Now we were three shirtless men in red Santa pants that hung low on our hips, matching Santa hats perched at rakish angles, and the ski masks that added an air of dangerous mystery to our holiday ensemble.
"Ready?" I asked quietly, my own gift box warm in my palm.
"Ready," Connor confirmed, his voice slightly muffled.
"Time to give our girls their warm-up gifts,” Jax added with that confident energy I could practically feel radiating off him.
We stepped into the living room in perfect formation, three figures emerging from the shadows like festive phantoms.
Our bare chests gleamed in the firelight, tattoos shifting with the shadows. The red velvet pants clung to our hips, while our Santa hats swayed slightly with each confident step.
But it was the ski masks that completed the look—black fabric that transformed us from boyfriends into mysterious, sexy Santas with questionable intentions.
The girls looked up from their movie marathon, and I watched their expressions shift through a delicious spectrum of emotions.
Curiosity melted into recognition, which bloomed into delighted shock, before settling into that particular hungry appreciation that made our blood sing.
"Oh my god," Sierra breathed, her blanket slipping from their shoulders as she sat up straighter. "You didn't."
"Are you kidding me right now?" Estelle added, her eyes dancing between laughter and pure appreciation as she took in our ridiculous yet effective costumes.
Isla’s mouth fell open in surprise before curving into a grin that could have powered the entire cabin. "You three are absolutely insane."
"Insanely sexy," I corrected with a wink, noting how their eyes immediately zeroed in on the wrapped boxes we carried.
"Wait, are those...?" Estelle started, pointing at the gifts.
"Presents!" Sierra squealed, bouncing slightly on the couch. "You brought us presents!"
“Can we open them?” Isla asked, her voice breathy with excitement as her gaze flickered between my face, my abs, and the mysterious box in my hands.
"Patience, angel," I said, stepping forward to place the gift in her trembling fingers. "All will be revealed."
Connor and Jax distributed their own boxes, and I could practically feel the anticipation of all three girls as they examined the elegant wrapping.
"On three?" Sierra suggested, already staring at her ribbon with barely contained excitement.
"One," Estelle counted, her own fingers fumbling with the crimson satin.
"Two," Isla whispered, her eyes locked on mine with trust and wonder.
"Three!"
The paper fell away in unison, revealing identical jersey-style shirts in soft, comfortable fabric. But it wasn't until they held them up that the true surprise became clear—each jersey bore our ring names across the back in bold white lettering.
But below… had our last names in smaller writing.
Sierra's was black and read“KILLER - Graves.”Estelle's was gold and read“LION - Easton.”
And Isla's...
“CATALYST…”
“Hills,”she whispered, her voice breaking slightly as she held up the blue jersey with shaking hands. "Adrian, it says Hills."
The tears that had been threatening finally spilled over, tracking down her cheeks as she pressed the jersey to her chest like it was made of precious silk rather than soft cotton.
"Because that's who I am now," I murmured, pulling off my ski maskso she could see the raw emotion on my face. "I'm not the broken kid with no real name. I'm Adrian Hills, and I belong to you just as much as you belong to me."
