Page 55 of The Sleight Before Christmas

Every. Fucking. Thing.

We’ve spent a lot of time in the last few days sparring, talking, and blistering each other’s lips with kisses, and I can’t fucking get enough. The gnawing in my chest as I watch her tells me I might not ever be able to. The girl is fire. Her eyes, her mouth, and what comes out of it. But she’s got a softness, too. One I don’t think many are privy to. One I fucking hope is reserved just for me. As much of a pain in the ass that I suspected she is—and is turning out to be—so far, I wouldn’t change a thing.

If I had to change anything in this scenario, it would be me.

“Great, you look at her all googly-eyed too,” Whitney huffs, passing me in the hall as Serena remains distracted. “I’ll make sure to let her know.”

“Little shit,” I call after her as she giggles before making her way down the stairs. Serena, who somehow remained oblivious to our interaction, continues to flirt with her reflection. Brushing her hair, straightening her camisole, shaking her perfect ass, applying more gloss, I camp out for all of it. For as long as it takes for her to feel me watching her. Which isn’t too much longer. When she spots me in her mirror, she instantly perks, no shits given about what she’s been busted doing as she glances back.

“Hey,” she greets, stalking over and pressing a kiss directly on my lips. I fold the arms lifting to wrap around me to her sides, widening my eyes.

“What in the hell are you doing?”

“Uh, kissing you, jackass. What are you doing?”

“We’re not doing that in front of your parents,” I exclaim.

“Really? You don’t want them to see anything?”

“No,” I bark.

“Oh, well then, you should probably shut the door,” she says.

“Your mom sent me to get you to the dinner tab—put your fucking shirt back on!” I whisper-yell just as she loses her bra. My cock literally goes from chub to full-on salute as she gives me a pointed look.

“I told you to shut the door, Thatch.”

“Jesus Christ,” I rasp out, quickly shutting the door behind me, chest heaving as I palm it to keep it sealed. My temperamental opposite, she stands utterly unaffected at the foot of her bed. Bare from the waist up, tilting her head, her lips slowly curve up at my reaction.

Shit.

She could never draw this animation from me in the shed. There I’m controlled and in fucking control. Under Allen and Ruby’s roof, I feel utterly helpless. Anger thrumming through me at Serena’s advantage, I entertain rubbing the tip of my cock on her lips until it’s soaked before bottoming out between her exposed tits. We haven’t done anything more than heavy petting, but the sight of her has my mind spinning.

“What if your brother had walked by, Serena?”

“He’s at a friends,” she says.

“Your dad—”

“Never comes up here,” still bare, she starts to stalk toward me, and I

immediately start slapping the air like I’m in a bitch fight before gritting out my order.

“Put a shirt on, now, Serena.”

Full-on laughing at me, she stops and shakes her head. “My God, do they not serve chill at the nunnery? I’m just changing shirts. And by the way, it’s obvious my parents are aware there is something going on between us.”

“It would be a monastery,” I counter, like a complete douche, crossing my arms in an attempt to regain some control. This girl has me bottoming out at least once a day, and not always in a good way.

“Thatch, you don’t like what you see?” She pushes her chest out before raking her lower lip.

“You keep fucking with me like this, and you won’t like what happens.”

She lifts her chin. “Pretty sure I will.”

“Shirt, Serena, now.”

She pulls on her sweater instantly, sans her bra, and I gape at her as she lifts her chin for me to open the door.

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