Page 69 of Christmas Criminal

I attach the piece I've been working on and turn to her, feeling sheepish about this roundabout way of telling her I desperately want her. "Yes."

"I love that," she says, resting her wine on the coffee table and crawling over to me. She sits right in front of me, her knee touching mine. "And also, I think that's the absolutely corniestway a man has ever told me he used to be less discerning but has...found the holiday spirit."

I can't help the laugh that escapes me as she tugs on my neck, bringing my face to hers. She presses her lips against mine as I wrap an arm around her back, pulling her against my chest. I lick at the seam of her lips and she parts for me, a small moan escaping her throat that has all of my muscles taut and ready to go full caveman on her.

When she pulls away from me, she's still grinning. She takes a sip of her wine and returns to the branch she had been fluffing, notching it into place.

"So Mr. Monroe, the goodie two-shoes math teacher, isn’t a one-night kind of guy," she mocks, her eyes flashing with delight as she pulls another branch out of the box.

I laugh before letting out a sigh. "How did I know saying that would come back to bite me in the ass?"

She cackles, one hand coming up to cover her mouth. "Come on, it's so good. You wear your littleI heart mathshirts around and then invite me over toput up your tree," she says, using air quotes. "You really are a secret naughty boy."

I shoot her a look. "Keep talking like that and I'll show you what it means to be naughty."

Her eyes flash. "Oh, I like this side of the math teacher. Sweet and spicy, all in one."

I shake my head. "Drink your wine and fluff your branch."

She starts laughing again, snickering into her forearm as she works on the branch. "Now all I can think about is every naughty tree euphemism I've ever heard. I mean, 'fluff your branch’? Mr. Monroe, the children!"

I can't help but laugh along with her. "To be fair, every single time I mention 'putting up the tree' at this point, I have to stop myself from saying 'erecting the tree.'"

She laughs harder, one hand over her chest as her eyes pinch shut.

Thisis what I want my Christmases to look like. Laughter, red wine, and someone like Noelle fluffing my branch.

It feels so easy.

Once the tree iserected, I pull out the ornaments and we move in a slow circle, arranging them one by one, together. It's indulgent, almost, the way we so lazily pick out one ornament and find the exactrightplace for it together. Even though I'm pretty sure neither of us are paying attention to where it goes. I hold the box as she picks them, holding each one gently as if they're all special in their own way.

And I suppose they are. Most of them were my mom's. Some are family heirlooms. Some I don't even recognize but I can tell by the styling that they're at least fifty years old.

"This one is cute," she says, picking up a simple white one with a cartoon image of a woman and her little boy looking out over a field of Christmas trees. "I bet your mom got this one."

"That or it was gifted to her. She wasn't shy about her love for the holiday so she was always easy to buy for. Anything Christmas-themed she would swoon over and you could bet you'd see it again like clockwork the second Thanksgiving was over. Honestly, I think she displayedeveryChristmas item she hadeveryyear."

Noelle's brow furrows. "That sounds like an awful lot of Christmas."

I nod. "It was suffocating at times, honestly." I shrug. "I ended up throwing out a lot of her Christmas stuff–I couldn't manage all of it and half of it I didn't even recognize. But I kept the stuff that I know she truly loved. And anything that I really liked, of course."

"Of course," Noelle agrees. She places the ornament right in the front of the tree, running her thumb along the bottom ofit before turning back to the box and grabbing another. "That's really nice. Precious, almost, these things that you kept."

"It's always bothered me that I don't display them every year. It's nice that I can this year."

She gives me a quick grin. "All because of me. You're welcome, Nick Monroe."

"Thank you, Noelle Adler, for granting me my Christmas wish," I say, shooting her a quick wink.

She plucks another ornament out of the box. "What else are you wishing for this Christmas?"

You, naked.

I shrug. "This is all I really need."

She nods, digesting this. "Me too, I think."

"Yeah?"

---