Page 19 of Christmas With the Convict

It’s good that my parents or anyone else aren’t here to see us walking back toward the cabin. If they saw my face, if they could feel the warmth radiating from my core, they’d know in a heartbeat what’s happening between us.

They’d be fools not to see it.

We take our time on the walk back, playing in the snow or pushing each other on our skis. I plop down and make a snow angel, but Chase messes it up with his boot right away.

“Hey!” I slap his arm.

“Nope,” he says. “There’s only room for one angel on this mountain.”

Nobody is at the house when we arrive.

It’s strange when this big house is empty. Usually, when I’m here alone, I grab a book and sit by the fire.

But with Chase here, I’ve got other plans.

I lead him upstairs once we put our gear away. He walks cautiously behind me as if he’s crossing some forbidden threshold. Still, he follows me into my room, taking in all my pictures and posters and even more books before I urge him into my bathroom with my finger.

With the hot water steaming up the mirrors, I slip out of my last layer of clothes.

“Do you think they’ll be back soon?” Chase asks, watching me undress.

I shrug. “If you’re worried about it, then bequick.”

He smiles and tugs at that tight shirt. I help him get it over his beefy body, and we instantly fall into each other’s arms and lips.

We barely make it into the shower.

How can anything feel this good?

It’sinfuriatinghow badly I need him inside of me now. I’ve been thinking about this for months, and I never came close to imagining the reality of Chase Oliver’s body linked with mine.

He’s a perfect string of words that’s jumped off the page and into my life.

No Christmas present or New Year’s kiss could ever compete.

Nothing will keep me from him.

“Wendy! WENDY BETTENCOURT! GET DOWN HERE!”

Oh, shit.

My father is home, and his roar shakes the foundations.

Chase nearly slips and cracks his head flying out of the shower. I’m right on his heels. I throw him a towel.

“Get your clothes back on,” I hiss as I run into my room.

I fly through my drawers, not bothering with any underwear and getting into a hoodie and sweats. Chase comes out of the bathroom in his long johns and undershirt. My eyes fall to the beautiful but obvious bulge between his legs.

“Put that thing away!”

Chase throws his hands up. “Stop being so sexy.”

If it weren’t for my father barking downstairs, footfalls fast approaching, I’d kiss this man right now. I sit Chase down on my bed with a pillow in his lap just as my bedroom door flies open.

Dad is still in his ski boots, fuming red and staring right at Chase.

“There you are.” He points a rigid finger at him. “You fuckingthief.”

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