“Time for bed,” Maverick announces, setting the Bible aside. “Santa doesn’t visit children who are still awake.”
“I’m not tired!” Isa protests even as she yawns.
“Me either,” Bella says, but she’s already drooping against my side.
The kids scatter to brush teeth and gather their stuffed animals, the older ones herding the younger ones upstairs. Desiree and I follow Bella, who insists on walking despite stumbling over her own feet.
In her room, Desiree pulls back the covers while I help Bella with her slippers, both of us tucking the blankets around her small form.
“Santa knows we’re all together now, right?” Bella asks sleepily, her eyes already half-closed. “He knows to bring presents here instead?”
“Santa knows exactly where you are,” I assure her. “He’s very smart in that way.”
“Good.” She yawns hugely. “I told him in my letter that I wanted us all together for Christmas. Penny helped me spell the big words.”
We whisper our goodnights and slip into the hallway.
The moment Bella’s door closes, the pretense of parental propriety evaporates. I press Desiree against the wall, my mouth finding hers with barely restrained hunger. She melts into me, her soft moan swallowed by my kiss.
“Do you know,” I murmur against her lips, “how hard it was to sit through dinner watching you eat, knowing what you taste like?”
Her nails dig into my shoulders. “Do you know how badly I wanted to pull you into the bathroom during dessert? Get on my knees and taste you instead?”
I slam my mouth against hers, swallowing her gasp. When I pull back, my voice is pure gravel. “Tonight, you’re getting everything you want. But first, I’m making good on my promise. Then you can show me exactly what you were thinking about during dessert.”
“Then stop talking and take me to bed.” Her voice shakes. “I can’t wait anymore. I’ve been aching for you all night.”
“Me too.” I kiss down her neck, finding the mark I left there this morning. “Your room or mine?”
She shivers, tilting her head to give me better access. “Yours.”
I capture her mouth again, pulling her down the hallway, thinking about second chances and Christmas miracles and finally—finally—delivering on the promise I made her in that snowy clearing.
Future Tense
Desiree
The door clicks shut, and Enrick’s mouth collides with mine, tasting like the white chocolate from dessert. His hands slide under my sweater—rough palms, warm skin—and I melt into him with a sound I don’t recognize as my own.
We’re moving. Stumbling backward through the darkness of his bedroom and I barely register the decor because his teeth are on my neck now.
“Been thinking about this,” he growls, walking me backward, “all through dinner.”
My hip hits his dresser. He grips my waist, steadying me, then we’re moving again. The backs of my knees hit the mattress and I’m falling, landing on dark sheets that smell like fabric softener and him.
He follows me down, covering my body with his, and the bed is big enough to get lost in, big enough for everything he promised.
“Enrick—” Breathless. Needy.
His weight presses me into the mattress. “I know, sweetness.” He frames my face, thumbs stroking my cheeks even as his hipspin mine. “I’ve got you. And I won’t let you out of this bed until you come on my dick at least twice.”
His mouth moves down my throat, and I arch into him, desperate for more contact. He takes his time despite my impatience, kissing along my collarbone, pushing my sweater up inch by torturous inch.
“Enrick, please—”
“Shhh.” He sits back on his heels, straddling my thighs, and pulls my shirt over my head. The air hits my skin, and I shiver. “I’ve waited six years for this. I’m not rushing.”
The way he looks at me makes me wetter than I already am. The flats of his palms skim up my sides, fingers brushing the undersides of my breasts through my bra.
