Page 41 of Puck of the Irish

I laugh. “You sound like a five-year-old, you know that right?” He grins at me.

“You can open yours too if you want. Come onnn,” he whines and I can’t help but smile. I’ve been doing a lot of that this last week. It’s crazy that to think that it’s only been a handful of days since Hattie was almost kidnapped and God knows what else, since Shep was shot, and since my entire life shifted in front of my eyes once again. It’s so cliché to not make these choices or see the truth until I’m presented with a life-altering event, but it is what it is. The important thing is that I see it and Idomake the choice, eventually.

“Ok, ok fine,” I say with a laugh. “We can open them now.”

Since I’m still on the outs with dad and AJ wanted to let Hattie and Shep have family time for Christmas Eve, we decided to spend it together. As friends. Still just friends and nothing more…for now.

He rummages through the boxes under the tree. At least twenty of them have Ollie’s name on them and it warms my heart all over again seeing how much he loves that little girl. He finally pulls out one with ice-skating tacos on it and I grin, wondering where in the hell he found the paper. He hands it over and settles onto the floor in front of the couch beside me. His couches are really comfy, but I’ve become slightly obsessed with lounging on the super plush rug in front of his giant fireplace. Our gazes meet, the twinkling lights from the treemaking his baby blues sparkle, and suddenly, I can’t hold the words back anymore.

“Hey, AJ I…” He quirks a brow, his body tensing when I use the name out loud.

“I’m AJ again?” he asks quietly.Here it goes.

“If you want to be?” He exhales slowly and the moment he waits before answering feels like an eternity. He said he didn’t want me to make any rash decisions, but this isn’t that. I want to tell him everything, to explain how I’m feeling, how I’ve felt from the beginning if I’m being completely honest with myself, but I’m going to let him decide. If he isn’t ready—or, worse, doesn’t evenwantthis anymore—then that’s ok too. I’ll live with whatever he decides and we’ll be fine.

“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more, Nat.” I sigh in relief, a smile curling my lips.

“About that night at your apartment.”

“Nat, you don’t have to?—”

“I do though. I’m sorry I freaked. That was more about me than you and I shouldn’t have said the shit I did.”

“It’s alright. I’d be lying if I said I was completely sure how the fuck to even navigate this. I can’t promise I’ll be a good…boyfriend or whatever,” he says, running his hand through his hair and shrugging the word off like it’s nothing, but I can tell there’s a bit of nervousness there, “but Icanpromise that I’ll try, that I really fucking want to try. I’m not just after sex with you, Nat—though I’ve been thinking about that nonstop since that very first night, don’t ever fucking doubt that.” I huff out a laugh. “There’s just something…” He shakes himself, seeming frustrated or afraid that he’s saying too much. “I just want to try to be more. That’s the only way I know to say it. I want more with you. And I would never, ever cheat on you, Nat. On anyone. I think that’s fucked up and cowardly and that’s not me. If myfeelings ever changed, I would be a man about it and tell you. I would never go behind your back and hurt you like that.”

“I know. I really do. Like I said, that was my own stuff coming out. And I want more too. So…we’ll just take things slow and not put pressure on, deal?”

“Deal,” he says and the absolutely devastatingly perfect smile he gives me breaks my heart a little.

“Ok, ok, back to presents.”

“On three,” he says with a grin, and I nod.

“One…two…” I can’t say I’m surprised when he starts to tear into his box before he reaches three.

“Fucking cheater,” I grumble, rolling my eyes as I start to unwrap my own gift like an actual civilized human instead of a honey badger. He throws the scraps of wrapping paper into the air and I giggle, trying to shield myself from the falling debris.

“I play to win, Nat. You should know this by now….” He trails off when he looks in the box and then busts out laughing. “Oh my God.” He pulls out the gift, still cracking up. “Is this…a mistletoe belt buckle??”

I smile. “It seemed right up your alley.” His eyes spark with amusement, mischief, and a touch of promise, and my stomach twists with a quick, sharp stab of desire. It’s been too long since I’ve touched him, since I’ve had his lips on mine, his hands on my body. He stands and pulls his shirt up, holding the hem beneath his chin so he can fiddle with his belt unobstructed, andfuck me. I swear he didn’t have this many abs the last time I saw him. They’ve multiplied in the last week since he got his tattoo. I barely stop myself from reaching out and running my fingers over those enticing dips and ridges, possibly running my tongue across those criminal fucking indentions beside his hips.

I pull my gaze away and open my own box, huffing out a laugh when I pull the sweater out.

“Santa’s Favorite Ho Ho Ho?” I arch a brow at him and he grins.

“You would definitely be his favorite,” he says with a wink. I laugh and pull it on over my t-shirt, leaning back to show it off. He beams, clearly proud of himself, and I love that we both got each other stupid shit. Just one more way we seem to always be on the same page with things. I’m not saying we agree on everything—in fact, some of our drunken debates about the dumbest stuff are some of my favorite memories—but we just…get each other.Ugh. I sound so fucking corny.

I laugh when he finishes securing the belt buckle in place, the mistle toe hanging just over his crotch. He spreads his arms, showing off his new accessory, and then he arches a sexy, teasing brow at me.

“You know the rules, Nat…”

I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t imagined this exact scenario when I’d bought the damn thing, but I hadn’t been sure if we’d be in this place yet or not. So, I’m all too happy to set my empty box aside and push up to my knees kneeling in front of him. He inhales sharply, like he wasn’t sure if I’d be game or not. I give him a sultry grin and lean forward, tugging up his shirt to kiss his stomach just below his navel. He shudders and I meet his gaze up his body.

“Want this gone,” I whisper, shoving his shirt farther up his torso and planting another kiss on his smooth, taut skin. He quickly yanks it off, so fast I can’t help but chuckle lightly, but then I’m free to explore the perfect parts of him I’ve missed so much. I run my hands over his abs and chest, trailing my fingers over the bottom edge of the cross before he holds my palm against his heart, letting me feel the thundering. I leave it there and run the other one down his side, making him jerk and tremble.

“Fuck, I’ve missed this…” he rasps.

“You have no idea, AJ…” I drag my tongue across that indention, from hip bone to just above his cock, and he groans deep in his throat. He gathers my hair in one of his big hands and holds it out of my face. I love that he loves to watch. I slowly begin to undo his belt after all his hard work and ease his zipper downward, leaning in to kiss along the same path over his boxer-briefs. He’s so hard already, and my heart races in anticipation. I’ve been dreaming about him since our last night together, thinking about him constantly. I’ve missed my lips on him, my tongue, my fingers. I’ve missed the sounds he makes and the way he talks. I’ve missed the way he tastes. I’ve missedeverything.

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