Chapter Nineteen
With Hunter’s arms wrapped around me, one resting between my breasts like a seat belt, I was content, happy. I smiled to myself, marveling at the current state of my life. When had this happened? When had I become the type of woman to break my rules for a man?
First, it was the sleepovers and now spending Christmas morning together. What was next? A feeling of panic crept in with those thoughts but faded when he slid his erection between my thighs.
“Merry Christmas, baby.” He spoke into my neck, his scruff tickling the delicate skin and making me shiver.
I turned in his arms, loving the feel of his naked skin against mine. His hard against my soft. “Merry Christmas.”
“Do you want to go open presents or…?” He trailed off, but the way he smoothed his hands over my butt, cupping me, I knew exactly what he had in mind.
“Hmm,” I hummed, sliding my hand over his cock. “I think I already have everything I need.”
He lifted his hand to my face, cupping my cheek. “I know the feeling.”
The moment felt so tender, so intimate. It was almost more than I could handle. So, what did I do? What I always did—I turned up the heat, while dialing back on the feelings.
“Later.” I flashed him a wicked grin. “Let’s eat and open presents first. We can spend the rest of the day having an epic fuck fest.”
My voice was sultry, but my heart wasn’t in it. As fun as it sounded, I was just as eager to cuddle on the couch and watch Christmas movies with him as I was to have sex. But of course, I couldn’t just tell him that. I could barely admit to myself how I felt about Hunter, let alone tell him.
He dropped his hand, and I saw something slam shut behind his eyes. Though when he flashed me a smile, I almost believed it was genuine. Too bad I knew better.
Ever since Thanksgiving, there’d been a shift in our relationship. The sex was still amazing, but we’d been spending a lot of time together outside the bedroom too. Shopping for his house. Wrapping Christmas presents together. Eating dinner. Watching movies. Every day, we became more and more like a couple.
Then there was his declaration on Thanksgiving. His promise that I owned everything, including his heart. A part of me had wanted to tell him that he owned me body and soul. But the rational, smart part of me overruled my heart, telling it to shut the hell up.
He threw off the covers and strode across the room, his glorious body on full display. The muscles of his sculpted ass flexing as he walked. The golden hair on his legs, glinting in the morning sun. I couldn’t ever imagine getting tired of the sight.
He pulled on a pair of plaid pajama pants, not bothering to put on a shirt before he slipped into a robe. Damn, he looked good. His toned abs were visible beneath the open robe, the plush terry cloth a stark contrast against his tanned skin. His hair was mussed, and his smile was brilliant.
“What’s that look for?” he asked.
I shook my head, shaking away the feelings that accompanied it. “Nothing.”
I pushed myself out of bed and into his waiting arms. He wrapped me in a robe, his arms cocooning me from behind. For a minute, he just held me, and I let him. It was nice, to be desired, cherished, sated. And I worried I was getting too comfortable with him, too complacent. But since it was Christmas, I decided to push those thoughts out of my mind and just enjoy.
“Come on.” I tugged on his hand, pulling him toward the stairs. “It’s present time!”
“Oh, didn’t you hear?” he asked, intertwining his fingers with mine when we reached the bottom of the stairs. “You’re on the naughty list. No presents for you.”
“Oh well,” I sighed. “Guess we’ll just have to be naughty together, then.”
I stopped short when I spotted a large present under the tree, one I hadn’t seen before. It was rather crudely wrapped and the bow was horrendous, but it made me smile.
Despite my curiosity, I couldn’t wait any longer for him to open his present. After weeks of searching, I’d finally found the perfect gift. And I’d had the hardest time not giving it to him immediately.
“You first,” I said, setting a large box on the coffee table in front of him.
It was heavy, and I smiled as he inspected the box, his expression perplexed. “What on earth is this?”
He peeled at the tape, opening it with painstaking slowness. I didn’t want to diminish his enjoyment, but I would go insane if he didn’t just tear the paper soon. Finally, he slid his fingers beneath the wrapping, removing it with slow, agile motions.
“How come you don’t undress me with such care?” I teased, remembering how he’d ripped a thong off me just last night.
He glanced up at me, his blue eyes questioning. “Do you want me to?”
I lifted a shoulder, trying to play it off. I wanted to let him in. I had let him in—more than any other man. But I was afraid.
