And now, as his lips trailed down the side of my neck and my legs instinctively curled up toward his body, I realized I wasn’t just humming. I was glowing. Dripping in the aftermath of love, of truth, of everything we’d both been too scared to say. He had me, and I wasn’t running anymore.
I stirred, eyes still closed, and stretched slightly. The sheets shifted over me as his scent filled my senses. His cologne mixed with soap.
“Good mornin’,” he murmured low against my ear. “Open your eyes for me, baby.”
When I finally opened my eyes, I adjusted slowly. Woods leaned over me, shirtless in dark red plaid pajama pants that sat low on his hips. So damn fine. And around me were gifts wrapped in rich velvet paper. Deep black bows. Shiny gold and silver boxes. Some tucked near the pillows. Others stacked around the foot of the bed like I’d woken up in the middle of some luxury holiday ad.
I sat up slowly, gripping the sheet to my chest. “What the… what is all this?”
He smirked and kissed me on my lips. “Merry Christmas, gorgeous.”
I blinked, still halfway in a daze. “You did all this while I was asleep?”
“I actually paid for a twenty-four-hour gift wrappin’ service,” he admitted, and we both laughed.
Truthfully? My chest swelled. I looked around, overwhelmed by how perfect everything felt. And it wasn’t justthe gifts. It was the way he was looking at me right now. “I feel like I’m dreaming,” I whispered.
He leaned in and kissed the corner of my mouth. “Nah. This is real. All of it. You. Me. Us.”
“Quamaine,” I exhaled slowly. My hand instinctively fell to my stomach. I was speechless. My throat felt tight. I looked back down at the gifts, then up at him.
“You gon’ sit there starin’ at me lookin’ like that all mornin’, or you gon’ open your shit?”
I tossed a pillow at him, and he caught it midair, grinning. Then, he reached for the biggest box and handed it to me like he couldn’t wait another second. I slid out of bed slowly, the sheet still wrapped around me. “Let me brush my teeth real quick. My breath is definitely not matching the vibes in here.”
He smirked, licking his lips. “You sure? I kinda like mornin’ breath if it’s yours.”
I rolled my eyes, pointing at him as I padded barefoot across the hardwood floors toward the bathroom. I heard him chuckle behind me while I grabbed my toothbrush. A few minutes later, I walked back into the bedroom, tossed on the silk black robe. I looked around at the mountain of gifts again and smiled.
“This is really cute,” I said, leaning against the doorframe. “But we’re not opening these in bed. I know you were trying to be romantic, but nope. We’re doing this the real way, around the Christmas tree.”
He looked me up and down. “You givin’ orders now?”
“I am,” I said, lifting a brow. “Come on, Mr. Pajama Pants. Let’s do it right.”
He walked over slowly, BDE dripping, dimples on display. “Only reason I’m lettin’ you call the shots right now is ‘cause you look sexy as fuck tellin’ me what to do.”
“Boy, shut up,” I said, swatting at his chest.
He started grabbing the presents. “Lead the way then, Mrs. Claus.”
We made our way down the stairs, the glow from the Christmas tree lighting up the whole living room in that soft, cozy kind of way that looked like a Hallmark commercial. The fireplace crackled low in the corner. Woods dropped the gifts down on the couch with a low grunt.
“You really wanna do this part before breakfast?”
I looked back at him and smirked. “Yup. But first…” I walked right past the couch, heading into the kitchen, my bare feet gliding across the floor as I turned on the stove.
“What you doin’ now?” he called out.
“Hot chocolate,” I said over my shoulder. “We’re not opening presents without hot chocolate. What kinda childhood did you have?”
“The kind where hot chocolate came out of the vendin’ machine at the car wash,” he said, stepping into the kitchen behind me, laughing. “Shit was watery as hell, but it hit in the winter.”
I shook my head and pulled out a Dutch pot. “Watch and learn,” I said, pouring milk into the pot. “Real hot chocolate requires a little patience.”
Woods leaned against the counter, arms folded, eyes on me the entire time. “I’ma be honest,” he said, voice low. “This domestic shit you got goin’ on be makin’ my dick hard, baby. I could get used to this.”
I tried not to smile but failed. “You better.”
