She pushed me down onto Austin’s knee before I had a chance to protest. I gasped when my clit connected with hard, thick thigh. Thank goodness he was wearing crushed velvet. The more layers between him and my weeping pussy, the better.
“You don’t mind, Austin, right?”
He cleared his throat. “Oh, uh, not at all.” Was it me, or had his voice dropped an octave?
“I can see that picture with the mall Santa so clearly. Okay, Nell, lean back and just straddle Austin’s knee a little bit more.”
Sweet. Lord.
I was going to kill her for this.
“Yes, just like that. And then, Austin, wrap your arm around her and rest your hand on her stomach.”
He lifted his palm and then stopped, hesitating. “Is this okay?” he asked softly. “You can tell me if—”
“You’re fine.” I couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes, not when my cheeks were no doubt flushed redder than Rudolph’s nose. Instead, I felt for his hand and circled it around my middle.Dear lord, his palm covers my entire stomach.“There.” He was suddenly quiet. “Does that work for you?”
“Yeah,” he grumbled. “That works.”
“Okay, I’m going to squeeze in next to Austin.”
The moment Leighton crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against Austin, the memory hit me all at once. I could see the photo she was talking about, the one that she had framed with popsicle sticks in first or second grade and which Mom still hung on the tree to this very day.
“Smile,” Nora reminded us, snapping a photo on her cellphone while Sloane continued clicking away on her camera.
The fingers on my stomach twitched, gently toying with one of the embroidered holly berries. And then, because I was a glutton for punishment—but only if Austin did the punishing—I wiggled my core against his thigh, gasping when the movement sent shockwaves ratcheting through my clit, all ten thousand nerve endings firing at once. His entire body clenched when I did it a second time.
“Janelle,” he whispered against my neck. I shivered when those thick fingers dipped a little lower, inching closer to my pulsing center. “You wouldn’t want me to put you on the naughty list, would you?”
The sudden flash of Sloane’s camera had me jolting up and out of Austin’s lap. “We’ve really taken up more than enough of your time,” I told them, fumbling for excuses. “You still have a lot of pussy— I mean,catsand dogs to get to.”
Austin blinked back at me, torn between amusement and, dare I say, disappointment?
What the fuck had I been thinking, grinding on a pet store Santa like that? My neighbor, of all people. And as I hustled Nora and Leighton out of the pet store as quickly as my Aircast would allow, all I could do was think about his question.
“You wouldn’t want me to put you on the naughty list, would you?”
It wasn’t the question that worried me, nor the rough timbre of his voice. No, what concerned me most was my answer.
An emphatic and resoundingfuck yes.
Austin
Everybody grew up withthatfamily. The one that wore color-coordinated, semiformal wear to Christmas Eve dinner and sent out holiday cards with an essay attached, detailing every single accomplishment of each family member from the past year. They preferred store-bought Christmas cookies over homemade—for efficiency, of course—and created a laminated set of rules for the annual gift exchange game. For them, Christmas was a show, another opportunity to broadcast their success to neighbors, colleagues, and whoever else was unlucky enough to follow them on Facebook.
Well,thatfamily wasmyfamily.
Which was reason #82491 why I dreaded going home for the holidays.
“There’s a flight out of LAX at seven a.m. Four-and-a-half hours of flight time, plus the time change . . . that should get you to Cleveland right around two-thirty p.m. That leaves exactly thirty minutes to grab your bag and make it home in time for dinner.”
Spoken like a CPA.
I topped off my second cup of coffee. It was going on six o’clock, but I had a long night of editing ahead of me. Besides, I was going to need the extra caffeine boost to keep up with my sister’s Christmas math.
“Char, slow down.”
“This is serious. This is my first year hosting the family for Christmas, so I can’t screw it up.”
