Page 27 of An Undisputed Christmas
My pink gingham apron was tied snugly around my waist, the fabric flaring slightly over my thermal-clad hips.
Beneath, my cream-colored thermals hugged my curves. I felt feminine and cozy, surrounded by the tools of my craft and the promise of shared joy.
The kitchen itself was a baker's dream with acres of smooth countertops, a farmhouse sink beneath a window that framed the winterwonderland outside, and an island large enough to accommodate our entire chaotic family when they inevitably descended for breakfast.
A deep voice drifted from the speakers, Christmas classics weaving through the air like silk ribbons.
I hummed along as I worked, rolling out sugar cookie dough with practiced strokes, then pressing cookie cutters into the golden surface.
Santas, trees, candy canes, little reindeer—each shape was perfect, waiting to be transformed with icing and sprinkles once everyone woke up.
The sound of bare feet on hardwood made me glance toward the archway, and my breath caught as Adrian appeared like something conjured from shadow and festivity.
His dark hair was tousled from sleep, falling across his forehead in a way that made my fingers itch to smooth it back, though he’d placed his Santa hat on top.
He wore only low-slung pajama pants, leaving his heavily tattooed torso bare, sculpted muscle and ink that told stories I’d learned to read.
But it was his eyes that made me warm—dark and intense, tracking my every movement with predatory focus.
"Morning, angel," he murmured, his voice rough with sleep and something hungrier. He said it like a threat and a promise combined, sending heat spiraling through my belly.
"You're up early," I replied softly, not looking up from my work even though I could feel the weight of his gaze on me. "I wanted to get these done so we could all decorate them together when they cool."
He moved closer, each step deliberate and measured, like a hunter who'd found his prey.
When his chest pressed against my back, I couldn't suppress the small gasp that escaped me. He was radiating heat like a furnace, his skin fever-warm against the cooler morning air.
"Making pretty shapes?" he asked, his breath ghosting across the shell of my ear, making me shiver.
"Mmhmm," I managed, though coordination became off as his arms came around my waist. "Christmas wouldn't be Christmas without cookies."
His hands settled on my hips, thumbs tracing slow circles through the apron's fabric. "And when exactly are the others waking up?"
The question was innocent enough, but the way he asked it, already knowing the answer, suggested his thoughts were anything but innocent.
"Not for hours," I admitted, leaning back into his solid warmth. "They were exhausted after yesterday."
“That’s right.” The single word was laden with promise, his lips finding the sensitive spot where my neck met my shoulder. “Which means I have you all to myself."
His mouth was hot and soft as it traced along my throat, each kiss a brand that claimed me as his. I tilted my head to give him better access, the cookie-cutter forgotten in my hand.
"You smell so good, angel,” he murmured against my skin, nose tracing along my jugular. "Like sugar and spice and everything I crave. But underneath all that sweetness..."
He licked down my earlobe, making me shiver. "You smell like mine.”
His hands were moving now, sliding from my hips to my waist, then up to cup my breasts through the thermal fabric.
Even through the layers, I could feel the heat of his palms, the way his thumbs brushed across my nipples until they peaked against the soft cotton.
"Adrian," I whispered, a mix of protest and plea.
"I know, angel. I can feel how much you want this." His voice was silky and deep, commanding yet tender. "Your body doesn't lie to me."
He spun me slowly in his arms, the movement fluid and romantic, until I was facing him.
My back pressed against the icy window, the frost-kissed glass a shocking contrast to his burning touch. The cold bit through my thermals, making me arch forward into his heat.
"Look at you," he breathed, his eyes roving over my face like he was memorizing every detail. "So fucking beautiful it hurts to look at you sometimes."
