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In my periphery, Xander’s mouth crooked up. "Just one cheeky little elf." He guided a gentle caress along my spine in a familiar gesture. Goosebumps broke out along my arms and the back of my neck. Zander drew me up along his body and kissed me silly. "I may have to get you a sit-stand desk," he apologized as he kissed me slowly, deeply, and left my head spinning.
"I think it might have to be stand-only." My stomach chose that moment to rumble, and I realized I was starving. "Can I get some coffee for us?”
"Did we forget to stop and eat yesterday?" He frowned, staring down at me.
I pressed my cheek to his chest in an effort to shy away from his intense stare that did all the right and wrong things to my body. A slow flush of heat doused me in a heady spiral as he levered my chin back up, offering no escape.
Fine, if that was how we were playing... "I don't think so?" I knew so, but I didn’t want to say that and break the glorious Christmas moment.
"Well then, we’ll have to do something about that.” His broad hands slid down my back, catching my hips. “Are you very sore?"
I shook my head. I mean I was, but not enough to stop him. My body responded to his despite the sweet ache each time my pussy clenched on air. He dragged his hands along my hips, rubbing my pussy over his thick cook.
This time it was me fumbling in the chest of drawers beside his bed, sliding the thin rubber coating over his hard shaft in a controlled drag that left him moaning and gripping me tight.
Zander’s answering smile left me stunned, and he gripped my hips and rocked with me.
***
Ipoured freshly madestew into bowl after bowl. The line for the soup kitchen ran around the block. Though I hadn't been on shift when Zander suggested heading in, I towed him downtown anyway. Just being near him sent zings of pleasure and comfort through me, though the ache in my ass was a constant reminder of who Zander Klauss really was underneath the suits and hermit crab behavior.
We drove across town at a speed I wasn’t really comfortable at but Zander appeared to be comfortable with, trusting the engineering of what was clearly a multimillion dollar car.
“I’m sorry I snapped at you the other day.” He cleared his throat and looked at me expectantly.
“Which time?” I turned a cheeky grin his way, keeping one eye on the road.
“Ahh. Well.” He cleared his throat again, making a hash of it.
I closed my eyes and prayed for patience. “Zander.”
“The photo frame,” he blurted. “I snapped when you touched her.”
“Her?” I swallowed.
“Caroline. She’s— she was my wife. And she was carrying our baby. I lost her to a cataclysmic body fail that she and the baby just weren’t meant to survive. Five years ago. It’s why I removed myself from society. I couldn't look at people and not be horrendously jealous of what they could have that I couldn't.” He stared forward, into the streetlights that blurred either side of us. “It was the first time I realized that money isn’t a fixer upper for everything.”
“Oh, Zander.” I closed my hand around his, squeezing his hand gently.
He swallowed hard, letting out a long, jerky breath. “It still fucking hurts,” he muttered.
“And it always will. Because you cared.”
“That part of adulting sucks.”
“It really does.” I smiled gently as he turned puppy dog eyes on me, reminding me of my assessment that he was just a little boy lost in a big guy’s body. “But you don’t have to be alone.”
“Not any more.” He flashed me a pained grin and focussed back on the road.
It didn’t take us long to reach the soup kitchen, and we both fell into the work as though we’d always been there. Zander served bowls with a smile wearing his Santa outfit without a single prompt from me. More than that, hesmiled. Not the lightning-fast slash of lips from the bedroom that meant dark things to come but the blazing wonder that lived inside him.
And now, he shared it.
Zander talked softly as we worked back to back in a never ending bucket line, murmuring in the same tone he’d spoken about Caroline and their baby in. My heart broke anew thinking of his story, but his hip bumped mine, and he sent me an easy grin over his shoulder as I passed out more bowls. Each bowl went from Zander's hands straight to the person in front of him. And beneath each bowl, Zander slipped a bill. He made us stop on the way to the soup kitchen, having to ask me where the nearest ATM was that would still have cash left on Christmas morning.
I directed him to one that I thought wouldn’t get him robbed as he extracted thousands of dollars in large bills, managing to bypass the usual security constraints.
Because he was, of course, Zander Kluass.
