“Maybe everyone else is outside.”
“It’s Christmas morning.”
“Shit,” I hiss, springing from the bed and scrambling to the bathroom. “We slept in!”
My heart rages in my ears as I wash my hands, slip on my house shoes, and brush my teeth. Then I attempt to tame my hair to hide the fact that I spent my night with a six-foot-four sex wizard running his hands through it while I choked on his cock.
Two braids down my shoulders is as good as it’s going to get.
When I open the door, Gavin sits on the edge of the bed, his face as white as a sheet. “I never sleep this late,” he blurts.
Stepping in front of his knees, I lift his chin until he meets my stare. “I think both of us sleep better when we’re together.” I run a hand through his silky strands, pressing down on the little cowlick on the side. He’s adorably rumpled this morning, with pillow creases on his cheek and sleepy eyes blinking up at me.
As he nods, Ialmostbend down to kiss him. My lips tingle with the urge to do it.
But I remember the plan at the last moment.
I told him one more night. I promised him. And every step of the way, it has beenmepushing for more.Mebegging him to touch me again.
It’s probably time to stop pestering him.
“We have about four seconds before someone either comes back up here or we miss opening stockings,” I say, pulling him to stand. “And I need a peppermint mocha, and you’re the only person who knows how to make them the way I like.”
One corner of his lips kicks up in a grin as he rises to follow me out of the bedroom.
The house is eerily quiet as we descend the stairs. When I reach the bottom step and see the living room, Auggie and Zara are missing, and no one else looks our way. The kids are buzzing with anticipation as they clutch their stockings, patiently waiting for all of us to get started.
The smell of cinnamon and sugar daws us into the kitchen, alerting me to the fact that someone must’ve started the cinnamon rolls without Gavin. As my hand wraps around the coffee pot, angry, hushed voices filter from the laundry room.
Zara’s distinctly firm tone whispers, “It’s Christmas morning. If you have a problem with something, keep it to yourself until later.”
I’m not trying to snoop, but stifling curiosity is not something I believe in. So I hold my breath, hoping to hear more as Gavin checks the cinnamon rolls.
There’s a long beat of silence, and then Auggie grunts afine.I can practically feel his scowl lasering into my back as he leaves the laundry room, and I stay frozen in place until I can’t hear his stomped footsteps anymore.
Gavin lets out an unsteady sigh as he joins me at the coffee pot. He pulls my mug in front of him and grabs the peppermint and chocolate syrups from the cabinet, drizzling them into both of our cups.
My grin blooms slowly as I watch him contaminate his black coffee with the sweet additions. Then he gets the half-and-half and his homemade whipped cream from the fridge to finish them off.
He meets my gaze as we clink our festive mugs together, mine adorned in a snowy tree scene, and his decorated with elves in a workshop.
“Thank you,” I whisper with a secret smile just for him.
“Anytime.”
As he takes a sip, I wait for his reaction with bated breath. When he lowers the mug, he bites back a grin. “It’s pretty good.”
I don’t even try to hide my smug smile as we turn to join the Christmas-morning calamity. My free hand floats toward him, and I slide my pinky around his, linking them together until we get to the living room.
“Okay, we have one more gift this morning.” Auggie stands by the coffee table, wrapping paper and presents littering the floor around him. “Everyone is going to have to get dressed to go outside, though.” He glances at Gavin, lifting his brows in question, but there’s a heat to his expression that I wish I could smack right off my brother’s face.
A silent conversation takes place between them before Gavin nods. “Yeah, let's do it.”
As we all layer ourselves in jackets, boots, hats, and gloves, the list of what we could possibly be doing runs through my mind like news headlines.
Tired father accidentally buys his ten-year-old daughter a car for Christmas.
Best friends reveal they’ve caught the real Edward Cullen and kept him tied up in the shed.
