“Ho, ho, ho, well, isn’t that correct. Thank you for managing my time, Ms. Audrey. You just saved Christmas!”
Anya’s bare feet patter against the floor as she runs after the sister and brother duo. “But, Mommy, there’s no fireplace upstairs, only in the living room. Isn’t that where Santa comes and goes from?”
Audrey stills, taken aback by her daughter, while Nate looks over his shoulder and whispers, “That’s payback for thePlayboyposters.”
He runs off before she gets the chance to hold him back, now having to face her menace of a daughter alone.
“This is different, sweetie. Santa Claus needs to go to the washroom first. He drank too much milk, and his tummy hurts now.” Audrey nods along like she’s trying to convince herself of that as well. “He’s lactose intolerant.”
“But the glass is still full.” Anya gestures toward it.
Natalia and I burst out laughing, no longer able to contain ourselves, when I get a text from Nate, telling me to come upstairs.
The girls are still arguing about Santa Claus’ so-called stomach issues when I sneakily go up the stairs. I barely make it past the last step before I’m shoved against the nearest wall, pillow pressing against my stomach as hands cradle my face.
“I missed you,” Nate whispers against my lips, eyes burning into me with a heat I recognize.
My breathing grows heavy as all the possibilities of what could be going through his mind run through mine. So I cave in to the one thing I can give him right now.
I close the space between us, claiming his mouth in a searing kiss that only grows hotter and heavier as each second passes by.
We’ve always been like this—passionate, urgent in our need for touch—but it’s shifted since we became official.
There’s no more denying our feelings, no fighting what’s between us. And while we technically did take a step down on the commitment ladder, I couldn’t have asked for it to play out any other way.
We’ll have our bumps down the road, like any other couple, but as Margaret showed, a relationship is about going through those hardships with your partner and still choosing each other in the end.
“I can’t get enough of you.” Nate breaks our kiss, leaning back just enough to say the words.
Our separation doesn’t last long before he’s claiming me again. My hand darts up to his bicep, squeezing tightly as I press my body against his. And it’s only now that I realize he’s been hard this whole time.
“You insatiable, greedy little—”
“Mommy! I saw Santa Claus kissing someone who isn’t Mrs. Claus!” Anya shouts from downstairs, her finger pointing straight at us in accusation.
I turn in the opposite direction of the little blond girl, wanting to preserve the little Christmas magic she may or may not have let.
Nate whisks us away from her sight and to the confines of his childhood bedroom with that same idea in mind. In no time, we’re laughing hysterically, feeling guilty over the commotion we’ve caused.
I take this moment to admire him, with his green eyes, eyebrows, thick beard, and curly white hair. This man really is beautiful inside and out. And I can’t help but feel so lucky to have met and gotten to know someone like him.
“Fuck, it was hot,” he remarks as he takes off the Santa hat and beard attachment. Judging by the rosiness to his cheeks, he definitely isn’t exaggerating about the temperature in that suit.
The black buckle and the zipper of his bright red vest are undone next, before the pillow is pulled out of his pants, revealing shredded abs.
I teasingly bite my index finger as I look him up and down, pulling a deep rumble from his chest. My palms land on his pecs, firm and solid beneath my touch. I glide them downward and halt just shy of his waistband.
I’m seconds away from pulling back, wanting to leave him aching for more, when I’m spun around, my hands caught behind my back, and my upper body forced down onto the bed.
“Have you been a bad girl?” Nate asks as he lies on top of me, his hard length pressing against my ass.
I shake my head no, earning me a playful smack on the butt.
“Pretty sure that was the wrong answer,” he drawls as his hands find their way to my jeans. The button pops open, the zipper follows, and I lift my hips to help him get them off despite my oncoming protest.
“Nate, your entire family is downstairs,” I say in between heavy breaths.
He doesn’t answer, only slides the crotch of my lacy red panties to the side.
