Page 137 of Season of Gifts

“Thank you, darling girl.”

Robert offered a hand to his wife.“Give me a moment to get the boys settled.I’ll return shortly to assist with the remainder of the night’s work.”

“Work?”The fire could be banked, and the food still out didn’t need to be in the fridge.“What can we help with?”

A flurry of quiet talk crisscrossed the room.When the blizzard ended, Henry and his brother each carried a sleeping boy upstairs while Alice went with Mom.Jay, with Robert’s keys in hand, fetched four extra suitcases from the back of their SUV and deposited them in front of the tree.

“Thank you, Mr.Kress.”Constance knelt by the tree skirt and arranged gift after gift from Santa.After two empty suitcases, the tree skirt was a fading memory.“Henry has mentioned you with fondness many times these last few holidays, and Robert’s mother simply adores your visits.We’re so pleased to finally meet you.”

“It’s just Jay, really.”He scooped gifts and passed them to her.He couldn’t truthfully say Henry had spoken of her often.“I’m glad to be here.It’s quieter than at my folks’ house, but it was a great day.”Starting with Henry taking an interest in his shower.Had that only been this morning?“How early should we be up for the unwrapping?”His nieces and nephews always started clamoring well before dawn, checking for evidence of Santa.Tonight would be short sleep.“Four?Five?”

Constance laughed.“Robert and Gabriel know better than to disturb the tree before breakfast.Mrs.Webb starts Christmas morning at a civilized hour—around nine, I’d say.”

“Nine?”Those were some well-behaved kids.But damn if he’d turn down extra hours in bed with Henry and Alice.“Nine it is.”

Her husband returned and ferried the empty suitcases out to the car.Jay helped Henry move the desserts to the kitchen and cover the trays.He scouted the music room a final time, but they’d cleared the lot.Not a stray plate or cup or napkin left, just the white glow from the tree and the faded red behind the fireplace screen.Presents spilled out from the tree and along the curve of the piano.Snowy corners frosted the windows.He’d stepped inside a painting of Christmas, more real than real.

Wood glided into the wall with a soft thud, the pocket doors once again open.Switching off the tree lights, he raised his head toward the hallway.“Almost done.”

Henry leaned against the doorframe, his hip cocked, the light from the hall spilling around him.He stretched out his hand, fingers up, tips gently curled.“Come to bed, husband.”

The hypnotic baritone lured him in, the spirit of a Christmas present with no regrets.He slipped his hand into Henry’s.The grip held; the magic was real.“Merry Christmas, husband.”

Chapter seventy-two

Henry

Henry’spajamaslayneatlyfolded atop the blanket chest at the foot of the bed, and there they would stay.Once he shed his clothes, he would have no need for anything beyond skin, his own thrumming with vibrant heat as he circled his thumb in Jay’s palm.Such a small touch, but awash in richness and intensity.He pressed into long strokes, and Jay curled his fingers in reflexive response, his body answering unspoken commands.

Jay caught his breath, his trembling hiss of desire tickling Henry’s nerves.“Henry?Do you want—”

“You.”Low, throaty, he left no doubt as to his intent.He’d given this need hours to develop, a slow rise building since their morning shower.For weeks he’d sealed himself off from his senses, from the emotions that accompanied so much openness, and lived entirely in the mind, consumed by daily logistics.Not today.“You and our lovely wife.”

Alice emerged from the bathroom, her timing impeccable despite the lack of collaboration on his part.

He’d planned nothing today, resisted thinking ahead, and given himself over to the wants of the body.He’d eaten as the mood took him.Inhaled the sweetness of the oak and cherry burning brightly in the fireplace.Sipped the mulled spices in the cider, the warmth of cardamom and nutmeg on his tongue as his fingers drifted across the tight knit of the soft alpaca fiber of Alice’s sweater.Brushed the thick nap of the settee seat in both directions, rough and smooth.Listened to the eddies and swells of voices, participating only minimally, hoarding the joy in his heart as Alice and Jay grew confident steering the conversation.They mined for gems, scattering the small talk and prizing out true beauties that delighted Mother.She’d insisted they not discuss care arrangements today, and she’d been right to do so.

More happiness than the room could hold poured into him, flooding him with a contentment and ease he’d forgotten.His closest friends called him a sensualist, a hedonist, Kierkegaard’s despair—the artist glorying in aesthetic bliss.Today he’d gorged those impulses on sensory experience.Now his cock pulsed and strained against its confinement for no more than the clasp of his husband’s hand in his and the sight of his wife readying for bed, her hair framing her face in waves, her body bare but for a pair of red silk underwear he’d gifted her.

He kissed Jay with purpose, cradling his cheeks, scraping his fingers across Jay’s neck, claiming with lips and tongue.Rocking his hips forward, he met Jay’s rising interest.A tenor whimper signaled he’d made clear his desire.Drawing back, he studied dazed brown eyes with a growling satisfaction burning through his chest.“Ready yourself for bed, husband.”

Jay dashed past Alice and into the bathroom.Their wife sauntered forward, the curl of her mouth an invitation.“Good day?”

He stretched his arm out slowly, giving her ample time to shy away.But as he tweaked her nipple between finger and thumb, teasing out the tip, creating a web of ridges to excite his senses, she stood her ground.He pinched gently.“Christmas has only just begun.I thought we might share a gift.”

Her eyes sparked; she breathed through parted lips.“Are you taking what you want, or are you fulfilling an obligation you think you have?”

A fair question, and a proper one to ask.She’d learned an astonishing amount about the ethical application of power in the last year.Knowledge and confidence could be aphrodisiacs like no other.

“Because it’s okay if you need more time—”

“I am reminding myself”—he clasped her ribs and followed the curve to the flare of her hips—“that I am more than a tangled skein of worries and obligations.”His fingers dipped below the edge of her panties, skirting the cleft of her ass, as she permitted him to reel her into an embrace.“I am a body of appetites and sensations, and those too deserve attention.”

“Yes they do.”Alice rubbed herself against him, rolling into his grasp and trapping his cock between them.“It’s a good night to remember that.”She pressed her lips to the corners of his mouth, goading him for a kiss.“Merry Christmas, Henry.”

“Merry Christmas, Alice.”He took her offer and tasted mint, crisp and fresh, on her tongue.Threading his fingers through her hair, he released the scent of woodsmoke from the fire Jay had built for their cozy Christmas Eve.His first Christmas Eve with his family entire, the sweet faces he dearly loved gathered around as he led them through story to slumber.

A faint caress skated past his hip.Alice rucked up his sweater and the button-down beneath it, sending searching, grasping fingers around his waist and sliding her arms up his back.Fiery embers trailed where she touched, his nerves alight and eager for more.

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