Page 52 of His Until Christmas

His mouth finds the shell of my ear as I fumble keying in the alarm code, and it will be his fault if police cars scream down this street at any minute. I have to thinksohard to type in numbers I usually enter with no problem. His breath is as warm and distracting now as the first time he found these nerve endings. Now he does it all over again with one thick arm banding my chest, right here where Heligans watch from portraits and where I never expected to turn in a boss’s arms to kiss him stupid.

I don’t have mistletoe as an excuse, neither real nor painted. All I have is Reece, who shielded me on the Tube here as I scrolled through everything he shared with me.

So many texts spelled good things for us. None of them spelled danger, which is impossible to feel when his lips are this soft, even if his teeth are sharp when they find my earlobe again.

I love that graze and sting when it’s from him. Love his breath there so much that my vision shimmers like I’m underwater. Breathing isn’t easy when his arms tighten, but that’s okay. I’m not scared of drowning here on dry land. I’monly scared something will interrupt the bumping progress we make along the hallway, which only stops when I fight with his coat buttons.

As soon as it’s off, Reece crowds me, and I love it, even if it makes my fingers clumsy with my own buttons. I finally get them all unfastened and roar again in triumph.

“Yes!”

Reece laughs, and I love to hear it. I also love how he rumbles, “Upstairs, yeah?”

Past me might have backed off and made excuses. Present me takes off running, and Reece chases.

I almost break my neck on the first flight of steps.

Nearly concuss myself next by tripping.

That’s what comes from trying to undress, head upstairs,andkiss. My tie tries to choke me next. Reece won’t let it. It loosens, then flies, but that’s okay. I fly too along the upstairs landing, multitasking by shrugging out of my suit jacket and kicking off my shoes and trousers.

We still haven’t made it to the bedroom when Reece grabs my wrist to stop my progress. He kneels, his face pressed to the cotton jersey of my boxers. His staggering inhale is another reminder that we’re in this together, both of us affected enough to not care that we’re seminaked during a workday.

Reece mouths where I’ve been half-hard for what feels like forever, inhaling deeply again, then he sits back on his heels to trace the outline of my erection like we’ve got all the time in the world. He’s so unhurried. So intent.

On me.

I’ve never been more into someone paying me this much close attention. He touches where anticipation dampens my boxers, his tongue finds that translucent circle, and I almost buckle. For a second time, I’m braced by a thick forearm dustedwith gold hairs that glint when the last of the afternoon light finds him, and he looks up.

He must also find a door handle. The one to his bedroom swings inward behind me, and I’ll have to revise what I thought about Reece and danger—he lurches up and so do I, tipped over his shoulder.

The world shifts like it does so often when I’m with him, and I can’t hold in this cackle, which only cuts off after he’s crossed the bedroom to dump me flat on my back on his mattress. Playfulness is usually his skill set. This is something different. His voice is rough, his palm over my dick possessive, and something melts at my core to hear and see him like this.

About me.

It’s another place where we meet in the middle—I’m just as territorial when his phone buzzes in a reminder that I’m down to my underwear and he isn’t. I kneel up in a hurry and get busy. Not by taking his call for him. We both ignore it as I get his clothes off, stripping him and then wriggling out of the last of my own until we’re equally naked.

He kneels on the bed to face me, his palms skimming my sides, my chest, my arse, which I like. What’s even better is how low his voice drops. “What do you want, Jack?”

“You.”

It’s been that simple since my first Christmas in London, and I don’t see that changing.

He doesn’t seem in a hurry to let me go either—Reece gathers me close, doing the same with our cocks with one big, warm hand, and that’s a new sensation.

“Good?” he asks, and I have to kiss him. It’s his turn to let out a surprised sound when I break off and push him. He falls back, then groans when I take a turn at crowding him exactly where I want him, which is underneath me.

I ring my fingers around both of us, like he did. That’s a handful and a half, but I’ve always liked a challenge, and this feeling of us together?

It’s everything.

I lean down to kiss him, then slide my hold up our combined lengths and can’t help groaning. Slipping my fist all the way down to where our pubes mesh means he joins in with getting noisy. Reece groans even harder when I kiss him again, and I didn’t expect him to suck on my tongue or how that only ramps up this hotness between us. It’s another new sensation flaming through me despite the room being on the cool side, which he must notice.

He finds my nipples, and pinches, and that’s another Reece-only feeling I’m not ready to say goodbye to, another connection I don’t want to stop now we started, only I don’t know how to verbalise any of that. My cock answers for me—we’re suddenly slicker, and I’m the reason.

My fist around us slides faster until he rolls us over. Reece is on top now, no hands between us, just his body weight keeping me where he wants me, and I’ve never been happier to have someone else make my decisions.

He ducks under the sheet, which I lift to see him kiss his way down my chest and my belly, then he sucks me, and that tears another new sound from me, because he doesn’t only have my dick in his mouth. The pad of a finger circles where he touched me our first time together, and it’s still a lot to process.

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