Page 16 of Stuffing His Stocking

I swear this man is trying to kill me.

I give him a brief tour of the house before we head back to the kitchen for a snack. Our conversation is light and easy, and we’re both enjoying our time together. I keep staring at him while he talks, remembering how desperately I wanted to get to know him back when our parents were married. But now that I think about it, I’m glad that I didn’t, because he’s not the same person he was a few years ago. Neither am I, for that matter. He doesn’t feel like a brother to me at all, probably because he never was one. And I secretly hope he sees me as more than just some kid he used to know, because I can’t deny how much I’m attracted to him.

He’s rinsing our plates while I load the dishwasher when a thought occurs to him. “Carol’s volunteering at the hospital today, right?”

“Yep. She’s a baby cuddler in the NICU. She was planning to be here when we arrived, but she picked up an extra shift. She’ll never turn down an opportunity to hold babies.”

He shuts off the water and dries his hands with a pensive expression on his face. “I still can’t figure out how my philandering father managed to marry a sweet woman like your mom.”

“We had a pretty quiet life before she met Bruce. We didn’t have much, but we didn’t need much either,” I admit. “She met him at a party for her boss and he swept her right off her feet. She had no idea about his past and she dismissed whatever rumors she heard as gossip.”

“Maybe she should’ve listened to them.” Dylan scowls when he thinks about his dad.

“Maybe,” I agree while starting the washer. “But my mom is always willing to give people a chance. And Bruce offered her what seemed like a fairy tale. I was skeptical of him and he proved me right. But I do believe he tried to be a better man for her. He just couldn’t stay that way for long.” I frown, remembering how heartbroken my mom was when the marriageended. She felt so foolish, even though she had no reason to feel that way.

“I hate that he hurt her. And I’m sorry you got hurt too.”

“It’s alright. Water under the bridge now.”

Dylan clasps his hand around mine and gently rubs his thumb across my skin. Goose bumps rise to the surface of my arms and I’m glad I’m wearing a sweater to hide the effect he has on me. “I was thinking perhaps we should make dinner, so Carol has a hot meal waiting for her when she gets home.”

“You know how to cook?” I raise an eyebrow at him, as most bachelors I know could burn water.

“I’ve learned how to make a few dishes over the years.” He laughs. “Once Mike realized I ate out most of the time, he started teaching me some things around the kitchen.”

“You have more money than you know what to do with. Why didn’t you just hire a chef?” It’s odd to me that a man so wealthy chooses to live like he isn’t.

“I could have, but I’m tired of that life. I’ve always had someone waiting on me hand and foot, and I thought it was important for me to learn how to take care of myself.” That’s shocking to hear, coming from someone with a bank account the size of his. “Besides, I like this new life. It’s filled with people who genuinely care about me, instead of the type who only hang around for my money.”

“Fair enough.” I nod. “Let’s get started on dinner.” After rummaging through the fridge, I pull out a few ingredients and lay them on the marble-top island. “Looks like we have everything we need for spaghetti and cheesy garlic bread. Sound good?”

Dylan pushes up his sleeves and rubs his palms together. “Now that’s something I can cook.”

I show him where the pots and pans are located, and he moves around the kitchen as if he’s done it a million times.He’s comfortable here, and I like seeing him relaxed. But his muscular body is so big that we keep running into each other.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes with a chuckle when he bumps me with his hip.

I crane my neck so I can look up at him. “You’re fine. You can’t help that you’re a giant.”

“Not my fault you’re a tiny mouse.” He smirks, then reaches out and dabs at my cheek. “You’ve got a little bit of tomato sauce right here.” He wipes it away before licking the sauce from the pad of his thumb. My gaze follows the movement, and my pussy flutters. “Mmm, tastes pretty good.”

My lips part as a shallow breath is forced from my lungs.

The pull I feel toward him is strong, but I’m afraid he doesn’t feel the same way. I’ve fantasized about this man for years, and I’m sure it’s just remnants of the high school crush I had on him. Perhaps it’s because I knew nothing could ever happen between us, despite how badly I wanted it to. But there’s nothing keeping us apart now, not really. So maybe I should quit being such a chicken shit, and for once in my life, go for what I want.

A wave of courage sweeps over me, and I lean into him, slightly rising on the balls of my feet. Dylan stares at me for a long moment before lowering his head and darting his tongue out to wet his lips. My heart races and my pulse beats wildly at the base of my neck. Then he reaches for my waist and slowly tugs me closer. My eyelids begin to lower when the door to the garage bursts open.

“Hey, guys! I’m home!”

As if we’d been struck with a current of electricity, we immediately separate and take a step back from each other. My cheeks are flaming hot while Dylan fights off a wicked grin.

My mother couldn’t possibly have worse timing.

6

DYLAN

My cock has been hard for the last twenty-four hours and it’s really starting to hurt.

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