Shopping for a Baby’s First Christmas by Julia Kent

Author:Julia Kent [Kent, Julia]
Language: eng
Format: epub

Chapter 10

The house is so quiet, it crackles.

You know how houses settle sometimes, like older people standing and stretching, their joints popping and re-aligning? That's what Christmas morning sounds like right now.

Except–more.

The snapping is glass-like, with a familiar quality. Declan snuggles against my ass, moving his hips with a slow, relaxed movement that tells me he's doing it in his sleep. Morning wood presses against me.

I sigh. I love morning sex. But it doesn't love me these days.

I crack open one eye. The clock says 2:45 a.m.

Huh. Not morning wood. Just plain old wood. High-quality sexual mahogany, with a long, deep grain and a rubbed finish.

I sit up and peek in Ellie's crib. She's sound asleep. Whew.

As I settle back down, a glimmer outside the window catches my eye. I sit back up, my spine curling slowly, ribs warm under my full breasts.

A gasp catches in my throat.

Ice.

It's an ice fairyland out there.

People think that living in New England means our winters are snow-covered, quaint affairs with red barns and horse-drawn sleighs and hot cider around a roaring fire.

Maybe on the Hallmark Channel.

The reality is grey slush for five months, wearing long down coats that are nothing more than vertical sleeping bags with holes for the feet, a Hunger Games -like fight for on-street parking spots that you have to dig out yourself (not that I have to do this now that I'm married to a billionaire–bonus!), numbing cold that turns the lower half of your face into a red-chafed mess, and the beleaguered sense that some snowplow drivers are a special form of sadist hired solely for their fetish-like need to pile snow higher, deeper, and in the exact worst spot on your driveway.

Snow bullies at their finest.

“Mmmmm,” Declan says in the soft spot below my earlobe, his wood polishing itself against my ass. “Merry Christmas. Did Santa come?”

I laugh softly.

“Because I'd love to. Wouldn’t you?” His lips replace his nose, the stubble against my neck making the skin under my ribs zing. That tingling is arousal, the kind that comes unbidden, a purely integrated response that shifts me into another space where my body gets the attention it deserves.

His hand slides over me, my shoulder moving instinctively to fit like a puzzle piece with his body, the kiss lush and warm as the ice outside snaps like a percussion ensemble.

Breathless, I murmur against his mouth as his hand slides up my leg, “You're serious.”

He moves his hips just enough to show me he has quite a healthy dose of serious going on. “Of course.”

“Where?”

“Here.”

“Not with Ellie right there!”

One eyebrow goes up in a predatory gesture that I swear has some kind of magnet in it that makes my knees open.

Pressing a finger to his lips, he climbs off me, the sudden lack of warmth making my nipples tighten.

Oh, who am I kidding?

That's not why.

Taking my hand, he helps me stand, and we tiptoe to the door. Thankfully, it's been oiled recently. No creaking. As we step through the doorway, Ellie lets out a big sigh.

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