Page 126 of The Crush of Christmas Past
We stay wrapped in each other, trading three little words, quiet breaths, and kisses that leave no room for doubt.
When we come up for air, my eyes are glassy and my voice is hoarse.
“Ready for your final present?”
Theo sweeps my bangs from my forehead. “I can’t imagine how anything could top the first two. Homeandheart.”
“This one leans more toward sin than sentiment.” Reaching over, I drag the last box over so it’s positioned directly next to us.
“I recognize this design.” His fingertips glide over the raised edge of the brand’s logo, tracing the embossed lettering. “Stunning.”
“It’s a prototype.” Pride threads through my voice as I examine my work. It’s my first freelance project through NXT, and I’m thrilled with how it turned out.
Black velvet. Metallic embossing. Gold foil interior. Decadent by design, it’s luxury packaging for a lingerie house that deals in seduction. The kind of box that gets repurposed. Remembered.
“The company let every team member who worked on the campaign choose a custom piece as a little thank-you token. Key word—little. The fabric is practically imaginary.”
“Is that so?” Theo tears off the lid with keen enthusiasm. “Huh.” He frowns. “Empty.”
I smirk. “Exactly.”
It takes all of two seconds for his gaze to darken in understanding. “Show me.”
“Don’t be lazy,” I taunt. “Unwrap your own present.”
His fingers flex at my waist. “Keep running that mouth, Sunshine. Let’s see how smug you sound when you’re begging me to let you come.”
That’s the only warning I get before he hauls me upright, positioning me in front of him like a gift he’s seconds from tearing into.
I open my mouth to tell him I’ve got no regrets—only a wicked thrill racing through my bloodstream—but his hands are on me, stripping my shirt away, dissolving my words the heat of his touch.
“Fuck, Isla.” The way his tongue caresses my name tells me he’s tasting the very thought of me. “You trying to end me?”
He drinks in the crimson bra I picked with his destruction in mind. Featuring a network of lacy cutouts playing a shameless game of peekaboo with bare skin, the thing is so sheer it might as well be painted on. My nipples help add to the effect, launching into a Pavlovian response to the hunger in his stare.
“Lingerie like this should come with a warning label,” he growls. “It sparks too many filthy ideas. All of them ending with the product in tatters.”
“I think that’s the whole point,” I say, pressing my arms together to showcase the goods. “Then you have to buy more.”
Theo groans. “I’m gonna need to call a department meeting on Monday.”
“To discuss my tits?”
“To review the ad copy.” His palm skims my ribs, drawing out a shiver. “Make sure we’re not liable for advertising nonexistent fabric.”
“You’re such a workaholic.” I dodge out of reach with a smug grin. “Can’t even get turned on without talking shop?”
Theo tugs on the bra straps. “Get back here. Let me perform some hands-on market research. My company’s reputation is at stake.”
He leans in and presses his mouth to the swell of my breast. The friction of lace against flesh, combined with the pressure of his tongue, makes my core clench and my head spin. When he starts sucking my nipple in slow, possessive pulls, I’m pretty sure I’m about to faint. The other gets claimed by greedy fingers that squeeze, roll, and pinch until I’m reduced entirely to sensation.
“Creative design,” he murmurs, trailing a path of kisses to my sternum. “Maximum visual impact. Solid support.” He tests that theory with both hands. “Perfectly abysmal coverage.”
In one quick flick, he undoes the front clasp. The cups fall open, and the garment starts to slip down my arms. Theo helps it the rest of the way, mouth never leaving my skin.
“Market penetration looks promising?” I pant the words into his hair, swaying on my feet.
“We’ll see. Need to conduct a detailed analysis.” His hands dip beneath the waistband of my sweatpants. Hooking his fingers, he tugs them down in one smooth motion, exposing the whisper of fabric that’s less underwear and more sexual warfare.
