Page 37 of Yule Know It When You See It
She’s hesitant at first, but soon, she’s nestled under the tree with her hands resting on her stomach. It takes a bit of maneuvering on my part, but I find a singular spot where my eyes aren’t getting poked by fake tree branches and rest my head on my folded hands behind me.
“I absolutely love this time of year. The vibrance in the air, the smells, the togetherness, magic, and wonderment.” Theo feels around for my hand, and I offer her one, interlacing our fingers. “But I’ve never felt connected to the—reason for the season.”
A tightness ribbons in my chest.
“You mean the Christmas aspect of it all?” I grip her hand tighter.
She turns on her side, her face appearing within inches of mine. “Yes. I grew up with it all. Know the story. I never naïvely thought December twenty-fifth was Santa Claus’s birthday versus Jesus, or anything, but at dinner, I’d say the prayers out of respect but never knewwhy.”
Theodora Hackett is a woman plucked from another celestial plane and plopped in my path. There’s no other explanation for it.
“In Norway, growing up, my family would celebrate a hybrid of traditions.” I pull her close until her chin rests on my chest and her fingers play with my beard.
“Hybrid?”
Sweeping hair from her eyes, I nod. “We always have a Christmas tree. We even hang paper star lanterns and whatnot, but we start celebrating on the winter solstice. We call itJulor Yule.”
Theo perks up at this, moving to lean on her elbow and yelping when the tree defies her efforts. Sinking back to her shoulder, she nuzzles into me. “And you celebrate for more than a day or two?”
“Yes. Twelve days, to be specific. The whole idea behind it is celebrating the sun’s rebirth because it’s the shortest day of the year.” I absently run my fingers through her hair, feeling the soft sleekness of fiery tendrils against my rough skin.
“Axel.” My name pushes from her throat in a sultry moan, and if it wasn’t for being partially trapped under a tree, I may have rolled on top of her.
“Yes?”
“Will you share more with me aboutJul? About all the traditions? The history?” Theo’s hand sneaks under my shirt, her frigid fingers against my stomach shocking at first.
The fact that she not only wants to know more about my culture’s holiday traditions but also bothered to call itJulhas me ravenous for this woman. I want to know more about her background, family, future plans, hopes and dreams. And I want her physically, emotionally, and in every way possible—I feel like I’ve known her for a lifetime already.
“I’ll tell you and show youeverything.” Curling to the side as much as the space allows, I cup her cheek and press my lips to hers, making swirling patterns against her skin with my thumb.
Theo’s tongue curls with mine, the hand under my shirt exploring higher, a moan vibrating against my mouth from her as nails find my pecs. She bites my bottom lip, her hips pressing against mine, the hardness straining in my jeans pressing into her. Then she disappears, scooting from under the tree and urging me to do the same. I’m standing upright for three seconds before Theo leaps into my arms, trusting I’ll catch her—and I do. We become a hurricane of nips, nibbles, moans, and licks as I walk to my desk and sit her there.
Theo pulls away with a wicked grin perking her lips, hands greedily reaching for my shirt to peek at what she’d been groping moments prior. Her smile fades, eyes becoming hooded, and she stares at my abs for what feels like an eternity. “Axel, are you evenreal?”
“And here I thought seeing is believing?” A throaty chuckle escapes me, and all I can do is stand there while the woman of my dreams ogles my muscles and pokes them, testing if they’d—deflate?
“Tell me another thing aboutJul,” Theo demands, leaning back on her elbows and giving me those come-hither eyes.
Groaning, I crawl over the top of her, unbuttoning only one of her shirt buttons, where I kiss the exposed skin of her stomach, teasing her. “We decorate with goats made of straw and red ribbon. And some versions of the stories say it stemmed from Thor’s two goats.”
Her head had been hanging back, moaning, but it pops up at this, and she goes silent. “Thor?”
Moving further up, I trail kisses across her collarbones, scraping my beard over her already-flushed pink skin. “Uh-huh. Don’t make me jealous of a Norse god now, Romance.” I smile into the kiss I give her, and she grins back.
She stops asking questions and pours more into kissing me, fingers unabashedly climbing up my shirt again, roaming my back and shoulders. I massage one breast through her shirt and bra, feeling sixteen again in a heated make-out session somewhere I shouldn’t be doing it. The thought should’ve made me stop, should’ve brought rational recollection back, but it only egged me further.
She pants into the kiss, her one hand grabbing my ass and groaning at the feel of it. A leg wraps around my waist, and she pulls me tighter to her, making me grunt as my junk gets smashed into the table.
Her eyes fly open with horror, every part of her frozen. “Oh, my—Axel, I’m so sorry. I forget how freaking tall you are.”
Laughing and secretly thanking the stars above, it wasn’t my balls that took most of the impact, I trace a thumb over her lips. “I’m fine. Life would be pretty boring if everything went perfectly all the time, right?”
A newfound determination glints in her eyes, and her hands bunch my shirt, using me to lift her and kissing me again.
That’s until fluorescent lights spill around us, brightening the room in gaudy white. We both still, and a faint whistling ofJingle Bellshas us fumbling to fix ourselves, to make it appear we weren’t just about to screw on my desk in the middle of the night. Someone rounds the corner. The janitor. He nearly jumps out of his skin when he spots us. The mop he holds bounces to the floor, and he pushes a hand over his chest. He’s middle-aged with dark hair turned white at the temples, and his thick mustache bristles when he sneers at us.
“You two about gave me a heart attack. Do you have any idea what time it is?” The janitor points between us.
