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“Oh, I think it was a brilliant move, considering our current position.”
Jack climbs over me and I instinctively wrap my legs around his hips. He cups my cheeks, alternating between sucking on my upper lip and flicking his tongue across my mouth. He kisses me with enthusiasm, like he’s starved, making me want to give him everything he asks for and so much more.
My smoldering desire bursts to life, setting me ablaze.
I entangle my fingers in Jack’s hair. My moans reverberate through our kiss as his skilled tongue intertwines with mine, leaving me breathless and begging to be fucked again. Our intoxicating chemistry is maddening, and while my sole focus is on his hand sliding down my thigh, I almost miss the knock on the door.
“Presley, breakfast is ready. Are you coming down soon?” my mom calls from the hall.
“Thanks, Mom. We’ll be right out,” I squeak out, leaning against Jack’s chest only once I hear her footsteps fade. “She has the worst timing.”
“It’s called motherly intuition,” he teases. “Come on. We’d better get a move on before she sends your dad up here.” He kisses my forehead and shoots me a playful wink.
“Seriously, these are the best pancakes I’ve ever had. Thanks, Mom.”
I stuff another forkful in my mouth. One of the things I love most about my visits home is her exceptional cooking—it can’t be beat.
“My pleasure, sweetheart.”
I’m relieved she’s acting normal, which means she either didn’t hear anything when she came to my bedroom earlier or she’s at least pretending that she didn’t.
“Someone has a big appetite this morning… Any particular reason why that might be?” Dylan gives me a wary gaze.
He caught Jack and me kissing on the stairs on our way down to breakfast, which might explain his crabby mood.
“Nope. I just love Mom’s cooking—that’s all.” I give him a smug smile. “Where’s Dad and Lola?”
“He was shoveling the driveway when we got here, and she roped him into helping her make a snowman.”
Sure enough, when I look out the floor-to-ceiling windows facing the backyard, I spot my dad pushing a giant snowball across the yard, Lola racing behind him with a carrot and top hat.
“Oh, gosh. Poor Lola,” I say sympathetically. “Hasn’t anyone told her that Dad is terrible at making snowmen? They always topple over before we have time to add the accessories.”
“He tries his best, dear,” my mom says from her place at the stove. “Why don’t you go out and help once you’ve finished your breakfast? You can make sure that poor snowman stays upright.”
“I’m planning on it.” It might not be on my official holiday wishlist this year, but I’m definitely not passing up an opportunity to make new memories with my family.
And Jack.
“Dylan, where are your brothers?” my mom asks. “It’s not like them to skip out on breakfast while Presley’s in town.”
“They had something they had to take care of this morning,” he says cryptically.
“Make sure they know I expect everyone to be here tomorrow afternoon for our annual holiday movie marathon. Your father and I will be back by then.”
My parents drive the three hours to Spring Haven to visit my aunt Clara for one night during the holidays every year to help her around her farm. I usually tag along, but I’m happy to stay behind this year, considering Jack and I will have the house to ourselves.
“Don’t worry, Mom. We’ll all be there,” Dylan assures her. “What’s on your agenda for the day?” He directs his question to me.
“Jack and I are going to stop by Winter Woodland. I spoke with Mrs. Taylor, and she said she was expecting a final shipment of balsam firs this morning.”
Dylan knows I love being the one to pick out the tree that we all decorate on Christmas Eve. It’s been a tradition since I was in middle school.
“Think you could do me a favor?” he asks.
“What is it?”
“I have some last-minute shopping I have to do. Would you mind watching Lola this afternoon instead?” He gives me a pleading look. “Jack can come with me, and we’ll snag you the best tree on the lot while we’re in town. We’ll take my truck to load it up and bring it back here.”
