Christopher (Mail-Order Brides For Christmas)

My rod, and the caveman inside me, didn’t give a shit about her tenderness. They wanted to fuck her again and again until we couldn’t move, and she was knocked up. I had a stern talk with myself and eventually fell asleep. Unfortunately, my cock took over my brain in my sleepy state, and I ended up taking Winter twice more through the night.

6

Winter

The cold mountain air must have gotten to me because I slept like a baby. Then again, it could’ve just been that having sex—repeatedly—took a lot out of a person. Or maybe it was because my body was gearing up for a possible pregnancy after Christopher had filled me with his come over and over again last night. A super important topic he’d somehow managed to avoid talking about this morning, along with why he’d wanted to consummate a marriage he’d previously been so insistent would be temporary.

Instead, I found myself bundled up and in Christopher’s truck shortly after I managed to drag my sore body out of his comfy bed. And after he’d taken me one more time in the shower.

First, he drove me around town to show me the sights. As we passed street signs like Starlight Avenue and Frost Road and stores called Snow Valley Tattoo and Santa’s Workshop Toy Store, I couldn’t help but feel as though my name made me a perfect fit for Snow Valley. After spotting Mistletoe & Sons and then Mistletoe Hardware, I turned to Christopher and said, “With all the stuff named after your family, it really makes sense for you and your brothers to pool your money to buy the town.”

“There’s been a Mistletoe in Snow Valley for more than a hundred years,” he explained, pulling the truck up into a spot in front of the Garland Diner. Any hope I had of talking to him about what happened last night disappeared when he led me inside. The diner definitely wasn’t the ideal place to have a conversation about our marriage since every single person stared at us from the moment we walked in. Not that Christopher did much more than grunt out his order and play with my fingers until our food came. I’d spent my time taking in the holiday decorations and flashing shy smiles at strangers. Luckily, most of the other customers were women because each time I aimed my smile at a guy, Christopher slid closer to me. As it was, I was practically sitting on his lap by the time our meal was finished.

As the waitress was dropping off the check, she finally worked up the nerve to say, “You two look awfully cozy.”

“Of course, we look cozy.” Christopher pushed his plate toward the middle of the table and flung his arm over my shoulder. “Winter is my wife. We just got married yesterday.”

After a moment of silence, the crowd offered their congratulations, followed by whispered conversations about how the rumors must be true. Christopher didn’t seem bothered by any of the talk as he took some bills out of his wallet and dropped them on the table. After sliding out of the booth, he ignored everyone around us and held his hand out to me. Shaking my head and mumbling under my breath about how lucky he was there was a crowd, I let him help me out of the booth.

I was thinking about how I wanted to broach the subject a few minutes later when we turned onto Main Street. But then he surprised me by parking in front of the Holly Jolly Pub instead of heading back toward his house. “It’s a little early for a drink, isn’t it?”

“We’re not here for a drink.” He chuckled and shook his head, sending butterflies swirling in my belly over how handsome he was when he smiled. “I own the place.”

“Oh.” I stared at the front of the pub in awe while he climbed out of the truck. Owning a successful business was a big accomplishment. Each new thing I learned about my husband made him that much more attractive to me. And I could easily get used to how he insisted upon opening doors for me, too. Gripping his hand—and blushing at a memory of some of the things those thick fingers had done to me the night before—I whispered, “Thanks.”

I let out a little squeak when he lifted me over a small mound of snow near the curb before setting me back on my feet. With his hand on my lower back, he guided me to the pub. The closed sign was up, but the door opened when he pushed on it. The guy behind the bar stopped slicing lemons and glanced up when we walked in. “Hey, boss.”

“Hi, Joe.” Christopher jerked his chin at him, sliding his arm around my back when the bartender’s gaze moved to me. “This is my wife, Winter.”