounds me. Oh, and I’m completely naked. My first thought is, holy shit, I died and went to Elf heaven.
I blink and stare out at the dark room, and realize it’s technically Christmas. Oh, wow. I can’t even believe it. How is it already Christmas? My internal clock is totally busted, thanks to Flint and his world-champion ability to make me forget my own name, let alone what day it is.
I pinch my side to make sure I’m actually awake and not trapped in some steamy fantasy involving the hottest cowboy alive. Nope, not a dream. That is definitely a very large, very hard, very real man pressed up against my bare backside. His hand is splayed under my boobs like he’s keeping a personal claim on his favorite Christmas present. Which, I guess, technically, is me.
I stifle a nervous giggle and try to shift ever-so-slightly. The motion makes my butt rub against him and, holy fudge on a gingerbread cookie, the man is hard as a steel pipe.
My body immediately does this traitor thing where I back up into him just a little harder.
And then I do it again. Just to check if I’m not imagining things.
Nope. The man’s wood is real. And it’s all mine.
All my blood whooshes straight to my face, and my girly parts are basically high-fiving each other in glee.
