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“Oddly enough,” he said, looking down at his now half-risen cock. “So am I.”
CHAPTER THREE
The next morning, Gabriel watched the Christmas lights glide over Talia’s skin, making patterns for him to kiss and touch. She sighed contentedly, her own hands tracing the muscles of his chest. They’d been up for a while. The sun had made a slow trek from the horizon to the sky, casting the snow outside the window in vibrant, glittering light.
“So, what are your plans today?” she asked.
“As long as the employees I spoke to last night show up, I’m off work and have no plans.”
“Oh good.” She stretched like a happy house cat. “Let’s have breakfast and then do everything we did last night, again.”
“Do I have to wear the onesie again?”
“Did you wear it last night?”
He groaned. “Yes.”
“Put it back on then.”
He laughed and rolled over top of her, kissing her until she had no more orders to give. After a while, he sat up. “I have something special for you.”
She gave him a skeptical look and glanced at his crotch. “Is that what you’re calling him down there?”
“No. I call him Moderate Gabriel.”
Her laugh was like light on a frozen lake. “Most guys would have gone with ‘Big Gabriel’ or even, ‘Lil’ Gabriel.’
“Yeah no. One is too arrogant and one isn’t arrogant enough. Moderate Gabriel and I do good work.”
“This is true. The work was top-notch,” she said. “But you already gave me amazing gifts last night.”
“It’s not a gift, really.” He reached under the tree and came back with a headband with deer antlers on it in one hand, and a light-up Santa hat in the other. “Take your pick.”
“Well, obviously I want the antlers.”
“Obviously.” He sat them on her head and plopped the Santa hat on his. “Get dressed, we’re giving out presents. Then we’ll have breakfast.”
He grabbed the t-shirt and sweats from his bugout bag and wore them over his onesie; not eager for his employees to see Moderate Gabriel bulging out of the striped fabric.
They passed out the ridiculous gifts. Samantha held her necklace with a tiny cupcake on it close to her heart. Her husband was a baker and he knew she’d love it. Imani, who was packing up to go home, giggled with glee at the “head bitch in charge” keyring he’d found for her.
After that, they made their way to the restaurant’s Christmas breakfast buffet. People were lined up to make omelets and waffles. They grabbed plates and made their way down the line. At the omelet station, Talia smiled brightly at the chef. “I’d love a cheese omelet, but do you think my friend here could crack the eggs? He always cracks the eggs on Christmas Day.”
The chef shrugged. “Sure. But if you get shells all over my omelet maker, you’re scrubbin’ it.”
Gabriel swallowed and shook his head at her. “You really listen to everything, don’t you?”
She grinned and gestured toward the eggs. He grabbed three from the bowl and with years of practice, broke them one-handed.
The chef grunted his surprise. “Nicely done.”
Warmth slipped through him like silk at her murmured agreement. But a wave of melancholy tinged it and he tried to push that aside.
Once the omelet was done, they made their way to the fruit and sweet pastries and then found a cozy table toward the back of the restaurant, close to the fireplace, where they could see the flames licking at the wood, and hear it crackling. They clinked their hot cocoa mugs together and toasted the holidays.
After eating and paying, he sighed, strangely happy and sad at the same time. It felt like the warmth of the holidays, all the ways it used to be, but still wasn’t.
“Do you want to take a Christmas walk?” she asked.
