Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 70323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting until I felt her get situated before I opened them again.
When I did, it was to get an eyeful of her perky nipple that was perilously close to touching my arm.
I prayed for patience as I turned up the volume on the television, hoping that it would hide my slightly labored breathing.
“I don’t even particularly like this one,” she admitted as she snuggled down farther into the covers. “But you know how traditions go. You have to follow them or you’ll have bad juju your whole next year.”
I blinked and turned my head to look at her. “Bad juju your whole year?”
She shrugged. “Superstitious. Better word for you?”
“We don’t have any family traditions,” I said during the next commercial break. “The most we ever did was get a Fraser Fir every year.”
I gestured to the Christmas tree that was in the corner of the room. A Christmas tree that looked pretty damn cool with the room dark as it was, I had to admit.
“You’re going to have to tell me eventually what kind of pull you have that you can get a Christmas tree delivered. A real one at that. In the time that it took me to take a shower and sleep, only a few hours after telling you that I wanted one,” she murmured. “And don’t think I didn’t notice that big box of shit that came for you when you told whoever you were on the phone with that you didn’t have a phone charger. Oh, and a washer and dryer. I’m fairly sure that if I asked, Brielle wouldn’t have that.”
She wouldn’t.
But I didn’t admit that.
Luckily, the movie came back on, and I was allowed a reprieve in answering.
She didn’t forget, though, when the next commercial came on.
“You don’t have anything to say to that?” she asked curiously.
I stiffened slightly.
“My family,” I said, “is very well connected.” I paused, hoping that she wouldn’t be offended by the words that would next come out of my mouth. “But if it’s okay with you, I’d really rather not talk about them. I’m not comfortable talking about them.”
There was a long pause where I waited for her to process those words.
Then, “Okay. But, one day, I hope you feel comfortable sharing about them with me.”
One day, maybe.
One day when I had her and knew she wouldn’t run away when she realized just who my father was.
Yes, maybe one day.
“Maybe,” I agreed. “If I told anyone, yes, it’d definitely be you.”
Because she was one of the first individuals to talk to me that didn’t care about who my family was, what my father did for a living, or what knowing me could gain them.
Having her not knowing? It was something that I would cherish for as long as I could.
We sat there quietly next to each other, both of us watching the show, until the very last scene.
“What’s your favorite Christmas movie?” She paused. “Not counting Die Hard.”
I stretched my arms up high over my head, at the same time stiffening my legs and arching my back, causing my sweatpants to ride just a little bit lower.
When I looked over at her, it was to see that her eyes had drifted to my lower belly.
My dick immediately started to stiffen behind the fabric, and I hastily lifted my leg up to partially conceal my growing erection.
“Um.” I paused. “One came out last year with Anna Kendrick that I liked. I don’t remember what it was called, though. The reindeer was cute.”
“I didn’t see that one,” she murmured, her eyes still on my lower belly. “I’ll have to see if we can find it.”
My cock was getting so hard that it started to lengthen down the side of my pants leg.
There was no way in hell that she could miss it.
I cleared my throat, unsure whether I was trying to get her attention off my dick, or whether it was to get my attention off her attention.
I wasn’t honestly sure.
But when she looked up at me and stared, cheeks aflame, I wished I’d just allowed her to continue staring.
I reached down and readjusted my dick, which then caused her to look there again.
She bit her lip and looked away and gestured at the television.
“What’s next?” she asked, sounding slightly breathless. “I’m not tired.”
I fiddled with the remote and came to another Christmas movie, this one on Hallmark, and said, “I guess this is all there is.”
She grinned wickedly at me. “I have a coffee cup at home that says ‘This Is My Hallmark Watching Coffee Cup.’”
Realizing that she liked this kind of crap, I placed the remote down on my lap and placed my arms behind my head.
The voice on the show went super quiet, and before I could even twitch to make a move toward the remote, Carolina was reaching forward and pressing the volume up button on it.