Page 80

I forgive him as he slides in next to me, welcoming the heat of his body as it covers mine, then slides down, pulling the covers up and over his head.

When his mouth finds me, it’s both a release and an instant reminder of how quickly he has learned my body. The slow strokes of his tongue and the pressure of his fingers find all my spots within seconds.

Without meaning to, I begin to moan. I come quick and hard, my back arching off the bed as the waves of pleasure curl my toes.

“Shhhhh.” He laughs, but he slides out from under the covers and smothers my mouth with a kiss.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper when my brain finally has enough power to register where we are. “I got caught up.”

“I love the noises you make,” he whispers through kisses. “Every single one of them.”

His mouth covers mine again, muffling whatever satisfied sound is escaping as he settles between my thighs and presses himself inside me.

My brain loses all thought as he begins to pick up his rhythm, grabbing the rungs of the headboard to keep them from banging against the wall. However, if his intention was to keep quiet, he has failed to anticipate the leverage the headboard gives him as he thrusts deeper and harder with every stroke. My second orgasm comes on even faster and more intense, overtaking my body and impairing my ability to keep back the moan rocketing from my chest. But it’s not my voice that breaks the dark and quiet. It’s his deep and low “oh fuck” that fills the room as everything inside me fills with a euphoric rush.

I close my eyes and succumb to the waves of pleasure taking over my body, still feeling floaty and light as he exhales and collapses on top of me, laying his cheek on my breasts until I catch my breath and begin to laugh.

“Please tell me the walls here are thick or your parents are very deep sleepers.”

Mackenzie lifts his head just enough to look at me. “To be honest, I have no idea. You are the first person I’ve ever brought home.”

He returns his head to my chest, and I stroke his hair, letting that new piece of information sink in.

I think again of his mom’s words from earlier in the kitchen.

He loves hard. Doesn’t protect himself. Even when it costs him.

It’s the opposite of me in every way—I guard. I protect. Falling means getting hurt.

And yet, lying here next to him in the dark, I find myself falling hard.

27

I wake up sometime in the early morning to a kiss on my neck and a “Merry Christmas, Annalise” whispered in my ear. But before I can say it back, sleep reclaims me, and I slip back into dreams. When I wake again, it’s some time later. The sun is streaming through the window and the smells of coffee, bacon, and something cinnamony waft up from the kitchen downstairs.

I roll over in a bit of a panic. His house has a single staircase. A staircase that leads directly down to both the living room and the dining room, and unless he plans to Spider-Man his way out of here, we are going to have to do a Christmas morning walk of shame.

“Mackenzie.” I reach for his back to shake. However, the pillowy mound beside me is just that, only pillows, and the mattress beneath them is cold.

I scramble out of bed, throw on clean sweatpants and my official Midnight Station hoodie, and head to the stairs, pausing at the top. The Christmas tree is lit up and beautiful, and there’s already a fire crackling away. Aaron and Clive are lounging on the couch in matching Midnight Station merch with mugs of something hot and steaming in their hands. Nancy is in her recliner with a book, and someone is, from the sounds of things, in the kitchen blending something.

“Good morning,” I say. “Merry Christmas.”

Nancy puts her book down. “Morning, sweetheart.”

Clive and Aaron both raise their mugs. “Look at us, twinsies,” says Clive. I open my mouth to ask if Mackenzie is up yet, but my answer comes as the front door swings open, bringing with it a shot of cold air.

“Merry Christmas.” Mackenzie bangs his feet against the doormat, kicking snow from his boots as he closes the door behind him. He sheds his winter gear and meets me at the bottom of the steps, where he slides a cold hand around my waist and kisses my cheek. “Morning. How did you sleep?” His tone is nonchalant, but his mouth curls as he says it.

“Pretty good,” I answer. “I was exhausted.”

He nods at the tree. “Looks like Santa found us.” The pile of presents spills out well past the lower branches, and the seven red stockings that were empty when we went to sleep last night are so full they’ve tipped on their sides.

Nancy pushes the footrest of her recliner in with a click and stands. “I swear I heard Santa on the roof last night, just after midnight.”

My body goes still.

“He was making quite the racket,” she continues. My stomach plummets, and I know my cheeks have flushed a bright red, which only deepens as Aaron and Clive start to laugh.