Season's Greetings : Christmas Box Set

His pupils dilate. “I like those words on your lips.”

“Hmm, don’t get too used to it.”

“Drink up, little one. We’ve got things to take care of.” He taps the bottom of my cup.

“What’s my motivation?”

“Seeing me chop down the tree of your dreams.” He playfully flicks my nose, and I finish the cup.

“Good girl.” The shudder that runs through me has nothing to do with the cold. We toss our cups into a garbage can and return to the car for an ax and a sled.

“I have a confession to make.”

“I’m all ears, little one.”

&nbs

p; “I’m awful at proportions.” I exhale.

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure it’s the right size for your house. Any time we’re together, you never have to worry about the details. Enjoy being here and pick the one you love.” His voice is anti-anxiety medicine. The calm he provides me is exquisite. I brush my gloved hands against pine needles as we wander. There are so many choices. The size and fullness vary. A mid-sized tree with full branches comes to my attention.

“Caleb?” I grab his elbow.

“Did you find him?” He leans down toward me.

I nod enthusiastically.

“Let’s get him down then.”

He wanders around the tree, measuring distances with paces, before removing his outerwear, revealing a black and white plaid shirt and a white Henley. Pushing the long sleeves up, he hands me his coat and directs me three feet away. “I want you to stand there where you’ll be safe from any flying wood.

“Yes, sir.”

Smirking, he hefts the axe. I watch as he attacks the tree with sure whacks. I press my thighs together as my body responds to his raw display of strength. I imagine how much hotter he’d look topless. Can we revisit this place in warmer weather? Or just get naked together?

He yells timber and tips over the tree. My flooded underwear need to be retired as he hefts the tree onto the sled and latches it down with bungee cords.

“Well?” He holds out his arms.

I clap. “Very nicely done.”

“I do love to rise up to a challenge.”

I bite my bottom lip.

“Come here.”

The two words enrapture me. I step forward, feeling like I’m physically pulled by an invisible force. I stop close enough to feel the heat rolling off his body. A thin sheen of sweat lines his forehead. I want to lick it off and taste the salt, the manliness. His breath comes out in a hazy cloud that warms my face. He moves even closer—slow enough for me to ask him to stop if I want. I tilt my head, meeting him halfway. His lips brush mine. I sigh, leaning in to grip his warm shirt. The tip of his tongue traces my lips.

“You’ve got such a pretty mouth, Romy. I could do so many things with those lips if you’d let me.” He pulls back, and our breaths meld. “Do you want me to?”

God, yes. I open my mouth to answer, but laughter booms to our left. I jump. He places an arm around me, palming my hip. Closing his eyes, he inhales. “Time to get you and your tree home.”

I cover his hand with my own. “Stay to decorate it?”

“If you’d like.”

“I’d like.” The words flow forth like water.