“Yeah, something like that.”
He cups my cheek, tilting my face up. “Harley, I’ll never be able to get you out of my system. I’ll never be able to look at another Christmas tree and not remember how right everything felt with you.”
“Ah, did I make your Grinchy heart grow two sizes too big?”
“You’ve made it grow ten sizes bigger. I think that’s why I avoided you since you moved here. I was scared of how fast I’dfall for you if I let myself get too close. One night, and I fell fucking hard.”
“That might’ve happened to me too,” I admit.
Tripp flashes me one of those panty-melting smiles, and my knees go instantly weak.
“Are you still scared?” I ask, because I sure as hell am.
“Sure,” he admits. “But scared or not, I’m all in to give this a real go.”
“Really?”
“Our biggest hurdle was Mandi, and apparently, she conspired with Mother Nature to conjure a blizzard and strand us together. So, I think we’re in the clear there.”
“This feels fast,” I admit. “But it feels right, too. It feels like…”
“Love?”
“I was going to say a Christmas miracle. But sure, we can go with love,” I tease.
Tripp presses his lips to mine softly, sensually. It’s a kiss filled with promise of a future. One we’ll build together.
“I love you, Harley. And I’m ready to go back out there and tell everyone how I feel. But only if you’re okay with that.”
“I love you too, Tripp. And I think if wedon’tgo back out there and tell everyone, Mandi might convince Santa to put us on the naughty list.”
Tripp chuckles, pressing a kiss to my temple and threading his fingers through mine. “The naughty list isn’t so bad,” he says, his voice low and seductive enough to make my nipples instantly pebble. “When we get home tonight, I’ll prove it to you. One orgasm at a time.”
Epilogue
One Christmas later…
Harley
“We’re going to be late!”I barely get the words out because my husband’s on his knees in the kitchen again, his head up my dress. My panties are God knows where—probably hanging from a lampshade again. But I don’t really care because his tongue is doing that thing I love so fucking much.
I grip the kitchen counter so hard I’m convinced I’ll crack the quartz.
“Fuck, Tripp.”
His tongue brings me to cloud nine for the third time since the sun came up this morning. It’s a wonder I got any of the presents wrapped for tonight. I cry out his name, rocking against his face as his soft beard tickles my inner thighs.
When Tripp finally comes up for air, there’s cum in his beard and a triumphant grin on his face. He’s also in a Santa suit, so that’s a little confusing. But it’s Christmas Eve. I’m not complaining.
“We better get going,” he says, standing and straightening my dress.
“Where are my panties?”
He shrugs, looking smug about it. “Good question.”
“Tripp, I can’t go to Mandi’s without panties.”
This year, my bestie decided to host Christmas Eve so Tripp could show up as Santa for the kids. I think it’s a great idea. I’m also looking forward to sleeping in after a night of not sleeping at all with my husband.
