Total pages in book: 190
Estimated words: 181992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 181992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
He squinted. “In other words, you just love decorating trees so much that you’re going to cover every last inch of it,” he correctly guessed.
“Don’t judge.” We went back to hanging up the other ornaments and baubles, until finally there was only one thing left. I held up the tree topper. “Will you do the honors?”
He took it from me, eyeing it strangely. “This is a red panda.”
“Wearing a Santa hat, I know. Cute, huh?”
“Since when do people stick these on the top of their trees?”
“Most people likely don’t. But I do. Stars and angels are boring. Red pandas, however? Not at all boring. So … ” I waved a hand at the tree, smiling when he fixed on the topper with an aggravated sigh. “Thank you.”
A muscle in his cheek flexed. “I told you not to—”
“Whatever.” I took a few steps back to properly admire our handiwork. “It looks good.”
He gave what appeared to be a reluctant nod. “Better than I expected.”
“Should I be offended by that? I feel like I should be.”
Grunting, he tipped his chin at the three other boxes he’d hauled down for me. “What’s in those?”
I felt my mouth curve. “Just a few finishing touches,” I replied vaguely.
He mostly stood back and observed as I set up candles, gnomes, nutcrackers, musical ornaments, and the fireplace garland. His scowl did ease when he realized I’d bought him a Christmas stocking—a Grinch-themed one, as I thought it fitting. He then helped me with not only hanging up the door wreath but the outdoor lights.
Once we were done, I gave him another smile. “You had fun. Admit it.”
“Fun,” he repeated in a toneless voice. “Right.”
I rolled my eyes. “Fine, you’re sobbing inside because you loathed every minute of it—whatever. Speaking of misery … I’ll be having my office Christmas party in a few weeks. Are you going to be my plus-one without complaint, or am I going to have to mope and sulk until you agree?”
“No moping or sulking will be necessary. I’ll be having my own Christmas party at some point. I’ll expect you to accompany me.”
“I’ll be there.” I set my hands on my hips. “Now, I need to put these empty boxes back into the storage cupboard. After that, I have plans to watch a movie while sipping hot chocolate. It’s one of my traditions.”
He sighed. “You really do go all-out to celebrate the first day of December, don’t you?”
“Yup. Care to join me? I’m thinking of throwing on Die Hard, but I’m open to suggestions.” I was also well-aware that he was going to walk away, shaking his head, eager for some alone-time. I’d commandeered the majority of his day, after all.
“I have a few emails to send,” he said, collecting the empty boxes, waving away my attempt to help. “Start the movie without me. I’ll join you when I’m done.”
Thrown, I double-blinked. “O-okay.”
He walked away, taking the boxes with him.
Once I’d made a mug of hot chocolate, I settled in the living room and started to watch Die Hard on a streaming service. I’d been expecting him to show up near the end of the movie, but it had only been playing for fifteen minutes when he entered the room.
He sank onto the sofa beside me and draped his arm over the back of it, sitting so close our thighs touched. He didn’t hesitate to do that these days when we watched TV together. Not that we cuddled or—aside from the time when we’d watched The Conjuring 2—he urged me to lean into him or anything. He just had no issues boldly invading my personal space, as if he saw it as his right.
I flicked a glance at the mug I held. “Want a taste?”
“Yes.” He slowly swooped down and then lowered his mouth to mine. He licked and sipped and savored, waking up my body, making every last cell zing.
My belly fluttering, I tried deepening the kiss.
He pulled back and shook his head. “You wanted to watch a movie.”
“Yes. Did. Past tense.” I cupped his dick through his jeans. “Now I want this.”
He let out a low grunt, heat flaring in his eyes. “Do you?”
“Yes.”
He removed my hand and set it on my thigh. “You’ll just have to wait.”
I gave a playful pout. “It’s mine. I should be able to have it whenever I want it.”
Something rippled across his face, his eyes now burning with an indecent lust that hit me in my core. “Yes, it’s yours,” he readily agreed. “But you had your way last night, didn’t you?”
I had indeed. He’d lay back and let me do the exploring and teasing for a change—which I’d done a lot of. “But—”
“No, I wouldn’t dream of stepping on your traditions,” he said, all mock consideration. “That wouldn’t be right.”
This motherfucker.
He cupped my jaw with a no-nonsense grip and turned my face back to the TV. “Watch.”