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"Sienna, am I going to have any eyebrows left?" I ask nervously. We're in our living room on Thanksgiving afternoon. Lucas and Chloe are in the kitchen, bickering. Usually, I trust my sister to groom my eyebrows blindly, but today I have second thoughts. "You've been plucking for an hour."

"No, I haven't. You're just very jumpy today."

Yeah, the prospect of meeting Christopher's parents in about an hour and forty minutes—not that I'm counting—has turned me into a ball of unease. It started during the night when I woke up with a start. At first, I didn't know what woke me up, but then I acknowledged the stomach cramps. I haven't had cramps since college when I used to regularly get them before exams. That's exactly how I feel about today, like I'm about to face my most important exam.

"The jumpiness aside, I've never seen you this happy," my sister comments after she announces she's done torturing my eyebrows.

This has the unexpected effect of melting some of the tension I accumulated between my shoulder blades. My stomach is still in knots though. Sienna and I switch places. She lies on the couch with her head on the armrest, and I sit on the ottoman, focusing on her eyebrows.

"I am very happy," I say shyly.

"So, at the risk of sounding like Chloe—"

"I swear if you're going to bring up the baby topic, I will leave you with no eyebrows."

Sienna grins, laying it on thick. "I wasn't going to bring up babies."

"Good."

"But you're meeting his parents today. That's a pretty big deal. So…."

"Sienna, I have the upper hand here." I wiggle the tweezers in front of her eyes to drive my point home. "One wrong word and your eyebrows will pay for it."

She tells me about her chemistry project for the rest of the routine. Christopher is picking us up at five, and we're all set at four fifty. I don't recall Lucas and Chloe ever being ready on time for anything, but today they've been surprisingly cooperative.

Christopher pulls his car in front of the house at four fifty-seven. Chloe rushes forward, jumping straight into his arms the second he walks inside. He scoops her up without hesitation. I think Chloe has adored Christopher from that first day they met. Seeing him reciprocate her affection warms me on the inside.

"I see you're all ready," he says with surprise.

Sienna rubs her hands in excitement. "Yes, we are."

"We just have to move Chloe's car seat from my car to yours."

"I can do that," Sienna exclaims, giving me a significant look. "Lucas, Chloe, help me. We're going to need about ten minutes."

"Sienna’s a subtle one," Christopher remarks as my siblings leave the house. He surveys me from my feet up to the top of my head, lingering lavishly on my hips and the swell of my breasts. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you."

I’m wearing a figure-hugging red cotton dress, paired with black tights and ankle boots. The outfit is a little too optimistic for the end of November, but we're going to spend most of the time indoors. The foyer grows smaller the longer Christopher gazes at me, desire lacing the air. I avert my gaze, my cheeks feeling flush. Whenever the kids are around, we keep our kisses chaste and our touching spare. The restrained display of affection usually means that the second we're alone, we can't keep our hands off each other.

Stepping forward, he pushes me against the door, brushing a strand of hair out of my face.

"I'm going to kiss you thoroughly now, Victoria. I need to get my fill of you before we arrive at my parents'."

"So this kiss has to last for the entire evening?" I tease as he places his palms against the door at my sides, trapping me in between. As if I'd go anywhere.

"Yeah."

"Then you'd better make it count."

He feathers his lips over my cheek first, descending to my jaw before sealing them over my mouth. His kiss is gentle and desperate at the same time, nipping and exploring—and above all, demanding. There is nothing halfhearted about this. He kisses like a man determined to light up every single nerve in my body. One of his hands soon drops to my waist, the other to my hip, tugging at my sweater dress, more and more until his fingers reach my… tights. Christopher groans, pushing my dress back down.

"The person who invented tights must have hated men." He trails his kisses down my neck, breathing in and out deeply as if trying to calm himself. His thumb moves in little circles on my hip, and the simple gesture lures a moan out of me. I feel him smile against my neck before he descends to my collarbone.

"Or was concerned about women’s privates freezing in the cold season."

"Makes sense, but there was still a definite man-hating streak somewhere there. I mean, the damn things don't even have a zipper somewhere for quick and easy access." He kisses the sweet spot at the base of my neck once, drawing himself up to his full height, wiggling his eyebrows.

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