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He chuckles. “Nah, I don’t see the future, Princess, but I did hope.”
“Missed me, huh?” I ask, taking his face between my hands. The stubble on his cheeks scratches the palms of my hands but I don’t mind.
He grins and grabs my thighs, opening my legs and settling in-between them. “You have no fucking idea.” He pushes into me, and in anticipation of my cry, he kisses me. His tongue flicks against mine and my fingers tangle into his hair. He rocks against me and my hips lift to meet his. We fall into a rhythm that our bodies seem to instinctively know.
He rubs my breast with his left hand and my body arches up to meet his palm. His lips move to my neck and he presses a soft bite to the area where my neck meets my shoulder.
“I’m scared I’ll ruin this,” he whispers into my skin.
I tug on his hair, forcing him to look at me. “You won’t,” I pant, my body straining.
He looks … scared. “I really fucking hope not.”
His lips crash to mine and he rolls so I’m on top. I roll my hips against his and close my eyes, forgetting his words, and getting lost in the moment.
I blink awake and Grace’s darkened bedroom forms around me. I yawn and sit up, looking at the clock on her nightstand. It’s early, a little after six in the morning. She rolls toward my body and reaches with her arms for me, making the cutest fucking sound when she finds my arm. I lie back down and she scoots even closer, looping her leg over mine. She burrows her head against my chest and I rest my chin on top.
“Merry Christmas, Grace,” I murmur.
She stirs and lifts her head, blinking sleepy eyes at me. “Why are you up?” She asks, rubbing her hand over my chest.
I smile crookedly. “It’s Christmas, sweetheart.”
“Mmm,” she hums. “Right. Merry Christmas.”
She lays her head back down and promptly falls back asleep. I run my fingers through her hair, rubbing her scalp, and chuckle when she purrs in her sleep. I need to slip out from under her, go back to my room, but I don’t want to. I want to take in every single second I have with her.
I give myself another ten minutes before I slip out of bed and her room. Thankfully, no one is in the hall, but I can hear someone in the kitchen. I walk quietly down the hall to the bathroom across from the guestroom I’m using. I shower and change into a different pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. Grace said her dad insists on them staying in their pajamas until at least noon—not unlike my own family.
I grab my phone from my room and head downstairs, quietly so that I don’t wake everyone up.
I find Trace in the kitchen and he pours a cup of coffee. “A package must’ve arrived yesterday for you.” He nods at a small cardboard box sitting on the island. “I didn’t see it until last night.”
“Thanks.” I look at the address on the box and smile. “It’s from my mom.” I pick up the knife Trace already had sitting on the counter and use it to cut into the box. A card sits on top and I set it aside to see what sits inside. I move aside the tissue paper and then proceed to laugh my ass off. I reach in and pull out the pajamas. They’re footy pajamas with that damn creepy Elf on the Shelf dude on them.
“That’s horrifying,” Trace comments.
“You’re telling me.” I chuckle and stuff the pajamas back in the box.
I pick up the card and open the envelope. My mom’s slanted cursive greets my eyes.
Sabrina said you were worried about missing out on your pajamas. We could never forget you Bennett! We wish you were here! Don’t forget to call.
—Mom
I smile and put the card away. Trace stands across from me, slowly lifting his coffee mug to his lips.
“Do you make i
t a habit of sleeping in my daughter’s bed?”
I choke on my own saliva. “Um …”
His shrewd eyes narrow. “Don’t even think about lying to me.”
“How’d you know?” I ask.
He shrugs innocently. “I looked in your room and you weren’t there and the bathroom door was open. It was pretty obvious where you were.” He lifts one brow. “Don’t worry, I didn’t open that door.”
