Page 84 of Wicked Serve

Izzy

“You sure they don’t mind me staying with you?”

I glance over my shoulder at Nik. “They know we’re having sex.”

“I’m sure you have a guest bedroom. Or I could sleep on the couch.”

“And disturb Santa? No way.” I open the door to my bedroom, waving him inside. “No one is going to lock you outside again, I promise.”

He groans. I grin at him as I flip the light switch. What James did was effective, after all, and Cooper suffered right alongside him. Aside from trying to convince Nik to take the cursed toy soldier game piece—which, for the record, no one has tried on any of my brothers’ significant others—the evening went smoothly; he even ate three sugar cookies after he heard I’m the one who made them. Sebastian and Mia pulled off a suspicious Monopoly victory, and we ended the night with The Family Stone and glasses of Irish cream. I ought to be ready to pass out, but instead, I’m all fired up. And possibly a little tipsy. I’m glad I’m not the only one going to bed without a partner tonight.

“Whoa, sweetheart,” he says, stopping in his tracks. “This is a lot of pink.”

I flick his cheek. “You knew this about me.”

“And that’s an army of stuffed animals.”

I scoop an armful of stuffies from the bed, dumping them onto my desk. He’s right, the walls of my room are pink, as is the rug on the floor, my bedding, and even the fan on the ceiling. The furniture is a uniform white; while the bed is bigger now, I still have the desk and rocking chair my parents bought for me when I was little. The bench underneath the picture window, one of my favorite places in the house, is covered in throw pillows in various shades of pink, with more stuffed toys keeping guard. The exterior Christmas lights provide enough of a glow that I can see the snow-covered trees outside.

Nik peers at a shelf full of volleyball trophies, then trails his finger over the spines of the books nestled into the built-ins above my desk. He lifts an eyebrow as I move even more stuffed animals. “How many do you have?”

“I’m not sure, I’ve never counted.”

“Liar.”

I bite my lip, smiling. “Okay. About two hundred, if you count the ones I brought to school.”

“That’s terrifying. And impressive.”

Desire lurches through me at the fond expression on his face. “Come here.”

He gives me a cream-and-whiskey kiss. I try to focus as he draws a finger up and down my spine, but it’s hard. He smells deliciously clean, and his sweater, a fresh one that he changed into after the snowball fight, is ultrasoft cashmere. I rub my cheek against his shoulder, gasping when his hands work underneath my dress.

“This fucking dress,” he rasps. “I’ve wanted to peel it off you for hours.”

Despite the dirty words, he makes no move to back me against the bed. He slowly hikes the dress up my thighs, my bottom. I bite his lip, giggling breathlessly at the way it makes him moan. “Consider it an early Christmas present. Although you’ll be very impressed with my real one tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, shoot. That reminds me, I left all your presents in the city.”

I jab him in his rock-hard abs. “Now who’s the liar?”

“Don’t worry,” he says, grinning as he ducks in for another kiss. “I have plenty of presents for you.”

“You already gave me a present.” I scratch my nails through his hair. “You made up with Cooper. Although I don’t know why he had to throw a snowball at your face.”

Something about that makes him go still.

“Look, I... I tried to goad him into taking a swing at me, outside the hospital.”

“You what?”

“I know,” he says shortly. “It was stupid.”

I unwind myself from him, tugging down my dress. “I told you to talk to him!”

“And I’d just seen the evidence of what happened when I let you go,” he snaps. “I would’ve deserved that punch.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “I know you hockey players like to talk a big game about throwing punches—”

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