“Thank you,” she murmurs, squeezing me tight.
I let go of the dish I'm scrubbing, wiping my hands quickly on a towel before turning into her embrace. I tilt her chin up, needing to see her face.
“You don't have to thank me for wanting to spend time with you,” I say, my voice rougher than I intended. “It's not exactly a fucking hardship.”
“I know, but—” She bites her lip. “I didn't want to assume. And I know you're not big on holidays.”
I run my thumb along her lower lip, freeing it from her teeth. “I'm not. But I'm big on you.”
The words slip out before I can stop them, more honest than I meant to be. Her eyes widen slightly, and I watch a blush spread across her cheeks.
“We could start our own traditions,” she suggests, her fingers playing with the hem of my shirt. “Nothing crazy. Maybe watch Die Hard since you insist it's a Christmas movie.”
“It is a fucking Christmas movie,” I growl, making her laugh. “And yeah, we could do that.”
She rises on her tiptoes, pressing a soft kiss to my jaw. “And maybe I'll wear something festive for you.” Her hands slide under my shirt, nails scratching lightly down my abs. “Or nothing at all.”
My cock stirs at her words, hardening against her stomach. “I like both options.”
“I thought you might.” She grins, pressing closer. “I'll make breakfast, too. My mom's churro French toast. It'll change your life.”
I cup her face in my hands, suddenly overwhelmed by how much I want this—want her in my space, in my life, making breakfast on Christmas morning wearing nothing but a Santa hat and my marks.
Chapter 23
Hennessy
The church bells are still ringing, echoing across the parking lot where families huddle together in their Christmas best, breath fogging in the December chill. Midnight mass is over, finally.
“Okay, so I'll see you all later,” I say, hitching my purse higher on my shoulder and fishing out my car keys. “Love you guys.”
Dad stops short, his eyebrows nearly reaching his hairline. “Wait, what? Where are you going, mija? You always stay at our house after Mass.”
I glance at Mom, who's already biting back a smile. Abuela adjusts her shawl, watching with twinkling eyes that miss absolutely nothing.
“I'm going to spend the night at my boyfriend's place,” I say, keeping my voice casual even as my heart races.
“Boyfriend?” Dad's voice cracks on the word. “¿Cual boyfriend? Since when do you have a boyfriend serious enough to miss Christmas morning with your family?”
Mom places a gentle hand on his arm. “Javi, Hennessy is twenty-three?—”
“I don't care if she's fifty-three!” Dad exclaims, switching to rapid Spanish. “¡Es Nochebuena! This is a family tradition! And who is this boy? Why haven't I met him?”
“I'm an adult, Dad. I can decide where I want to spend Christmas morning,” I say, fighting the urge to roll my eyes.
“Adult? Pfft!” He throws his hands up. “Just because you have a degree and a job doesn't mean you should be sleeping at some man's house on Christmas Eve! ¡Dios mío! What would your abuelo say?”
Abuela cackles, the sound cutting through the night air. “Your abuelo would say, 'Javier, shut up and let the girl go get some.'”
“¡Mamá!” Dad gasps, scandalized.
I snort, trying to hold back my laughter as Mom loses it beside me, her shoulders shaking with silent giggles.
“What?” my grandmother shrugs, completely unrepentant. “I'm eighty-two, not dead. You think I don't know what young people do? Why do you think I light so many candles to the Virgin? To thank her for the invention of birth control.”
Dad looks like he might pass out, his face cycling through several expressions before settling on pure horror. “This is...this is inappropriate! Hennessy, you're coming home with us. That's final.”
“No, Dad, I'm not,” I say firmly, my spine straightening as I meet his gaze. “I've already opened my present with you guys, we've done the family dinner, and we just finished mass. I'm going tomy boyfriend’s now.”
