Page 28 of Chilled and Thrilled

A warm laugh breaks free from my chest as I draw back, giving her room to stand. “No, but I have bacon.”

This turns out to be sufficient motivation for Sophie toget to her feet with a groan. She makes a show of bending over to step carefully into the clothes, ensuring I can’t miss the red handprints I left on her perky ass, or the wetness still coating her pussy and inner thighs.

I deserve that, but she allows me to take her hand and pull her out into the hall.

“Holy shit,” Sophie breathes when we make it to the stairs and get our first view of the several feet of snow that built up overnight. Flakes are still falling gently, but if the darkened sky in the distance and the forecast are anything to go by, there’s plenty more to come.

I’m reminded, with a dull jolt, that it’s Christmas Eve. The lack of decorations hadn’t bothered me before. When I learned Leni had a show, and that Honor would be spending the holiday with Riley’s family, it somehow seemed more pathetic to take the time to put up a tree and tinsel just for myself than it did to let the whole occasion pass unnoticed.

Now, with the new, gut-wrenching knowledge that Sophie has been alone every year for Christmas since she was eighteen, I’m kicking myself for not making an effort. I didn’t even buy her a gift, but why would I? Until a few days ago, I was convinced nothing would ever happen between us.

“There’s a company that plows the drive, but they won’t be working until after the holiday,” I report, feeling somewhat more subdued than I did a minute ago as we arrive in the main living area.

The abandoned risotto is where we left it last night, and so are the clothes we ripped off one another. Sophie and I exchange amused looks, and I pull her back into me for one last kiss before rounding the kitchen island.

“What do you normally do for Christmas? If you don’t go to Kentucky,” I ask mildly as I scrape the remains of our dinner into the trash. Sophie, who is busy picking her shredded tank top off the back of the couch, glances at me.

“Not a lot,” she admits, averting her gaze again. “Sometimes I would watch movies. Eat freezer lasagna if I was feeling extra fancy.”

A bitter taste fills my mouth at the casual way she says this, and at the thought of her huddled alone on the couch with freezer food while Honor, Leni, and I were just a few miles away.

Never again. This is the first Christmas we’re spending together, but it won’t be the last.

Except next year, I’m going to be her family.

“I can do better than frozen lasagna,” I inform her as I gather the ingredients I’ll need for breakfast.

Sophie takes the stool across from me, gazing over the countertop with a sweet smile. “I don’t know. Have you tried the one with pepperoni? Life-changing.”

I pause, morbid curiosity getting the better of me. “They don’t really make that, do they?”

She laughs, shaking her head. “Oh, poor, snobby Bram. They absolutely do. You’re not exactly their target customer, though, so I can’t say I’m surprised you haven’t gotten the thirty percent off coupons.” She props her chin on her hand, eyes sparkling in the wintery light.

“I’m not that snobby,” I protest as I take a carton of eggs and milk from the fridge.

Laughing, Sophie gestures to the items, both of which have labels declaring their organic, locally sourced qualities, and completely undermine my claims. “I’m teasing you. It’s not a bad thing, Bram. You like to do things properly. It’s why you’re so good at your job. You know what looks right, and you know what works right.”

My chest fills with warmth at her praise. “Have you spent a lot of time thinking about my more redeeming qualities, Sophie?”

She beams at me, looking very at home in my T-shirt,waiting for her breakfast. “Oh, quite the contrary. I’ve been looking for things wrong with you for ages. At one point, I tried to convince myself you had a weird shaped head.”

I let out a startled laugh, shaking my (normal shaped) head. “Didn’t work?”

“Nope,” she pops the p and sighs.

“What else?”

She considers for a moment, then brightens. “Oh! This one is actually kind of funny. I kept campaigning for our team to get lunch from that Italian place so you’d eat the garlic pasta thing you like, and have bad breath.”

“That was very innovative. Unfortunately, I keep a toothbrush in my office bathroom.”

“Is it super fancy and electric with some kind of supersonic plaque fighting features?”

I can’t stop smiling. “As a matter of fact, it is.”

Sophie fixes me with a playful, stern look. “You’re clearly super mega rich, but you could crank that up to super mega ultra rich if you didn’t spend three hundred dollars on spare toothbrushes. You’ll notice I said toothbrushes, plural, because I’m sure you have another one stashed somewhere.”

It’s in the car, but I’ll allow her the satisfaction of finding it herself. I’ll also be ordering one for her to keep here.

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