Page 64 of The Holiday Games

“I have a room,” I murmur between kisses. “Ainsley and Trevor booked me into the Snowman Suite for three nights. They heard a storm was coming and want us to be snowed in with nothing to do but each other.”

Caroline hums against my lips. “Best friends ever. Kayla, too.”

“Absolutely We should name our first child after her. Even if it’s a boy.”

She pulls back, studying me with a mixture of awe and affection that I want to keep on her face forever. “Do you really want to have babies with me, Mr. Fenton?”

“I want to have everything with you, woman,” I say, love for her pumping through my veins with a steady warmth that makes me certain I don’t have to hold back. “I want forever and a day and family and fun and all your orgasms. Every single one.”

She laughs, her eyes shining with emotion as she whispers, “I want that, too. And I want a promise from you.”

I nod. “Anything.”

“Promise me we’ll never let anyone come between us again.” She rests her hand against my face, and that simple touch makes me feel more loved than I ever have before. “We’re a team. United. Unbreakable. No matter what comes next.”

“No matter what,” I echo.

We come together again, lips meeting slow and steady, sealing our vow with a kiss. And then she leads me to the front desk, where we collect the key to the Snowman Suite from a beaming Kayla and a sassy-as-ever Greg.

Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,he calls after us.

Glancing over my shoulder, I shoot back, “Considering you’re neutered, buddy, I think that might be a problem.”

Greg cackles,That’s what you think, Sad Sack. Your boy’s been tapping ass left and right in this one Tomcat town. Come spring, you’re going to be a grandpa. Probably several times over.

“Shit,” I mutter.

Caroline arches a brow. “What’s wrong?”

“I think Vivian might have lied about Greg being neutered, too.”

She hums thoughtfully. “It’s possible, I guess.” Her lips quirk up as she adds, “Or you might possibly, just possibly…be imagining things. As clever as Greg is, I don’t think he actually has telepathic powers of conversation he employs solely to torture you.”

That’s what she thinks,Greg crows gleefully before leaping off the front desk and prowling toward the giant tree near the fireplace.Now, scram, you two. I have ornaments to destroy. That angel at the top has been taunting me for days. It’s time to settle the score with that winged creep, once and for all.

I sigh, shaking my head as I turn back to Caroline. “Well, either way, there’s nothing we can do about it now. I’ll look around for a local vet as soon they’re open after the holiday, and we can take things from there.”

Oh no, you won’t,Greg calls from the base of the tree.Touch my stuff, and I’ll touchyourstuff. With my claws. You’ll be a eunuch by Valentine’s Day.

Ignoring the horny menace I unintentionally unleashed upon the innocent female cats of Reindeer Corners, I follow Caroline down the hall to our room, where we shut the door and come together with twin sighs of relief.

“I thought I’d never squeeze your ass again,” I say, gripping the twin swells of her delicious backside as we kiss our way across the thick carpet toward the bed in the corner. “I was so broken up about it, I could barely function.”

“Me, too,” she says gripping the bottom of my sweater and dragging it up and over my head. She tosses it aside and pulls me close again, murmuring, “Everything felt wrong and stupid without you. I was considering moving into a cave and becoming a crusty hermit.”

“No way,” I say, bunching the bottom of her sweater dress—the black one I bought for her, a fact that gave me hope as soon as I walked in the door—in my hands. “You’d be a hot hermit.”

She arches a dubious brow, holding my gaze as I draw the fabric up to her ribs, seconds away from unwrapping the only present I want this holiday season. “Says the man who’s never seen me first thing in the morning.”

“I can’t wait to see you first thing in the morning,” I say, joy flooding through me at the thought…and at the sight of her now standing in front of me in nothing but a black lace bra and tiny panties. “Let’s go to sleep right now, so morning will come faster.”

She laughs as she steps away, propping a teasing hand on her hip. “Yeah? Right now? Do not pass go, do not rip off the rest of our clothes and bang like frisky reindeer?”

I hum beneath my breath, intrigued. “And how do frisky reindeer bang, Ms. Cane?”

“How about I show you, Mr. Fenton,” she says, her eyes dancing as she tackles me onto the bed.

And then her lips are on mine and our hands are everywhere and I’m the happiest man on the Eastern Seaboard. Hell, probably the Western Seaboard, too. My friends in L.A. are all overworked and miserable, pawns in the Hollywood game ninety-nine percent of us will never win.

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