Page 6 of Turtle Dove

“But it’s true, right? Santa isn’t real?”

“Santa is real if you believe in him. If you don’t believe in him, you don’t feel the magic of Christmas. You don’t hear the bells,” I say, remembering a story I read when I was little…

This could work.

“What bells?”

“The bells, silly. When Santa comes, only the true believers can hear the jingle bells. If you listen closely, just before bed on Christmas Eve, you can hear them. That’s how you know Santa is on his way.”

“I’ve never heard them before.”

“Maybe you just didn’t know to listen for them.” I rise to get my coffee when the machine beeps.

“Will you help me hear them tomorrow night? Before I go to bed?” She looks up at me with those wide eyes.

“Absolutely. I will absolutely help you.”

She smiles, a true smile, for the first time since Friday. I pull my cell from the counter and fire off a quick text to Gray.

Good morning. I love you...and we may need Case and Nora’s help tomorrow night. I’ll explain later.

Grayson

“Case is in,” I whisper, as I crawl into bed beside her. I was confused by her text this morning, but once she explained the idea to me, I was fully on board.

“Nora is too. I talked to her a few minutes ago.”

“They love Cadence as much as we do. They want to do this.” I lie on my back with one arm up and under my head, dressed in only a pair of dark gray sweats. The scars that mar my side and hip used to be something I would hide, but here, with Mills, I want to hide nothing. There's no shame in our bedroom. No shame in our lives.

She rolls to her side, facing me, and props her head up on her hand. “Thank you for trusting me to help her with this.”

“Trusting you? Mills, there’s no one else I’d trust more than you. She’s your daughter now too.”

She leans closer and I cup her cheek in my hand. Our lips just barely touch, and it’s like the magnet that resides inside of us pulls us the rest of the way.

Our mouths fit together like a divine being molded them for this purpose. Her lips taste like a strawberry lip scrub she uses every night and her tongue tastes of minty toothpaste. Her face is bare—scrubbed free of makeup—and her hair is loose, still slightly wet from her shower when I slide my fingers into it.

She places her hand on my chest and pushes me, forcing me to roll onto my back and giving her space to climb up, to straddle my waist.

I curl my hands around her hips and slide them beneath the white tank top covering her creamy skin, pulling a soft moan from her lips.

“I love that sound,” I whisper against her mouth.

She pulls away, sitting upright on top of me, using her hands on my chest for balance. “Which?”

“That moan you make when I touch you.” I inch her tank top higher.

She reaches down, crossing her arms over her stomach and lifts the fabric away, tossing it aside, leaving her in just a pair of panties.

“Sometimes I feel like I make that sound just from your eyes on me.” She grinds her hips slowly, my cock perfectly positioned under her, pulling a hiss from deep in my throat.

Her dusty pink nipples are beaded, hard from arousal. They are like beacons, calling for my attention, so that’s what I give them.

“You’re stunning, Mills.” I sit up, giving her nipples a soft suck. “Exactly what a woman should be.”

“You’re biased because I’m about to ride your cock,” she whispers with a giggle.

“I’m absolutely biased, but that doesn’t mean what I’ve said isn’t true.” I kiss her neck, then jaw, then lips. “You’re perfect.”

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