Page 136 of Meet Me in the Valley
Okay, so I know where my shirt is. But she doesn’t have to know that.
Tia’s curled up in her room, my Christmas present sitting between her legs, waiting to be opened.
I’ve got the one she sent me sitting under my sad excuse of a Christmas tree. I had too many loose ends to tie up here to make it back to Oakwood Valley for the holidays, so festive wasn’t really in the cards. The tiny plastic tree I picked up from a convenience store for twenty bucks will have to do. I even stuck a little star on top so it wouldn’t look completely pathetic.
Tia giggles on the screen, her long black hair cascading over her shoulders in soft waves. God, I want to run my fingers through it again. And I will.
Soon.
“Okay, you go first,” she beams, clapping her hands together like a kid on Christmas morning.
Her excitement always does something to me. Butterflies, knots, full-body tingles—every damn kind of flutter you can imagine. She hits them all.
I kneel in front of my phone and reach for the flat gift wrapped in snowflake paper and topped with a bright sky-blue bow. A sticker in the corner catches my eye. I can’t help bursting out laughing when I read it.
To: My favorite sexy asshole
Love: Your favorite sexy minx
“You most definitely are my favorite sexy minx,” I say, smirking. “Though … you’re also wearing way too many layers right now.” I’m half teasing. But also, definitely not.
Every time we video call, the need for her sharpens. Builds low and slow. The calls have never crossed that line. But the charged, heated stares and the way she steals the breath from my lungs every time her face lights up on my screen?
Yeah. It’s getting pretty fucking hard to hold back.
I haven’t touched myself since Vegas. Call it sexual penance for the shit I put her through. The guilt. The hurt. The emotional whiplash.
But it’s more than that. I know without question that the next time I let go, it’s going to be with Tia.
And it sure as fuck won’t be through the phone.
My minx has that cunning glint in her eye—one I haven’t seen in way too long. She nibbles on her bottom lip, all coy and innocent, but I know better. She’s a deviant little devil with something wicked up her sleeve.
My breathing stutters when I see her arms cross at the hem of her sweater.
Oh, hell.
“I suppose you can have part one of your present since you’ve been a good boy this year.”
Good boy?Not even close.Checked Santa’s list myself. I’m circled in red at the very top of the naughty column. But the moment Tia slowly peels her sweater over her head, revealing a cranberry red lace bra that hugs her perfectly, her name slots right under mine. Bolded. Italicized. Starred.
Naughty, naughty minx.
“Fuck,” I groan, tossing my head back in sheer agony. “I’m dying here, baby.”
The word slips out without thought—baby—and it hits like a sucker punch to the chest. I haven’t called her that in a long time, but it rolls off my tongue like it never left. And the way she reacts? Worth every syllable.
Her eyes sparkle brighter than Christmas lights in the room behind her. I watch with rapt attention as her chest heaves with the tension brewing between us.
“Is that a matching set?” I rasp, clenching my fists in my lap just to avoid palming the erection straining against my pants.
“Mhmm. Sure is,” Tia drawls, fingers flirting with the waistband of her jeans like she’s seriously considering making my head explode.
“Show me.”
But Tia only smirks. “Open your gift first.”
I groan again, but I do as I’m told because it’s her, and I’ve never been able to tell her no.
