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“It could be, brat.”
She bit her bottom lip, blinking up at him shyly.
At that point he walked away, following Gilbert and Montague farther into the woods.
He could hear her tromping after him through the dead grass. “Do we have many ornaments? Knowing Sutton, I bet they’re classy.”
“Nothing I want on the tree this year. We’ll have to get new ones.”
“Where are the old ones?”
He’d almost thrown them in the fire, but hadn’t been able to do that without talking to Church first. “In the attic. They’re not classy, though. Just stupid ones we made when we were kids.”
“Awww! I want to see them! Those need to go on the tree!”
“No.” He snorted. “We kept trying to talk Sutton out of using those, but she insisted every year. When Ilse started coming around I thought Church was going to die – Sutton showed her every one and told her when we’d made them. So ridiculous. Just old art projects from when we were little. They belong in the garbage.”
The pups were still frisking around their feet, showing no signs of playing themselves out. Silly things. Cute, but completely impractical.
“I bet Ilse thought your ornaments were adorable. The way Sutton felt about you two, I’m not surprised that’s what she chose to decorate the tree with.”
He grimaced.
“Guys are weirdly unsentimental,” she said gravely, as if not wanting to hang on to ugly pinecone men with popsicle stick skis was a sign of gender-based inferiority.
At that point they arrived at the clearing he’d had in mind, and he stopped. “Here. I was thinking of using one of these ones,” he said, pointing out five trees of various heights. They’d be easy to cut down and drag out because they were in the open. How big do you want it?”
She winked. “You know exactly how big I want it.”
“I don’t, actually,” he pointed out. “Every time I fuck you, you start whining – Mister Leduc! It hurts! It’s too big!”
She glared at him. “You should quit lifting weights with that thing. I swear it’s bigger every time. It definitely didn’t need the hardware, although it’s really freakin’ hot.”
“The tree, woman. Focus. Why are you talking about my dick again?” Her obsession with his piercings and the attention she gave them amused him. When he’d had them done, he hadn’t thought anyone would actually see them except Rodrigo. Well, at least his dick was a novelty – maybe more like a freak show – even if he wasn’t the most skilled lover she’d ever had.
Her gaze traveled downward, to his zipper. He could force her to her knees and make her suck him. She never objected when he did.
“The tree.”
“The tree?” She raised her gaze to his again then flushed. “Oh.” Struggling with unruly puppies, she made her way closer to the trees. She walked back and forth, looking them over, then finally turned back to him and shrugged. “You’re to one who has to chop it down and drag it back. You pick.”
He trailed the ax down her arm, and she shuddered even though there were two layers of clothing between her and the blade.
“Miss Korsgaard, I told you to pick one. I don’t think you want me to punish you out here in the cold, with your pups watching.”
She sucked in a breath. “Tattoo.”
“What?” he looked at her, baffled then remembered it was her safeword.
“Axe play – hard limit. I just thought I should let you know right away, in case you were having...thoughts.”
Menacing her with an axe hadn’t crossed his mind, but she didn’t need to know that.
“Shit. There goes my festive kink idea. Would you prefer the chainsaw?”
“Mister Leduc!”
He was still smirking when he went to size up the tree.
