Page 121 of Perfect Alpha

Since this is Aidan’s first Christmas without his mom, Victory and I are doing everything we can to make it special and not a great big fallacy.

“I want bacon,” I announce.

Victory giggles and snuggles closer to me in our bed, making me sigh contentedly. “My dad always makes bacon on Christmas morning. We can head over there after we open presents.”

“Let’s just move in with them instead of getting our own place,” I joke.

Victory groans. “No way. I’d revert to a sullen teenager.”

“I don’t remember you being that way,” I muse.

“That’s because you never made eye contact with me,” Victory reminds me.

“Oh, right.” I snap my fingers and give her a wink. “That.”

“But now you can’t look away.” To prove her point, she rises from the bed completely naked, making me hiss through my teeth.

“Get back here.”

“It’s Christmas,” Victory scolds. “We have to get ready to make a big hoopla for Aidan.”

Watching her get dressed is a torturous reverse striptease, her glorious skin slowly being taken away. Yawning and casually stretching, I get up, too. When Victory catches sight of my morning wood, her jaw goes slack.

“Well, maybe we have afewminutes,” she concedes, closing the distance between us.

“Victory,” I scold. “It’s Christmas. We have to–” She cuts me off with a kiss, and I can’t resist pulling her close and sliding my hands down the familiar curves of her body. “I love you.”

She kisses my upper lip and then bites the lower one. “I love you, too.”

A shrill scream pierces the air. “It’s CHRISTMAS!”

“Fuck,” I say, but can’t hide my smile.

“SANTA! SANTA! SANTA WASHERE!”

“You can unwrap me later,” Victory promises. “I’ll go get Aidan.”

Dressing quickly, I hurry downstairs and pour two cups of coffee, thanking the heavens that I remembered to set the timer. That should earn me some bonus points for later.

Aidan is squirming impatiently in Victory’s arms, his little feet kicking as though he can make a beeline for the tree in midair.

She sets him down and he runs to the presents, which we went overboard on. Call it guilt over Hannah, fear of losing Aidan and having this be our last Christmas as a family, or just plain old love, but the presents are piled halfway up the tree.

Passing Victory a cup of coffee before she sits on the couch, she inhales it like a drug and lets out a loud moan that sets my nerves on edge. “I love you. I told you that, right?”

“I never get tired of hearing it, angel.”

Aidan is bouncing like a jack-in-the-box, but he knows the rules. Hannah took Christmas very seriously, and opening gifts took all morning under her militant guidance.

Tears fill my eyes and, reading me effortlessly, Victory wraps her arms around my waist and rests her head on my abs, the intoxicating scent of her overwhelming my senses.

Everything about her is perfection, and I was in love from my first taste. I’m about to tell her so when Aidan’s peal of laughter pops our private bubble.

“A bike!” he cheers. “Santa got mebike. Look! Uncle Cade! Auntie Victory! Me ride bike!”

“Aidan,” I scold half-heartedly, while unsuccessfully trying to hide a smile. “You aren’t supposed to open any gifts until I have the camera rolling, and then we all have to take turns. You know the drill, buddy.”

“Medidn’t,” Aidan insists. “Bike no wrap.”

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