ShouldI ignore it? What’s the etiquette protocol for accidental boner rubbing? They don’t teach this shit in the game of life handbook!
Should I pretend I don’t feel that? This is just nature doing its nature-y thing when two bodies are pressed up against each other, right?
Right?!
He continues letting me slide down his body until my stockinged feet touch the floor again. Because of our height difference, that hardness is now cushioned against my stomach. I stare up at him, my eyes bouncing between his, then down to his mouth. His jaw is clenched shut tight; his lips pulled thin. But those eyes, those crystal blue eyes, are hot as they stare down at me.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, my lips barely moving. I’m holding impossibly still, avoiding rubbing against him anymore than I already have. His throat bobs as he swallows hard. My hearttrips over itself as his hands span across my hips, flexing, fingers digging into the softness above my butt.
“Just give me a second,” he breaths, his voice low, gravelly. It hits me low in my belly, and Miss Kitty likes the way his voice skitters along every nerve ending, lighting me up like the lights strung up around the room. A rough, scoffing laugh escapes him, the corner of his mouth tilting up, and those eyes are back to twinkling mischievously. “One guess of what your present is.”
Shoving away from him with my hands on his chest, I can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of me. It breaks the tension from whatever the hell this is. I try—I swear I fucking try—to keep my eyes away from what’s going on south of his beltline, but sweet baby Jesus…
Snapping my eyes back up to his, he winks, and my gaze is drawn down again as one of his hands flattens against the bulge between his legs. His eyebrows dip into a slight V and his teeth sink into the fleshy part of his bottom lip as an almost silent groan leaves his mouth. My mouth drops open, shamelessly watching that large hand press against the thickness beneath it.
“Angel, my eyes are up here,” he whispers, and I blush fiercely at being caught. A grin tilts up his mouth, his blue eyes dancing. He tsks lightly, making me roll my eyes.
Dammithe’s good looking. I noticed that before, right? My eyes flicker up to the mistletoe now hanging above us, then back to his mouth. His grin widens.
Stepping toward me, he tilts my face up with one finger beneath my chin. “Don’t worry, I’ll meet you under the mistletoe before the end of the night, Noelle.”
And then he moves around me, disappearing out of the double French doors and into the hallway. Leaving me stunned and speechless… and ridiculously turned on.
Chapter Eleven
Theo
Imake a detour into the bathroom as soon as I’m out of the study—because I cannot walk into the kitchen where both of our families are with a raging boner—and lean my hands on the bathroom sink. Hanging my head between my shoulders as I take in deep, steadying breaths, I focus on letting them out just as slowly.
Christ, I’m so hard it hurts. I’d been pressed right against her, right where I want to be the most, and the heat at the apex of her thighs had nearly done me in. I could have wrapped her legs around my waist. Could have ground up against her, letting her feel more, letting her feel just how fucking hard I am for her. Only for her. Always for her.
If those green eyes blown wide, that mouth falling open with those quick, panting breaths had been any indication, she liked what she’d felt. Her watching me palm my dick through my pants—through this stupid fucking Santa suit—had not helped in the slightest.
Palming myself again, I press down, willing my body to cooperate.
Part of me knows I should be embarrassed, or at the very least want to apologize, as I’d been raised to respect women… but I just can’t. Because now Noelle knows. Or least is becoming aware of me as more than just her goofy fucking golden retriever bestie. And I refuse to let myself feel any embarrassment over how hard this woman makes me. I want her. I’ve wanted her for so long I can’t remember a time I didn’t.
I’ve wanted to kiss Noelle Compton under the mistletoe since we were twelve… and dammit, I’m going to. Tonight.
Chapter Twelve
Noelle
Ican’t keep my eyes off of Theo. All night. It’s getting a little out of hand.
The man appeared in the kitchen after me, looking like we hadn’t practically just dry humped in the study. Arms out wide, wearing that ridiculous Santa suit, the hat still on his head, he went around the room hugging everyone in greeting.
We ate dinner—Mom had gone all out on the feast, as usual—and then we migrated into the living room. Beau stoked the fire in the fireplace until it was roaring nicely, the crackle and snap of the logs drowned out by the laughter and chatter. Presents were handed out—by Theo, of course, he takes his Santa duties very seriously—and they were opened one by one.
I’m sitting on the floor, my back resting against the front of the couch where Willow is sitting behind me next to Luck. Mom is in the other corner of the couch, Beau and Val are snuggling in one of the oversized loveseats, and Drew and Marnie have taken up seats in two cozy recliners. Glasses of wine and highballs of whisky are either half empty or just freshly refilled. I take a sip of my wine, watching my favorite people around the room.
Theo walks up in front of me, sinking down onto the floor directly next to me with a quiet groan as he folds his six-foot four body on the floor, leaning his back against the couch, too, forcing Luck to shift his knees to the side with a grumble about personal space. Our shoulders are nearly touching. He took the thick velvet Santa jacket and pants off a while ago, changing into a pair of well-worn jeans and that same long-sleeved t-shirt from this morning with the check boxes on it. The Santa hat is still on his head, though, slightly lopsided. His blonde hair peeks out from beneath the white fur trim, and my fingers ache to reach out and slide my fingers through his hair.
Fingers shaking with the sudden compulsion to touch him, I take another sip of my wine before glancing out of the corner of my eye at him. He grins down at me, holding out a red paper wrapped gift to me. It looks like a photo frame, like an eleven by fourteen inch. There’s a white ribbon tied around it.
“You didn’t have to get me anything,” I murmur, setting my wine down on the floor next to me, then reach out and take the gift out of his hand. It’s definitely a picture frame of some kind. I set it in my lap.
“Mmhmm. Just like you didn’t have to get me anything, either,” he grumbles, winking at me. “Those seats are going to be amazing.”
