Page 19 of Big Nick Energy

“I don’t know.” She shrugged shyly. But not so shyly that she didn’t touch me. No, my girl was obviously comfortable straddling me. Her hands rested on my shoulders. The only thing that would have made it better would have been less layers between us. Thankfully, I’d taken the sweater off when we got home and I started to move the Christmas tree around, but she was still all covered up.

“Come on,” I tried to coax. “What did you used to ask Santa for?”

“Honestly?” I nodded and tucked a stray hair behind her ear.

“Always,” I rasped. I never wanted anything between us.

“I used to want my mom to meet someone.” She squished her nose adorably. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, there was always some kind of toy I wanted as a kid, so don’t think I was so selfless, but… I wanted…” Her voice drifted to nothing, and her gaze dropped to my shoulder. “My dad died when I was almost two. My sister, Griselda, had just been born, and my brother was about six, I think? Maybe five. Anyhow, umm…” She pressed her lips together. “I don’t remember him. I don’t think any of us really do,” she shared quietly. “I think in a way, as crappy as thatis, it’s better that way. We didn’t know what it was like to have a dad, so we didn’t know the loss, but?—“

“What, baby?” I tipped her head up, needing her eyes on me.

“But you see other people, other families with two parents at home, and then you realize how much your mom struggled. I don’t know… I always thought if she had someone to help her out, a partner, life would be easier for her.”

“Did she date?” I asked.

“No.” She shook her head. “I don’t think it was that she didn’t want to. I just think she was too busy. Always working and probably worried about bringing someone into our home. Then, when my brother started to play football and Gris did dance…she genuinely didn’t have time.”

“What did you do? Growing up?”

“I hung out and bugged my brother and sister.” She grinned. “I didn’t join anything.”

“Why?” I watched her eyes drop down, and the hesitation in them. “Honestly, babe.”

“Honestly? Because I didn’t want to add more to her plate. I saw how hard she worked. Always scrimping and saving for cleats and ballet shoes…” She made that squishy face again, and I stroked her jaw.

“Anyhow.” She rolled her eyes. It was obvious she was done with this conversation. “Sitting like this can’t be comfortable for you,” she mumbled, then I felt her try to get off my lap.

Not that I let her. My hands tightened their hold on her hips. Those pretty, brown eyes of hers widened.

“Nick,” she whispered, and I brushed my nose against hers.

“I think you can feel just how comfortable I am. I like you sitting here. I’m pretty sure I got the best seat in the house,” I murmured. My lips hovered over hers. Blanca’s sweet little body ground against me, and with her thighs over mine, it left herlined up perfectly against the bulge currently trying to get out of my cargos.

“I don’t know… This feels like a pretty good seat, too,” she rasped while her fingers dove into my hair, gently stroking the ends.

“What happened to him?”

“Him?” she asked, leaning closer. I knew it wasn’t the right time or place. My dick was yelling at me to shut the fuck up and not ruin the moment.

“Your dad,” I answered as I stared into the eyes I’d be looking at for the rest of my life. Sex would happen eventually. We had a lifetime for that.

“My dad?” she repeated. I couldn’t help myself. I cupped her face, stroking her temples with the pads of my fingers, wondering in awe how the hell she was that soft. “He was in the wrong place at the wrong time,” she vaguely answered.

“How?”

“You really want to talk about this right now?” She shifted, reminding me of just how perfectly aligned we were.

“I want to know you. Everything about you.”

“Hmm.” Her eyes warmed up. “I always asked Santa for someone for my mom,” she repeated and inhaled deeply. “That’s how I figured out Santa wasn’t real,” she shared, not answering about her dad but still giving me a little insight about herself.

I hated that for her.

I wanted her to have someone she could tell all her hopes and dreams to and who would be by her side to help her make them come true.

“What if I told you Santa was real?” I challenged, and she playfully rolled her eyes.

“Santa’s not?—“

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