Page 14 of The Holiday Inheritance

“Yeah?” he asks, his hips beginning to pick up the pace, almost slamming into me each time. It’s hard to catch my breath or even keep my eyes open. The pleasure is an assault on mysenses. “You want me to take you like this every morning?” he continues. “Eat you for lunch, then bend you over the table for dinner?”

“Oh, god,” I gasp as that slight curve in his cock hits an even deeper spot.

“That’s my girl,” he coos. “Come with me. Show me just how much you need this.”

I hold his face, our eyes locked on one another’s, and let the rest of the world fade into the background. Right now, it’s just me and Briggs, enjoying each other’s bodies and company. It’s just us in this secret little snowed-in world. There’s no one watching us to see what will happen, no one to gossip to, no one to make me second-guess myself. There’s just us and this moment we’re in.

As both of us come, we hold on to each other. It’s probably the most intimate moment I’ve ever shared with another person. If I let the anxious voice in the back of my head have control, I’ll start to panic that this is all happening too fast—too soon. But we agreed we’re on the same page, so I push all of those thoughts away and just enjoy the feeling of connecting with him.

After lyingin bed together until almost lunchtime, we decided to watch Christmas movies like my parents and I used to do. There was no decorating any of the Christmas trees, since that had all been done before I got here, but he did find cookie dough in the fridge. And for premade dough, those things were amazing.

As the day went on, we decided to dig through the several deep freezers in the back of the home—which, why do we have so many, may I ask?—hoping to find a good amount of ingredientsthat we could make a Christmas dinner with. Briggs tells me that the plows won’t really bother with working until after Boxing Day, so we’re definitely stuck here until the twenty-seventh. Not to worry, though, because we have four deep freezers full of food.

Apparently, my great-aunt was a bit of a hoarder.

“We always do pizza on Christmas Eve,” Briggs says, lifting a turkey the size of a small toddler out of the chest freezer. “And while I love this time with you, I think I’d kill for a Christmas Eve pizza right about now.”

I laugh, pulling out a frozen bag of rolls from the one I’m digging through. “With all this food, we can surely find the shit to make a pizza or two. I know I saw marinara in the pantry and some fresh mozzarella in the fridge.”

We carry all of our findings back to the kitchen, laying everything out on the table. Between the pantry and the freezers, we found turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce, rolls, and one lonesome blackberry pie that Briggs swears has been there for at least a year. I’m not complaining, though. It’s been frozen, so whatever. I just want some pie.

“Also,” he says, smirking as he walks over to where I’ve hopped up onto a counter, “I may not have found any pizza dough, but I did find…” He whips out a red-and-yellow box. “Garlic bread!”

“I used to make these when I was in college,” I tell him. “Mini pizzas made out of garlic bread?” I kiss my fingers. “Perfection when you come in late from a night out.”

“Oh, yeah?” He tosses the box onto the counter next to me and then cages me in with his arms. I’m just taller than him from this angle, and I lean forward to rest on my palms, putting us back on the same eye level. “You a party girl, little duck?”

“Now?” I laugh, placing my forearms on his shoulders and playing with his hair that brushes his neck. “God, no. When I hit twenty-five, my body just stopped accepting alcohol. It was likeovernight I couldn’t hold it any longer. I’d throw up almost every time.”

I make a face, and he mimics it, scrunching his nose and barely containing a laugh. “I was never really a big drinker.” He shrugs. “I’d go out and get some beers with my friends every once in a while, but Dad was a nightmare at times. I knew I had to be at this place bright and early five days a week, even when I was a teen, and a hangover from my off days would not be a good enough excuse to get out of it.”

He smiles at the memories, while they sound awful to me because, if I’m honest, I was spoiled as hell. I was my parents’ only child, so they coddled the hell out of me. I don’t think I had a job until I went to college. Mom always told me I needed to get one in high school to help pay for my car and the insurance for it, but Dad was such a pushover that it was never enforced. So to know Briggs was working his ass off even as a teenager kind of makes me sad for him.

“Doesn’t sound like a lot of fun was had,” I say, the twinge of pity showing in my tone.

“Ah,” he says, dismissing the thought. “It might not have always been at the time, but looking back, I’m glad I got all that time with him.” Briggs smiles and leans in for a soft kiss. “I take it you were the spoiled angel child?”

My head falls forward as I laugh. “Yes.” I pull back and shake my head, rolling my eyes. “Of course, I would never complain about how I grew up. I know I was very privileged, and clearly still very much am. But I do wish they had forced me to do a bit more than they did. When I lost both of them, I suddenly realized I didn’t know shit about fuck all.”

“Shit about fuck all,” he repeats, his voice filled with humor. He grabs my hands, folding our fingers together. “That’s a new one.”

“It’s true!” He steps between my legs and brings one of my hands to his lips, kissing my knuckles as I speak. “I didn’t know the first thing about taxes, interest rates on credit cards, or how to even fill out a W-2 for my job!”

“What’s a W-2?” he asks, his brow pulling together.

“It’s a thing Americans have to fill out for the IRS. Estimates how much they should be taking out of our paycheck, shows them that we’re legal to work, et cetera.” I shrug. “I think, anyway. I still don’t fully know.”

He kisses the inside of my wrist and looks up at me from under his annoyingly long eyelashes, making the butterflies in my belly start fluttering again. “Good thing you have me, then, eh?” His grin is frustratingly handsome. I swear, every time he smiles, it just transforms his entire face. “I’ll keep you in line over here, make sure you don’t run this place into the ground.”

I scoff, shoving him in the chest as he laughs. “I’ll have you know that I read every single document the lawyers gave me.” I look down my nose at him, holding back my own smile. “My roommate even made me flash cards so that I could memorize certain things.”

He softly touches my face and then cups either side, his eyes bouncing back and forth between my own. “I have not a single shred of doubt, Florence Donahue, that you will be amazing in this new phase of your life.”

It’s so sincere and said in such an intimate way that I have to swallow at the sudden pain in my throat and blink back the tears that start to form. I can’t remember the last time someone so wholeheartedly believed in me. And to know it’s someone who has only known me for a few days makes a pretty big impact.

I lean into him, kissing him roughly on the lips before whispering, “Thank you, Briggs.”

He just smiles and captures my mouth again.

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