Page 104 of All of You

It’s cheesy but makes my stomach flip and my heart flutter anyway. I never thought I’d fall for the cheese factor…but turns out when it’s the right person being cheesy, I love it.

Xoxo HandsomeI reply.

Fifty One

Langdon

The house is moving with life. Dishwasher going, floors creaking, bodies up and at ‘em.

There is so much laughter in the house that if you tried to quantify it—to capture and jar it, it would be so great you couldn’t hold but a tiny fingernail size without doubling over in a fit of giggles and most likely peeing your pants.

Mom, Dad, and, Anderson sit in the living room with Heath, and Delia’s mom. They’re playing Taboo. Anderson is going ham with the buzzer. The Christmas tree is lit up with warm white lights and Dad has the fireplace going.

Christmas is three days away and I’m excited. It’s been a while since Christmas has excited rather than depressed me. Christmas was Olivia’s favorite holiday and without her inthe house…it didn’t feel the same as it had. But this year, things feel hopeful. Happy even.

A hand snakes around my waist.

“You look happy. What’re you thinking about?” Delia asks.

I shake my head and shrug because I don’t have the right words to adequately express myself and pull her into my chest.

“This is nice,” she says.

“My hug?”

Delia laughs. “No. Well, yes that too but no. Being here at your house for a little celebration. The Yankee Swap was fun.”

I roll my eyes at her. “Yeah, for you.” I’m still miffed that Delia ended up with the best gift of the swap and that I’m stuck with a creepy porcelain retro Santa statue. She laughs at me.

“Your Santa can go in the swap next year. Someone else will be stuck with it. But it’s notthatbad.”

I widen my eyes. “You’re more than welcome to put it on your nightstand and have it staring at you all night if you’d like.”

She shakes her head. “Nah. I’m good. I think it was meant for you. Wouldn’t want to piss it off.”

“So, you agree that it might be possessed!” I toss my hands in the air in mock horror.

She smiles coyly at me and shrugs. “Are you excited for your gift?” she asks quietly.

I put my forehead against hers. “Should I be? You won’t even give me any hints. What if it’s another Santa.”

“Oh, it’s no Santa,” she teases. “It’smuchbetter than that.”

My brain instantly goes to the gutter. My heart rapid fires. Chest tightens. Throat closes with anticipation. We’ve been messing around for months now. Doing all the things (that I know of) that a couple can do without actually doingitand while that’s all good and great, there’s this primal drive to be closer to her, to be a part of her—to claim her. Which is archaic and barbarian and very testosterone-fueled fueled but it’s there and it makes life frustratingly hard—if you know what I mean. And Delia—the cunning flirt knows it and uses it to her advantage when she can—which is almost always.

Last week we were closing RootBound and Viv had to leave early and Delia tugged me—rather aggressively—into the greenhouse after locking the shop door and well, the things we did…at work…I’d never considered doing at work before. It was hot. And we almost had sex, but I didn’t have a condom with me and honestly, in the heat of the moment even that hadn’t been enough of a deterrent…but it was and we didn’t.

But every sultry look she gives me, every coy smile, each brush of her skin against mine or soft lips to mine in a goodbye kiss has me jonesing for a night alone with her to play and explore and enjoy. I’ve learned what makes her gasp. Which spots she likes tickled or not. All the spots that turn her into a puddle of desire and now I want more. The way her body bucks when I bury my face between her legs, the dewy glow that makes her skin radiant, the satisfied expression—sloppy with lust, is just a gateway drug. I’m hooked. Addicted, knowing that I do that to her. I’m a Delia junkie.

I need a fix. I tug her into the kitchen, behind the half wall, just barely out of sight from our families and kiss her throat in the exact spot that I know drives her crazy. A groan slips from her. I run my hand down her side until I hit the hem of her very sexy red holiday dress.

“Langdon,” she breathes.

“Shh,” I whisper into her ear before nibbling on her lobe. I lift the hem up and slide my hand up, ghosting her soft thigh as it climbs higher. Her lips feel like silk against mine. Warm and soft and freaking perfect. She spreads her legs further apart, letting my hand slip between them. Her hands clutch my neck. I love the way her fingers feel as they sweep back and forth over my skin. Her breath picks up. A little more frantic as she grinds against my hand.

Out of nowhere, an obnoxious buzzer sounds next to my ear. I stumble back away from Delia who isbrightred with embarrassment as Anderson snickers. She discreetly tries to smooth her dress.

My big brother instinct kicks in. My irritation maxed out. I didn’t even hear him come into the kitchen. He better not tell everyone. Anderson glances at me and the smile slips off his face as his eyes widen. His hands go up slowly in surrender.

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