Page 41 of Their Christmas Miracle

Josh

Iroll off Holly — I don’t want to crush those birdlike bones of hers — and slide my hand under her neck.

She lifts her knees, rocking side to side on the bed as her eyes slide closed. Her hand glides over my pecs and cups the side of my face.

Smiling, she turns to me. Her legs bump against mine. For a moment we just stare at each other, both of us still out of breath and shimmering with almost-sweat.

“Round two?” she asks.

I laugh. “In an hour, maybe.”

She pouts at me, and I squeeze her thigh.

“Thirty minutes?” I say, cringing in expectation of a reply.

She shrugs, glancing away as she swipes the back of her hand over her face. Her elfin hair clings damply to her face and neck.

“So you really didn’t have plans for Christmas?”

Shit, I’d forgotten she’d been in earshot when I’d admitted that to Mr. Hill.

I blink.

“I didn’t, no.” My voice is still thick with post-coital tension. I clear my throat, and trail my fingers between her breasts, lingering over her bellybutton and then teasing the cerulean curls above her clit. I dip my head, pressing my lips to her ears. “But I’ve decided I’m going to sleep in.”

“In what?”

“In you.”

She giggles then, and it’s probably the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard. Okay, it could be that post-coital bliss thing. But hey, I’m trying to live in the moment, remember? And somehow I’ve managed to trap an elf in my bed.

Well I’ll be damned. Guess I’m having a Holly jolly Christmas after all.

The End

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