“Can I change my mind about putting on the sweater?” Nolan teases, his eyes hot and smile wicked.
“Only if you want to be stuck in it for the rest of December, Casanova,” I counter with a raised brow. “Serves you right for not playing along.”
“Sometimes I’m too smart for my own good,” he laments, collapsing against the back of the couch as the others laugh.
Kaleb clears his throat and looks down at the red monstrosity on the floor. “I don’t understand. Why did that work? Did I just need someone else to take it off?”
“No, you couldn’t think about taking it off,” I answer, moving over to Connor since he’ll be the easiest to distract—a positive in the mate bond column. “So I needed to make sure you were thinking about something other than the sweater.”
“I’m not thinking about the sweater anymore,” Donovan leers, his vibrant blue-green eyes trailing down my form. “Well, this one anyway.”
“I should leave you in yours since you’re the worst offender,” I reply, getting on my knees on the couch next to Connor. “Make you appreciate the importance of shirts.”
“Aww, Angel. You wouldn’t want me any other way,” he taunts, relaxing back into his chair to wait for his turn. The sweater still sits halfway up Donovan’s torso—keeping his abs on display, which happens on any day that ends in Y.
Rolling my eyes, I return my focus back to Connor and smile, letting my love for him flow freely through our bond. His eyes widen, and he gets this sweet, goofy look as I easily remove his sweater. I blush, pleased that he seems truly happy at the moment, and pat his stomach when I’m finished, before dropping the sweater to the floor.
“My turn,” Donovan purrs, sounding way too pleased with himself.
Standing from the couch, I cross my arms over my chest and tap my foot. “I don’t know. Youarethe worst offender. Maybe I should put it up to a vote?”
“A vote?” Donovan yelps, shooting forward which causes the tent like garment to drop down the rest of his torso.
“Seems reasonable to me,” Kaleb affirms, amusement coloring his deep voice.
Nolan fishes his phone out of his pocket then takes a picture of Donovan in all of his glaring glory. “Okay, now I’m good. You can take it off or leave him in it. Makes no difference to me.”
“Makes no difference, huh? I’ll be sure to remember that,” Donovan seethes, his hands gripping his knees because he can’t tug on the shirt in any direction but down.
“Sure you will,” Nolan taunts, his thumbs moving fast enough to blur as he types something out on his phone. “You’re practically allergic to clothes.”
“I don’t see you com—” Donovan starts, but I quickly interrupt, stuttering, “F-Fine, fine. I’ll get it off for you.”
“That’s what she said,” Felix mumbles, and the others bust up laughing.
“I hate all of you,” I mutter, my cheeks burning as I stomp my way into the kitchen. They all call after me, encouraging me to come back, but immediately go silent when they see me return with large, sharp scissors. “Because of all that, you don’t get it taken off the fun way.”
“Uh, never mind. I’m good,” Donovan sputters, getting up from his chair to walk backwards, holding his hands up in surrender.
“I’m not going to stab you, come here,” I demand, pointing at the space in front of my feet.
“Oh man, you’re in so much trouble,” Nolan teases, grabbing a cookie from the plate on the coffee table. “Should’ve just worn the sweater.”
“Like you have room to talk,” Donovan grumbles, and walks over to stand in front of me.
Taking the bottom of the sweater into my hands, I make a big show of putting the fabric between the scissors’ blades. However, instead of cutting it off, I look deeply into Donovan’s eyes and state clearly, “Take this ugly Christmas sweater off.”
Donovan’s shoulders sag, and on command, he does as I requested, easily pulling the sweater up over his head. Holding the itchy, green sweater in his hands, he gives me an exasperated look, “You could’ve done that from the beginning?”
“Well, yeah, but I don’t like the idea of casting those kinds of spells on you guys,” I reply, returning to the kitchen to put the scissors away. “It’s one thing for you guys to get stuck in enchanted ugly sweaters. It’s a completely different thing altogether to cast a spell that alters your free will, even if it’s something like this. Honestly, I don’t like the idea of using it at all.”
“I get that,” Nolan murmurs, getting up from his position on the couch to wrap an arm around my shoulders.
I lean into him and sigh, then suggest, “How about we do something not magic related? Anyone up for watchingHow The Grinch Stole Christmas?”
“Think you can stay awake?” Nolan teases, earning an elbow to the side. “Ouch. Damn, you havetheboniest elbows.”
“Because that’s where boneis,” I grumble, making my way over to Felix and tugging him to the floor to sit by me. He only has a couple hours remaining of being solid, and I selfishly want at least some of that time to be with me.
