guy has no sense of humor,” Ellie said when no one else bothered to speak.
“He’s hurt,” I said. “Why don’t you two join us?”
“Right,” my mother said, walking towards the kitchen. “I’ll get more plates.”
“I’ll get more alcohol.” My dad sprang after her.
“Hard stuff is above the fridge,” I called after him. I think we all need something stronger than wine after that outburst.
“Do you want to sit next to me?” I asked Ellie.
She narrowed her eyes, assessing me once again. “I want to sit next to the lumberjack.” She pointed at Jensen.
He snorted and pulled out the chair next to him. “Come on over, little lady. You said your name was Ellie, right?”
“Correct.” She climbed into the chair. “Are you a real-life lumberjack? Dad said they existed.”
“Why wouldn’t they exist?” Jensen asked tentatively.
“Because they are like Santa, silly. Cutting down trees and leaving you carved presents in the morning.”
Jensen and I exchanged a look, but we didn’t press. Who knew what they were teaching that kid in California?
“I am not. But I am a park ranger.”
“Hrumph. That’s no fun.”
“It can be!” Jensen had that look in his eyes. He was about to go into how amazing it was being a park ranger.
The rest of dinner went surprisingly well. Mom and Dad weren’t as awkward or sarcastic as they usually were, which kept the mood light. It was more like dining with a stranger than my brother, but I guess I should have expected as much, being as I hadn’t spent more than an hour with Avery since I was ten-years-old. Ellie carried the conversation, tittering on about anything and everything, jumping from topic to topic, and it seemed like even though the sarcastic gene had skipped Avery, it had taken a right good hold in his kid.
“That was wild.” Jensen toed off his boots once inside his place.
I pulled my jacket tighter around myself, the bite of the cold still in my veins. “I’m not sure how to feel about it. Do you think he’ll stay?”
Jensen turned around in the process of hanging up his coat. “Is that on the table? Do you think he can uproot a kid?”
“I haven’t a clue, but through our conversations, it sounds like they have nothing left there.”
Jensen nodded thoughtfully. “I guess time will tell, but I don’t want to talk about them anymore. I played nice with the family, and now I want to be naughty.”
“Do you?” Warmth flooded through me as Jensen’s fingers tugged at my coat.
“Let me take this off of you.” He had it open and on the floor before I could think to be stubborn and fight him. He walked me back, pinning me against the door. “I need to be inside you.”
“Need?” I loved the way the word rolled off his tongue. How it tasted on mine.
“Need. I’ve been thinking about it all day.” He was undoing my pants and had my cock free in seconds. “Always so hard for me.”
Our mouths met in a clash, his larger body trapping me there between two hard surfaces. I couldn’t have moved if I’d wanted to. He made quick work of his pants, shoving down boxer briefs. He wrapped his hand around both of us, stroking together.
I broke the kiss, needing to see. I dropped my forehead to his shoulder, watching the rutting. It felt like the first time, every single time. Before I knew it was him. When he’d walk into the library, I had butterflies. Always.
“Do you like watching?” he asked, voice husky.
“Yes,” I said breathlessly.
“So maybe you prefer not wearing the mask?” The question was loaded with more.
“Yes. I love the mask, but this is so much more.” It wasn’t just a fantasy. This was a connection. Jensen was the person I wanted to be with.
“I love it when you see what I’ve seen all these months.” He grabbed my chin roughly again, claiming my mouth as he spun us around.
“Come on. I’m going to fuck you under the Christmas tree.”
“I know why,” I said, unable to hold back my cheek anymore.
“Why?” he asked, already unamused, pushing me down towards the rug next to the tree.
“I’m a gift obviously.” I pulled off my shirt and stretched out, only the glow of the lights illuminating our bodies. “And you should treat me like one.”
“But I thought you were a treasure.” He knelt between my thighs, starting on the buttons on his shirt. “Should I bury you?”
“Frankly I’d feel more love if you did.”
“Let me get my shovel.