Page 100 of The Thief Who Saved Christmas

“I want you to.”

He needs to change out of his Santa things, so he walks upstairs with me and kisses me once more before I enter my room.

True to his word, he makes us spaghetti. He also prepares a special dinner for Saint Nick, which smells atrocious but is devoured in such large and eager gulps it must be delicious to him. I’m so enraptured by Ryan that I do something truly brave.

After we’re done eating, I get down on my knees and unfasten the button on his jeans.

His eyes are full of warmth as he watches me. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I know,” I say, my pulse hammering. There’s a voice in my head telling me that I don’t know what to do and it won’t be pleasurable for him, but it’s overpowered by my need to show him how much he’s starting to mean to me. “I want to make you feel good. Help me make you feel good.”

He runs his hands over my hair. “You already do that, sweetheart.”

I unzip his jeans and take him out. Then, after looking up at him to reassure myself I’m doing it right, I wrap my mouth around him and suck.

If it’s not very good for him, I certainly can’t tell, because he moans and buries his hand in my hair and tells me that I’m definitely not on the naughty list, because I’m averygood girl. Honestly, I feel like it.

The next morning,I wake up early, feeling refreshed. I get up, leaving Ryan on my bed with Saint Nick. My heart feels like it’s made of sweet chocolate when I look at them. Ryan seems so innocent when he’s asleep, his hair in soft curls and his lips slightly parted, his legs curled beneath him. I’m humming as I walk down the steps, and I allow myself to skip into the kitchen.

It’s only when I see Cynthia, her hair restored to its usual brown—albeit a couple of shades lighter—and tucked prettily into her costume’s bonnet, that I remember I never texted her last night.

Remorse floods me. I forgot to text Cynthia about her trip to Richmond. How could I have forgotten? A good friend would certainly have texted, perhaps several times.

“Oh dear,” I say as she turns toward me. “Your hair looks fantastic, but I forgot to check in with you. I feel like a horrible friend.”

She lifts her eyebrows. “I didn’t text you either. Did Ryan get the job?”

“He did,” I say, “and there are some other developments I should tell you about, but I’m not going to be able to focus on anything else until you tell me what happened with Jeremy.”

A satisfied smile stretches across her face. “Good, because I was going to talk about him anyway.” She lifts her hands to one of her curls and tugs on it as she says, “He took me out to dinner, and he told me that I drive him crazy.”

“I hope that’s not the only thing he said.”

“The good kind of crazy,” she says smugly. “He said I’m all he can think about lately, and he showed me his Instagram inbox. There are, no shit, like five hundred messages in there from super-hot women, and he didn’t answer any of them.”

“I didn’t think he had,” I say, feeling a swell of fondness for Jeremy. “And what happened next?”

Her eyes glimmer, and she glances furtively behind me before continuing. “We stayed at a hotel halfway between Richmond and Williamsburg.”

“You did?” I gasp.

“We did. And I figured the least I could do after he helped me with my hair and bought me dinner was to suck his dick.”

“You did that too?” I ask, my mouth agape.

“You also sucked Jeremy’s dick?” She’s obviously teasing me, and I find myself laughing even as heat floods my face.

“You know what I mean.”

“I do, and I’m delighted.” Laughing, she pulls me into a hug. “I hope Ryan’s enough of a gentleman to reciprocate.”

“Oh, he already did that,” I say.

Can a person’s cheeks actually catch on fire?

“Oh my God, Anabelle. I can’t believe it. Look at us.” She squeezes me harder before releasing me. “Jeremy wants to try this with me. We’re together. I still have two dead-end jobs, no offense, but I’m so happy. I didn’t know I could be this happy. And it’s all because of you and Ryan. I’m glad you’re giving him a chance.”

“I didn’t do anything,” I protest, surprised.

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