Page 31 of The Santa Rules
“Did I just make you come in your pants?” she asks incredulously.
I tug on my neck. “I can’t believe my answer to that is yes.”
“Why? That’s hot as fuck. Thinking about you all horned up for me, wanting me so bad, but all you can do is rub up on me till you paint the inside of your pants. Fuck, I like that more than I should.”
I bark out a laugh. The shit that comes out of this woman’s mouth is never what I expect, and yet it always excites me.
“Though it’s worth pointing out that you still haven’t done a proper comparison of the ladies yet,” she says with a cheeky grin.
“I figured I’d seen Lefty, so Righty needed a little love. But I’d love to give them both a proper greeting when there are no children in the house.” Did I just refer to her boobs with the ridiculous names she uses for them? I’m so fucked.
An hour later, I’m cleaned up, the ornaments are made, and we’re gathered around the tree hanging them with a bossy Avery guiding our every move.
“No, Daddy, that one doesn’t go there.” She puts her hands on her hips.
Isaac leans down. “Want a boost, Butterfly? Or are you gonna flutter up there and put it on yourself?”
She nods, and he picks her up, setting her on his shoulders as I hand her the ornament, and she places it on the tree.
“That’s perfect. But where’s the topper, Daddy?”
I look at Bella in a panic. “It’s probably still in the attic.”
“Not to worry, I brought options. Since it’s a new tree, you need a new topper. Are you an angel girly or a star girly?”
“Which one has more glitter?” Avery asks.
“Ooh, good call, let’s go with the star.” She returns a second later with a gold star covered in glitter and hands it to Avery.
Still on Isaac’s shoulders, she places the star on the tree. The four of us stand back to admire our handiwork, and I’ve gotta admit, it’s a fucking awesome tree.
Isaac sets Avery down as I start grabbing empty ornament boxes to shove back in the attic.
“Avery, Isaac, can you two go clean up the supplies on the kitchen table?” Bella asks.
They go easily to the kitchen, and we stare at each other dumbfounded.
“What just happened?” she asks.
“I have no idea. She always whines about cleaning up.”
“Isaac too.”
Our eyes meet, and a subtle pink blush creeps into her cheeks. “Thank you for indulging me today,” she says, and I smile at the innuendo in her words. “I know it sounds crazy to be putting a tree up before you’ve even had turkey, but we have a long list of tasks to accomplish and not enough time to do it in.”
“I had fun,” I say, raising an eyebrow, wanting to make sure she knows I mean our time in the kitchen was fun too.
“We’ll get out of your hair,” she says, swinging her arms nervously. Does she regret what we did earlier?
“I thought we established that I really fucking like it when you have your hands in my hair.”
“That’s right. Hair pulling is your kink.” She takes a step closer to me, our bodies inches apart, yet she feels unreachable since a kid could walk back in at any moment.
“The next thing on our list better come with a babysitter.”
“Why’s that?” she says with a smirk.
“Because I intend to figure out your kink. You know, so we’re even.”
