Page 21 of Secret Santa

He leaned closer, and I found myself mimicking him until we shared breath. His other hand cupped my face as his eyes searched mine.

“I’m going to kiss you,” he whispered. My eyes fluttered closed moments before his lips pressed against mine, warm and soft. I sighed into him, shifting to wrap my arms around his neck. His tongue snaked along the seam of my lips, and I opened for him.

I held onto him, my fingers tangling in his hair as I pulled him closer. It was like no kiss I’d ever experienced, like we were pouring all our passion into each other and couldn’t separate long enough to come up for air.

His hands left my thigh and face to roam over my body, skimming my hips and waist before sliding up my back. The console between us felt too big, an island between us. I needed to be closer to him.

I needed more.

Too soon, he pulled away and rested his forehead against mine, his breathing heavy. “We need to go inside.” I swallowed hard, still catching my breath. “But we need to do that again. Soon.” I let out a panting laugh as he kissed my forehead before pulling away. His eyes scanned my face again, and I felt like he was going to say something else, but he didn’t. He just led me inside.

9

AIDEN

I didn’t think my house was as big as she was making it seem. It was a few bedrooms, two stories, and had a couple extra fun rooms, like my theater, gym, sauna, and music room. I grew up in a museum-esque home, and it wasn’t one I ever wanted to live in again, so I’d tried to keep my house as warm and inviting as I could. It was something I’m glad I’d done, something I hoped made Danica feel welcome.

Her soft gasp made me smile as we stepped into the small mudroom. I kicked my shoes off and shrugged out of my coat before turning toward her. She looked unsure but did the same. With her heels off, she was a few inches shorter, putting her at eye level with my chest.

“I think Steven—Hannah’s husband—made lasagna,” I noted. “That okay?”

“Perfect.” Her big eyes took everything in, not missing a single detail. I wrapped my hand around hers, and she inhaled sharply before her gaze clashed with mine. Her long throat bobbed as she swallowed. “I thought you said he was a caterer. Why does he make you dinner?” I led her down the small hallway toward the kitchen.

“He thinks I can’t cook for myself,” I said. I flipped the light on as we entered and pulled a barstool out at the island for her.

“Do you know how to cook?” she asked. Leaning my forearms on the marble, I brought us face to face. Her eyes lowered again, but she peeked up at me through her lashes.

She still looked tired, and I needed to feed her and get her to bed soon, but I wanted to be selfish and spend more time with her. I wanted to peel back every layer and get to the real her underneath.

“Do you know how old I am?” I asked, and her brows pinched together in confusion before she shook her head. “I’m forty-three. I’d be pretty terrible at life if I didn’t know how to cook for myself by now, don’t you think?” Red crept from her chest, up her neck, and settled on her full cheeks.

“I didn’t mean—”

“I’m teasing you,” I said, then gently tucked a stray hair behind her ear. It made her smile, and I felt like I’d won the fucking lottery. “Do I need to prove it to you? I make a mean instant-ramen.” She made a choking sound before she threw her head back and laughed.

That’s when I realized it was the first time I’d heard her laugh. Really laugh. I’d heard her soft, polite chuckles, or her little giggles. Not this. I wanted more of this.

“You eat instant-ramen?” she asked as she gently dabbed at her eyes with her finger. Always so prim. It was cute.

“Why wouldn’t I?” I stepped away from the island before I kissed her again. I knew if I did that, I’d cart her to my bedroom and fuck her silly without so much as hesitating, so I stepped away.

Moving toward the pantry, I opened it and scanned the contents. I turned toward her when she didn’t answer, and nearly jumped out of my fucking skin when I found her beside me instead of in the chair where I’d left her.

“Fuck, you move like a ghost,” I gasped as I put my hand to my chest. Amusement—real amusement—twinkled in her eyes as she stared up at me.

“Sorry,” she said, but she didn’t look sorry in the least. She peered around me, and her eyes grew wider. “How many people live here?”

“Just me,” I said, confused as I looked back at the pantry. “Why?”

“You have enough food to feed the whole city.” I laughed as I pushed the door open wider, letting her step in front of me. Her back brushed against my chest, and I couldn’t help myself as I leaned into her.

I gripped onto her hips, gently tugging her back until her ass rested against my front. She was stiff for a moment, then her hands covered mine as she relaxed.

Her head tilted to the side, silently inviting me in. I pressed a gentle kiss to the curve of her neck, and she pressed harder against me. My arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly as I kissed my way up and down her neck, loving the sounds she made.

My cock grew thick and hard against her ass, and I ground against her almost involuntarily. She gripped my pants in her tight, shaky fist as she whimpered.

I knew I needed to stop. I needed to control myself. She was still too exhausted and weak. With the image of her passed out in the cold flashing through my mind, I pulled away. She swayed and I held her until she righted herself. She tipped her head back to look at me, questions and lust burning in her dark eyes. I kissed her forehead, then stepped back, immediately missing her warmth.

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