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My body tightens, shaking as he brings me over the edge. I moan his name, digging my nails into his back. His body seizes, latching his lips to mine as he releases inside me. Riley topples over, pulling me with him, and I laugh.
“Best Christmas morning I’ve ever had,” he teases, and I can’t help but agree.
Soon, we’re cleaning up, and he’s putting on his layers of clothes so he can get the day started. I frown because I already miss him.
“I’ll pick you up around eleven for lunch.” He gives me a goodbye kiss, and I want to pull him back into bed with me, but I know I can’t. I yawn, and once he’s out the door, I easily fall back to sleep.
I wake to Riley plopping down on the bed next to me, brushing his fingers over my cheek. I reach for him with sleepy eyes and a smile.
“You know we can’t be late,” he reminds me, but there’s no way I’d forget. Grandma Bishop invented punctuality.
“Is the snow still there?” I lift my head and try to catch a glimpse out the window but fail miserably.
“No, as soon as the sun came up, it pretty much all melted. Usually doesn’t stick.” He leans down to give me a kiss, which I happily accept. “It’s half past ten,” he tells me, playfully pushing me, and I lazily roll out of bed, still naked, and go to our closet.
“Damn, am I glad I made Diesel move out.” Riley groans with a smirk, fully taking me in, and it causes me to laugh.
I slip on a sweater and some jeans, then put on some boots that go halfway up my calves, and throw my hair into a messy bun.
“Don’t forget to grab the Christmas gifts for Grandma and Grandpa,” I remind Riley.
“Good call,” he tells me with a grin, pulling the presents from under the tree.
Yesterday, we celebrated at his parents’ house, exchanging gifts and eating a ton of food and sweets. Riley’s parents told me stories about him as a kid, and Rowan didn’t let them hold back anything. She and I have become really close friends, and I can tell her almost anything, though I leave out all the sex because it’s her brother, and she’ll roll her eyes with a gag. I adore his parents so much, and they’ve quickly accepted me as their second daughter, a title I’m proud to have earned.
Riley and I climb into the truck and head to the other side of the ranch where his grandparents live. The yard is full of trucks, and I know the house is going to be crammed full of all the kids and grandkids.
We walk inside, and everyone instantly starts shouting their hellos. No one with the last name of Bishop is remotely quiet. I think it’s because they’ve always had to talk over each other to be heard, which I find hilarious.
Before we make our way to the kitchen, Riley points above the entrance where mistletoe is haphazardly hung. With a swift movement, he pulls me into his arms and captures my lips with his. The aww’s and a few gagging noises from his younger cousins fill the space because, of course, we have an audience.
“Gotta kiss my wife under the mistletoe,” he exclaims. “Bishop tradition.”
I laugh and grab his hand and look around at all the love in the room. Grandma Bishop comes up and pulls us into a big hug and gives us kisses. She’s wearing the cutest Santa Claus apron and looks like Mrs. Claus. “So glad you kids could make it.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I say, and she gives me a soft pat on the cheek.
“We’re getting ready to say grace so we can eat,” Grandma Bishop announces, speaking loud enough for everyone to get the message. The men remove their ball caps and cowboy hats before their grandfather says the blessing. He ends it with a big, “Let’s eat!”
All the adults sit at the main table to eat, and in the other room, a kiddie table is set up. Since we’re married, we get to sit with the grown-ups, which has Riley gloating as the others shoot daggers at him. We fill our plates high from the mounds of food. By the time we’re done eating, we’re so miserable from stuffing ourselves to the max. I take our plates to the kitchen and set them in the sink when Grandma Bishop thanks me.
“So when are you and Riley going to make me some great-grandchildren?” she asks pointedly.
My eyes go wide, and Riley’s mama walks up and clears her throat. “I’m not ready to be a grandma just yet.”
“Well, I’m not gettin’ any younger,” Grandma Bishop hints, giving me a sweet smile. The woman loves her kids, grandchildren, and I’ve heard stories about how much pressure she puts on everyone. Needless to say, we’re in the hot seat. I laugh, excusing myself, and rush back to Riley.
