Queen Bee (Greenbridge Academy Book 5) by Abby Knox

Author:Abby Knox [Knox, Abby]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Author Abby Knox, LLC
Published: 2019-12-20T16:00:00+00:00

16

Ridley

After all the presents are opened and Mother and Neil have broken out the special single malt to celebrate, Crosby and I head to the kitchen and load up a basket full of yummy Christmas food that the staff, who have the day off, have prepared and left for us in the fridge. Crosby grabs napkins, drinks, gingerbread, and Christmas cookies. I whip together a spread of meats, cheeses, fruits, and dips.

Crosby eyeballs my handiwork. “What the hell? How did you do that so fast? It looks too fancy to eat.”

I smile and tell him, “Some moms teach their kids how to knit and bake. In my case, my nanny and Mother’s chef taught me how to entertain at a moment’s notice.”

Unexpectedly, Crosby slides one arm around my waist and pulls me in for a deep, scorching kiss. I rest my hand on his chest and he moans. Things are about to get real horny in the kitchen.

He groans in low-key agony when I pull away to ask, “What was that for?”

“That was your Christmas kiss.”

This gives me a tiny thrill. “Ooh, we have our own special Christmas kiss? But wait, what if I want it and it’s not Christmas?”

Crosby laughs and it vibrates against me. “It’s yours, whenever you want it. Forever.”

The way he’s looking at me with pure unadulterated affection is so beyond what I’m used to. But the past couple of days have taught me more about men and more about myself than I’ve learned in my nineteen years.

It makes me feel bad about not being upfront about—well, not my age, but my actual grade level. I’ll have to tell him at some point. But I think we’re already past the point of this all being an innocent misunderstanding. Maybe he’ll go back to California tomorrow, go back to his old life, and both of us will move on and there won’t be any need to talk about it.

And maybe we’ll hook up again on the sly for the wedding.

Yeah, right, and maybe I’ll pine for him for the rest of my life, because there cannot be any other man who makes me feel the way he does. Who makes me like myself. Who makes me see that I’m a good person.

Crosby cups my face. “What’s going on with you?”

I stammer, “We…we should go check on Sassy.”

We carry our basket and tray of snacks and drinks up to his room, where we spend the rest of the day monitoring Sassy and oohing and aahing over her seven perfect, tiny, fresh kittens.

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