She leans in and peppers kisses along my jaw. I know I should push her away, should jump up and storm out and let the freezing outdoor temps cool the fire of arousal I can’t seem to shake. The scent of her expensive perfume swirls my senses, and my body responds to her touch, hardening with need. “Fleur, we can’t.” The words come freely, but I lack the strength to move because every single touch brings me back to Axelle.
Her hand glides down my chest to slip her fingers between the buttons. “Let me be her, Killian.”
The offer is so sweet, so damn tempting, to close my eyes and get lost in Axelle’s body, even if only in fantasy. The delicate touch of Fleur’s lips meets mine, and I give in to the illusion. My hands fork into her hair, tilting her head to gain deeper access. She tastes of red wine and sweet tea. I push the rich flavors from my thoughts and pretend it’s the Jolly Rancher taste of Axelle’s lip gloss.
“Where are you?”
Her soft giggle sounds in my ear. “Thought it was pretty obvious. I’m right here, Kill. I’m not going anywhere.”
She’s here, her luscious body pressed against mine. “Yeah?”
Her breathy moan ignites my blood. “This is right where I’m supposed to be.”
I cup her breasts, flicking the nipple with impatience. “I miss you, baby. I miss you so fucking much.” My voice cracks, and I swallow her answering whimper.
I flip her so she’s beneath me, her tiny form fragile and writhing. The skin on her inner thigh is like the smoothest silk against my palm as I slide it up to cup her over her panties. “Don’t leave me, Axelle.”
She gasps.
“Please, baby…don’t push me away again.”
~*~
Axelle
“Wake up, sleepyhead. Santa came.” I run my hands through Jack’s thick blond hair until his eyes blink open. “Hey, Merry Christmas, buddy.”
He yawns and pushes himself up from his racecar toddler bed. “Santa came?” His scratchy little voice is laced with excitement.
“He did. You wanna come see?”
He nods and throws his arms around my neck, his four-year-old-body clad in red-and-green camo pj’s his Uncle Braeden sent him for Christmas. “Did he bring me a Nerf N-Strike Elite Rhino-Fire Blaster?” He punctuates his question with another yawn.
I nuzzle his little neck. “I think you’ll have to unwrap them all to find out.”
As we step into the living room, the Christmas tree lights bathe everything in an ethereal glow. His eyes pop wide open, and he wiggles out of my arms. “Santa came!”
He races to the tree, and I grab the coffee I made when I woke up and settle on the couch with my legs tucked beneath me.
“Whoa…” Blake comes in, dragging his feet, wearing his red pajama pants and UFL T-shirt. “I thought I heard elves out here.” He swings his eyes to me. “Merry Christmas, kiddo.”
“Merry Christmas.” I nod to the kitchen. “Coffee’s made.”
“Thank God.” He moves slowly to the kitchen when my mom comes barreling out of the hallway with her hair pulled back in a high ponytail and her Christmas shorts and tank top on. Yeah, we’re the cheesy Christmas pajama family. It’s a beautiful thing.
“Did I miss anything?” She drops to her knees next to Jack as he pulls every single present from under the tree.
“Mom, look what Santa brought!” His face is so bright and cheery, not a single trace of the tired kid I brought out here just seconds before.
“I see. Now don’t forget to only open gifts with your name on them, okay?”
“J-A-C-K. Here’s one!” He pushes it behind his back. “This starts with A.” He shoves it back under the tree. “J-A. Another one!”
Blake returns from the kitchen with two mugs. He hands one off to my mom and kisses her lightly. “Merry Christmas, Mouse.”
They’re so cute I could puke.
Blake drops down beside me. “You sleep okay?”
“Yeah, too good. I thought I’d sleep in and miss Christmas.”
“Your room warm enough?”
“Yes, Dad.” I shake my head and take a sip of coffee.
He grins. Big. “Just making sure you’re comfortable in your new home.”
My smile falls a little. It wasn’t by choice, necessarily, that I ended up living back at home with my mom and Blake, but I can’t deny it was the smart thing to do.
Or more importantly the safest thing to do.
I can’t complain.
Things could be worse.
Things could always be worse.
Twenty-nine
One month later…
Killian
“It’s bigger than I thought it’d be.”
I dart my eyes to Caleb, who’s blinking up at the Eiffel Tower.