Page 86 of Big Santa

“I think we should tell Bryant the amendment was a success.”

I close my eyes. “Absolutely not.”

She laughs against my skin. Soft. Drowsy. “He’s going to know.”

“He’s not going to know.”

“He’s going to take one look at you and know.”

She’s right. He will. He’ll be insufferable about it for the rest of my natural life.

I find that I don’t care.

Her breathing slows. Her fingers go still on my stomach. A few minutes later, she’s asleep, curled into my side like she belongs there, her hair spread across my chest.

I don’t sleep.

I lie there in the dark and listen to my wife breathe. I watch the snow. I think about her candy cane panties. Our negotiations. And a yellow sticky note in Bryant’s terrible handwriting. For when you figure it out.

I haven’t. Not yet. Not all of it.

But lying here with her warm and heavy against me, I’m starting to suspect that I’m closer than I’d like to be.

chapter

seventeen

Noelle

I wake up warm. This is noteworthy because I am almost never warm when I sleep. Grandma used to say I had the circulation of a corpse, which was a particularly disturbing thing for an eighty-two-year-old woman to say.

But right now, I’m warm. Very warm. Possibly because there is an arm around my waist. A large and very heavy arm. An arm attached to⁠—

Oh. Oh my goodness.

My eyes open. For several seconds, I don’t move.

Maverick’s bedroom is still mostly dark, the only light coming from the windows. Snow has piled along the sill, turning everything outside pale blue and white.

I’m on my side.

Maverick is behind me. And there is absolutely no question that he’s awake. Espcially when his hand slides up to cup my breast. His thumb swipes against my already hardening nipple.

“Good morning,” he says. His voice is low and rough with sleep.

Every single thing we did last night comes rushing back at once. The shower. His towel. My amendment. Bryant’s emergency condom. Maverick’s mouth and hands and… yep that is definitely what is poking me in my backside.

His arm tightens around my waist. “Are you pretending to be asleep?”

“No. I’m merely reflecting.”

“On?”

“Recent events.”

His chest moves against my back. He’s laughing.

I roll over to glare at him and immediately discover this was a tactical error. Because now I’m facing him. And Maverick Kane first thing in the morning is ridiculous.