A Merry Vested Wedding - Melanie Moreland Page 0,28

same since I was a small child. Each family had their own Christmas morning, then at lunch, we gathered together at the Hub. We exchanged gifts, went sledding or ice-skating, played outside. Ate cookies and drank hot cocoa. Everyone, right down to the youngest, pitched in for dinner. The women mostly handled the cooking, and the men the cleanup, although I recalled my dad often in the kitchen.

I remembered folding napkins, setting the table, crumbling bread for the stuffing. Years of memories were in that building. The hot cocoa became cider, the cups of milk at dinner replaced by wine, the board games after dinner replaced by movies. But it was the gathering of our families that remained constant.

There was always one gift under our tree at home from Santa and a stocking filled with goodies and little trinkets. My parents had explained that Santa could only leave one gift as he was too busy to do all the shopping, and they helped him with the rest. Family gifts were opened at home, and at the Hub were the ones from Pops and Nan, and the rest of the crew. Names were drawn months in advance. Otherwise, with the number of us, it would have gotten out of hand. But Nan and Pops insisted on buying everyone something.

When we were all really little, Santa came to see us on Christmas Day. His sack would be filled with candy, and we all got to sit on his knee. We never knew when he would show up, but he always did. His laughter was loud and familiar, and it was a long time before we caught on to the fact that it was Aiden under the beard and false belly. I think Gracie took it the hardest when Santa stopped visiting—even if she was older and knew the truth long before the rest of us did.

It was always a day filled with love and laughter, and more times than not, we drifted off, exhausted from the long day. We would fall asleep in the Hub and wake in our own beds the next morning. Even now, once dishes were done, lots of naps happened, especially by the men, sitting on the sofas, replete and tired from the constant craziness of the days leading up to Christmas, not to mention the day itself.

“Our first Christmas as husband and wife,” Addi mused. “I feel as if we should have our own tradition.”

I kissed the crown of her head. “How about each year, Christmas Eve is just us? Here in the house alone.”

“I like that.”

“Okay. This year will be the first.”

We were silent for a moment, watching the fire, listening to the wind outside, wrapped in the warmth of each other.

“Are you sorry we didn’t wait, Addi?” I asked quietly. We hadn’t made love since December 1. In a stupid moment of remembrance, I had suggested it would build anticipation for tonight. I had regretted that impulsive idea until this very moment. The longing I felt for her couldn’t be any deeper. My desire was so intense I could taste it in the air. Feel it pulsating under my skin.

Still, I wondered if she had any regrets.

She tilted her head back, meeting my eyes. “To make love?”

“Yes. I know you had wanted to wait for your first time to be your wedding night.”

She smiled, stroking my jaw softly with her fingers. “It will be, Brayden. It will be our first time as husband and wife. It’s still special, because it’s us. It will only ever be us.”

Her words filled my heart, and I lowered my head, kissing her. As soon as my mouth touched hers, heat filled me. I gathered her close, sliding my tongue into her mouth and kissing her with all the love and passion I felt for her.

Addi whimpered, wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling me in deeper. Endlessly we kissed. Long, hot kisses of passion. Soft, loving presses of our lips. Gentle nips and deep passes of our tongues as we explored. I ran my hands over her, groaning as I delved under the long hoodie to her bare skin. I fingered the lace on her hips, recalling the small band of silk between her legs. I kissed up and down her neck, laving my tongue on her skin, nibbling her ear, my breathing picking up, my cock hardening.

She gripped my hair, tugging on the short strands. Slid her hands up my back, tracing along my spine. Ran her