Page 67 of Santa of the Creek
“I think seeing us together would have been hard for them. A sign I’d moved on, while Marty never can.”
“They can’t expect you to stay single forever.”
He gives me a wry smile. “Grief is not logical, sweetheart.”
“Understood.” But I hold him closer. “You can grieve and still be with another man.”
He sighs, a warm gust over my skin. “I’ve done my grieving. And my hiding. Now I need to live.”
He didn’t say living with me, and for a second, I’m disappointed, but maybe he didn’t want to presume. I wouldn’t push it. Baby steps.
Chapter Fourteen
22nd December
Dean
“I’m going to miss this suit.” Echo sits on the bed just in black boxer briefs and his socks, stroking the red fabric of the Santa suit with the same intensity he does when he caresses my skin.
I look at him from the doorway of my closet as I contemplate wearing something blessedly normal. I’m in my Captain Marvel briefs and socks. I’m just thrilled I don’t have to wear red again. “You’ve got a suit of your own, Mister Elf.”
“I know. Will said I could keep it. But it’s not like this one.”
“I don’t see why you like it so much. You spent most of the time trying to get me out of it.”
He gives me a heated look. “Exactly.”
I realize I’ve missed something important and curse myself for being an idiot.
“I could keep it if you like. You could spend all year stripping the suit off me.”
“It wouldn’t be as much fun then.” Echo strokes it again.
As I watch him fondle the fabric, I’m tempted to lay across it and beg him to stroke me instead. I’m sure he’d do it if I asked nicely.
“You know I’m starting to get worried,” I say. “Maybe you prefer the suit to me.”
“We-ll…” he drawls, laughing as I flip him off. “Come here.”
I ignore him for a moment, but Echo coaxes me with his hand, and I take a flying leap onto the bed.
“Oooof!” He sags under my weight. “Santa needs to go on a diet.”
But he doesn’t seem to mind too much as he rolls me under him. I wrap my arms and legs around him and hold him tight. Echo sighs as he buries his face in my neck.
“You smell so good,” he murmurs. “Most men use woodsy colognes, but you always smell like a summer rainfall or an ocean wave.”
My man is poetic. My heart patters again.
“I’m surrounded by trees,” I say, running my hands down his back. “I want something to remind me of the beach.”
Echo nibbles on my earlobe. “I like the way you smell.”
That’s good because I didn’t have any plans to change my aftershave. I thought about that too. Once upon a Dean-was-screwed-up time, I would have changed anything about me just to make a man happy. I think Echo has given me the confidence to be my own man.
“Fuck me,” I whisper, arching my hips in invitation.
‘I’ve got to go to work soon.”
