Page 66 of The Mistletoe Trap
“Yes?”
Did he miss something? Why was she responding like they were in the middle of a conversation? “Sorry. Yes, what?”
“You said ‘that was’ and then never finished.” A hint of worry crept into her expression, and that wouldn’t do.
“Fucking incredible. Enough so that I forgot I was in the middle of my sentence.”
A soft smile touched her lips, magnifying the sated glint in her eyes. “I’ve always enjoyed sex, but I’ve also had to work at getting there, usually by trying to guide the guy and then giving up and taking care of myself. But that, with you…talk about exceeding expectations.”
Her words filtered through, causing a maelstrom of outrage at the other men, jealousy there’d been any, and pride.
“Seriously, that was phenomenal.” Julie skimmed a fingertip down his nose, across his lips, and then she drew the shape of a heart over the spot where his throbbed in his chest. “I feel as though I’ve been settling for greasy, instant-regret fast food when prime rib exists.”
“No settling allowed. You and I are prime rib and top-shelf whiskey.” He coasted his hand around to her backside to settle on one of her ass cheeks. “Not that you could reach the top shelf.”
“Well, that’s why I have you.” She patted his chest, and pure liquid sunshine spread through him, lulling him to close his heavy eyelids and recover from the long day and the mind-blowing sex.
Just having Julie here soothed his cares and worries, and instead of fighting against him, the way it’d been doing for days, the bed accepted and became one with him.
At the sudden absence of soft skin, he cracked open an eye. Julie had sat up, the sheets tucked around her breasts, and an aftershock of satisfaction trembled through him at her mussed hair and kiss-swollen lips. “I guess I’d better sneak across the hall to my room.”
“Not a chance,” Gavin said, towing her back to him and cocooning her body with his. He kissed her forehead and let his eyes fall closed again.
“You’re not worried about your family?”
Reality pierced their happy little utopia. He knew she was right to worry; he just didn’t want her to be. He grunted and tightened his grip on her. Since she didn’t say anything, and that wasn’t like Jules, he cracked open the other eye, forcing it to pull its weight.
The blue-eyed angel in his arms grinned at him. “I’ll set an alarm for extra early in the morning so I can sneak to the office.”
“Excellent idea.” Gavin rolled to his other side and scanned the pile of clothes. Like Julie’s appearance, his bedroom showed signs of their steamy hookup session, their clothes and strewn underwear acting as a trail leading the way to debauchery.
He was about to force himself to climb out of bed and sort through it when he spotted Julie’s phone on the desk next to the plate of food. Luckily, his arm span provided just enough length to retrieve it.
“It’s twelve oh-seven,” she said after he handed it to her, excitement dancing through her eyes. “Let me be the first one to wish you a Merry Christmas.”
“Best. Christmas. Ever.” Gavin kissed her three times in rapid succession. “There. Christmas Eve, Christmas, and an extra one to make up for the kiss I won’t get to give you for New Year’s.” He buried his nose in her neck, tickling, nipping, and experiencing an absurd amount of enjoyment over distracting her.
As soon as she’d set an alarm, he took away her phone, tossed it aside, and resumed spooning.
I could get used to this friends-with-benefits thing,he thought before immediately slamming the lid on the notion. Tonight they’d seized the moment, but tomorrow night he’d be headed back to the real world, and Julie would be returning to hers the following week.
Probably for the best, as there wasn’t much of a chance they could continue having sex without their relationship becoming increasingly tricky.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Julie was still half asleep when a noise broke through the pleasant dream she was having, where she and Gavin had sex and it was the best night of her life.
A groan came from the warm body next to her, and she jerked herself awake. That hadn’t been a dream. It’d been as real as the rapping on the door.
“Shit, shit, shit,” Julie whispered as she shook Gavin awake.
“Gavin,” Darlene called through the door, and his eyes flew wide. “I bet you think you’re clever, locking your own mother out of your room so you can sleep in. But you should know by now that nothing delays Christmas morning. Not even this massive hangover your sister saddled me with.”
Julie sat up and glanced around the room, as if it would magically provide an escape—didn’t she deserve a Christmas miracle?
Evidently not.
She and Gavin had an entire conversation with wide eyes and over-the-top hand gestures as he searched the floor. He tossed her thong in her general vicinity, as if it’d be the only clothing she’d need, and then he stepped into boxer briefs.
