“How long before we need to be at your sister’s house?”
“Forty minutes.” Rather than ravage me then and there, as I expected him to, he closed his eyes. “What are you doing?”
An adorable crease formed between his brows. “I’m calculating all the ways I could make you come in less than forty minutes.”
Mmm, sexy math.
I hummed when his palms kneaded my ass, rubbing me against his burgeoning erection. “And what did you decide on?”
His eyes sprung open.
“I decided we’re going to be late.”
Austin
The Wheatleys kicked ass.
Literally. They were kicking my ass at every fucking game.
Even Nellie and Leighton’s parents, Hank and Wanda. The pair had at least two-and-a-half decades on the rest of us,and yet here they were, running circles around both Killian—a retired, professional soccer player—and me.
Time to haul my ass back to the gym.
Christmas looked a lot different here than it did in the Amato household, starting with the matching pajamas over brunch and ending with the Minute-to-Win-It-style tournament, aptly named the Wheatley Winter Games. For two hours, we had stacked cups, flung candy canes, and used straws to blow jingle bells from one end of the coffee table to the other.
One by one, I had lost them all. Hell, I had nearly taken an elbow to the groin duringHoliday Nutstacker.
Talk about a great “meet the parents” story.
Despite my humiliation and utter lack of athleticism, I was having the time of my life.
Wanda had taken to me immediately, insisting that I be her partner for the first two games. At first, I’d thought it might have been because of how much she loved her gift. Nellie and Leighton had turned the photos we had taken together into a calendar for their parents, each month featuring side-by-side then and now pictures. Wanda had opened the present after breakfast and promptly burst into tears. Hank, on the other hand, had simply nodded his head and said something akin to, “That’s nice.”
Nellie assured me that that was as good as a standing ovation.
During a brief boozy coffee break, she had also confided in me the real reason her mother wanted to be my partner.
“She thinks you look like David Harbour, her celebrity hall pass.”
“The guy fromStranger Things?”
She nodded. “He also did a movie where he dressed like Santa.”
I laughed when she wagged her brows suggestively. Apparently, she wasn’t the only Wheatley woman who had a thing for the big man in red.
We had just moved on to playing the last game,Snowballing, when my phone vibrated across the table. Nellie smiled when I flashed her the name on screen. “Tell her hi from me.”
I excused myself to the patio and answered Sloane’s call.
“Merry Christmas, buddy.”
“Merry Christmas, boss.”
A slurp from the other end of the phone gave me pause. “What are you doing?”
“Eating ramen and watching football. Duh.”
“Since when are you a football fan?”
