Page 109 of Filthy Rich Santas

“Whatever you want,” Tristan agrees, settling down next to me as Ryder follows through on his promise and brings me a plate.

Beckett takes the seat on the other side of me, and they fire upIt’s a Wonderful Lifewhile we eat.

Halfway through the movie, Beckett surprises me by silently pulling out his knitting supplies, and I can’t stop myself from reaching out to stroke the soft yarn he’s using. It’s the dark green of a winter forest, the same green as his eyes, and the sight of his thick, tattooed fingers manipulating the thin needles so gracefully is almost mesmerizing.

He adds a couple of inches to what seems to be another scarf, then looks up at me with an almost imperceptible smile.

“Want to learn?”

I nod eagerly, feeling a little thrill as Beckett shifts closer, his warmth radiating against my side. I really am interested, but more than that, it feels like an olive branch. Like he’s opening up to me, even if it’s not with words.

He hands me a spare set of needles and a ball of soft, cream-colored yarn.

“You ever tried this before?”

I shake my head.

“Okay,” he rumbles, his deep voice oddly soothing. “First, you need to learn to cast on. Watch me.”

He creates a neat row of loops on his needle, then nods toward the supplies he handed me.

“Give it a try.”

My first attempt is clumsy, the yarn tangling around my fingers.

“Oh, shoot.” I laugh at myself as I hold up the disaster. “How did you make it look so easy?”

Beckett grunts, but there’s a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Everyone starts somewhere. Here, let me help.”

His hands envelop mine, guiding my movements and sending a rush of butterflies cascading through my stomach.

Ryder chuckles, getting to his feet as Beckett demonstrates the technique again. “Hot chocolate?”

“I’ve created a monster,” I tease him.

He grins. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“It’s always a yes,” I murmur, most of my attention on copying the movements Beckett showed me.

“That’s it,” he says once I’ve finally made it through a complete row. “I knew you could do it.”

His praise sends a wave of warmth through me. As Beckett continues his patient instruction, being sweeter than I ever would have guessed he could be in his own reserved way, the atmosphere between all four of us is relaxed and cozy.

It’s a low-key sort of fun that has nothing whatsoever to do with keeping up the kind of appearances that are so important to my family. With the four of us chatting and laughing as one of my favorite movies plays softly in the background, I’m struck by how comfortable this all feels. How right.

My hands may still be clumsy with the needles, but here, nestled between these three men, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be… and it would be everything I want right now if a small part of me didn’t also feel that the night, one of the very few I have with them, is also being wasted.

I sigh. I don’t mean to. But even though I’m enjoying this time with them, I also feel a twinge of disappointment.

“Everything okay there, freckles?” Tristan asks.

I hesitate for just a second before replying, but then nod.

I love hanging out with them like this. Getting to know them more deeply has only made me care for them more, which makes it feels selfish to admit that I feel like I’m missing out right now.

We agreed to a road trip full of kinky exploration, of pushing boundaries and indulging desires, but ever since leaving the hospital, none of them have made any moves to touch me beyond the most innocent of contact. Even the intimacy I felt with Tristan in the bath was more about comfort than sex.

But I hold my tongue, because I know what happened earlier scared them, and I really do appreciate the overwhelming sense from all three of just how much they care for me.

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