Page 17 of The Christmas Keeper

“Mm, it was left to me by my grandfather. It was his hunting camp. I did some minor renovations and moved in about five years ago and opened the alehouse.”

“It looks like a camp, rustic and all. I like the open beams. What made you decide to open an alehouse?”

“I like beer.”

He chuckled softly. We spent a good hour just sitting in the kitchen as the meager winter sun shone on us, talking about nothing vastly important, feeling each other out in terms of what was discussable and what wasn’t. I veered away from any mention of old boyfriends and Kenan kept his addiction days to himself. After coffee and cake, and with the second load of wash chugging, we went outside so he could meet Fred and Wilma. We took more lettuce.

“Oh wow, they’re big,” he said as we stood on the outside of the small fence, each word steaming in front of us. “Rounder than wild geese. Can they fly?”

“Not really. I mean, they can run and flap, but they’re too heavy for flying like wild geese. They’ve been bred to be meatier,” I whispered behind my hand so they wouldn’t hear. Kenan sniggered. Fred waddled closer, lowered his head, and hissed.

“Ah, okay, that sounds like the wild geese I’ve met,” he commented, then held out some lettuce to the gander. Wilma eyed the lettuce but stayed where she was, in the sun, atop some warm hay, with her head tucked back under her white wing. “Here, buddy, come get some lettuce.” He waved the wilted leaf. Fred stamped to the fence in the classic goose ‘back off, fucker’ position. Kenan leapt back. The lettuce fell into the pen, where Fred gobbled it down. “Damn, okay, so he’s not at all in the holiday feels. Duly noted.”

“To be fair, he’s never in the holiday feels, be it Christmas or the Fourth of July. Fred is my spirit animal.”

“Goose gotta goose.”

“Exactly.”

He stared at me with a winsome little smile as the cold, cold wind tugged at his curls. “You really do love them.”

“They’re cool. Most people dislike geese, but you just have to understand them. These two aren’t lap sitters. They’re not down to be petted. I’m not sure what happened to them before I rescued them off the Kirby pond two years ago, but whatever someone did to them, they’ve not learned to fully trust yet.”

“Mm, so they’re quite a bit like you.”

I blinked, shook my head, and blew out a soft little sigh of resignation. “Maybe,” I confessed with a shrug. “Just one word of advice: don’t go into their pen. They don’t know you well enough and may act out.”

He slid his cold hand into mine, his long rough fingers gripping my hand tightly. “Not everyone is meant to be petted.”

I glanced down at his hand meshed with mine. I squeezed it, then leaned in to kiss him on his beautiful mouth. His lips were warm. His nose was chilly. No words could come out of me that would cover just how much I loved that he got me. I’d never been a gregarious person, not like Nora, and I’d always preferred to be won over slowly, from a distance. Wary. Afterthe breakup with Paulie, my mistrustful nature grew. What it was about this man I’d not yet figured out. He was not pushy or boastful, perhaps. He knew pain, had lived through hell, and had somehow managed to hold on to his gentleness.

“We should go inside now,” I whispered when the kiss ended.

Kenan nodded, his eyes hooded. I led him through the back door, and we kissed again. The washer had spun out, but the dryer was still tumbling. I backed him into the door jamb, hands on his lean hips, and slid my tongue into his mouth. He moaned as his tongue curled around mine.

“I’d like to shower before this maybe goes any further?” he asked tentatively. “Not that I expect anything from you other than the kindness you’ve—”

I pressed my mouth to his softly, then pulled back so I could gaze into his dark eyes. “Going further sounds really good.” My dick was so hard it ached. “But I don’t want you to feel that we have to have sex in any way. You’re still my helper at the pub until you decide it’s time to go south.” Saying that hurt more than I would want to admit. “If we sleep together, it’s because we both want to, nothing more, nothing less. You’re leaving soon and I’m too mean to love.”

He reached up to cup my face. “You are the least mean man I have ever met. Show me to your shower.”

I was more than happy to oblige. My house was all on one floor, so the bathroom was just across from the main bedroom. I had a second bedroom, much smaller, and it pretty much just held shit from the alehouse in a sort of limbo storage since the pub’s basement was packed with kegs.

After I had the light on, I motioned him in, his hand still in mine, and stood there staring at this beautiful man as if I’d lost all sense, which I kind of had. Something had taken root as I’d stepped into the bathroom, with him following behind. Fear. I was scared. The last time I’d felt this strongly about someone,he’d hurt me so badly I’d spent weeks moving around in a dark, dark fog where I worked and then went home to weep. It had been a bad time. Extremely bad. And I’d sworn I would never allow myself to feel those feelings ever again.

“You look terrified,” Kenan whispered. “If you’re not ready, please just say so. I can shower all by myself. I’ve been doing it since I was seven.”

He was trying to make light of the tension threatening to overwhelm us. I floundered for what to say, then decided to just kiss him some more. Let our bodies talk as they were. They certainly knew what to say when we didn’t. We began peeling off clothes as we tasted each other, his hands roaming over my bared back as I cradled his skinny ass with both hands.

My hand left his tight ass for a mere second to crank on the taps. When we had our briefs off, he took hold of our cocks and led us into the shower. I stubbed my toe on the tub as I tried to step in and over yet not lose the magic of his prick resting next to mine.

“Ouch, damn toes hanging on the end of my foot,” I hissed before burrowing my nose into his long throat. His laughter was brief as we stepped under the flow of the water. My hands went back to massaging his glutes, my middle finger teasing the tempting crack of his ass. We melted into the hot water, both of us rutting into his strong grip. My balls tightened up far too soon, and I came embarrassingly fast. Kenan followed, his slim body tensing as he shot all over his hand. I couldn’t get enough of him, his taste, and I licked his shoulder, then back up his neck to his mouth as we rode through our orgasms.

“Good God,” he panted when I finally let the man grab a breath. “That was…”

“Magnificent?”

He chortled gruffly, gave us both a nice long stroke, and then, sadly, released our cocks. I gently spun him to face theshowerhead, my fingers tracing wet paths over his skin, my lips starved for more of his flesh. He leaned into me, head back, eyes closed. I feasted on him until we were both hard again. He spun to face me, slid his fingers into my sodden hair, and licked into my mouth. We rutted against each other, wet wanton hands stroking and caressing, his long, lean cock jabbing at my belly. Hips rolled, fingers delved, and when I blew apart for the second time, his finger was deep inside me just as mine was buried in him.

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