Page 39 of Christmas With The Kings
“‘Nothing,’ she says,” I murmured, moving behind her and brushing my mouth against her ear. “That little shiver looked likesomethingto me.”
She tried to elbow me, but she was smiling and glowing.
I reached over and plucked the thong from her hands. “This one’s going straight in my pocket. Can’t have you getting distracted. You’ve still got a few more clues to find.”
She watched as I pocketed it and sighed heavily before reaching for the card next to the candle.
Get a move on, the time is now,
I promise when you find the next gift you’ll say wow.
Further back, and off to the left, you’ll find a hollowed-out tree.
Reach inside. I can’t wait for you to see.
She knelt beside the next gift, brows furrowed as she unwrapped the sleek black box. I watched the moment realization clicked into place—four clear glass bottles, lined up like soldiers.
Her head tilted, confused.
I stepped up behind her, wrapping my arms around her middle and humming into her ear,“On the fourth day of Christmas…my three Kings gave to me…”
Her breath hitched, then she burst out laughing. “Four tubes of lube,” she sang, not missing a beat, and I laughed right along with her, tugging her closer until her back was flush against my chest.
Her joy was infectious. It lit me up from the inside out, and I grinned like a fool into the top of her head. We shared a sip of hot chocolate fromthe thermos. She tilted it toward me without asking, already knowing I’d take the next drink.
That was the kind of rhythm we had now, and one of the things I loved most about our relationship. It was like we’d always known each other in some form, even before we met.
From there, she tore through the rest of the clues with more sass than shame. She placed them inside the tote one by one as she found them: the curved metal butt plug that made her blush deep crimson, the handcrafted flogger she ran her fingers over with curiosity and reverence, the cuffs—lined with velvet—and the soft cotton rope I’d picked out myself.
She shot me a look with that last one, an eyebrow arched.
I only smirked. “Pretty sure you know what that’s for,” I murmured.
“Uh huh,” she replied, dragging the word out, and the sparkle in her eyes said she was already imagining every possibility.
A light drizzle started to fall as we hit the edge of the woods. I spotted her arms cross over her chest, hands rubbing her upper arms to chase away the chill, but she didn’t complain. She looked determined to find the last gift.
Which, of course, she did.
Tucked beside a fallen log under a small overhang, the final wrapped box waited, looking like it had been placed there by forest fairies. She reached for it, fingers trembling from the cold, and tore it open with growing anticipation.
Inside were eight wax-pitcher candles in assorted colors. She blinked, then glanced up at me, waiting for an explanation.
I grinned. “Alek mentioned something about ‘eight candles dripping,’ and I figured…why not take him literally?”
Her laugh was soft this time, touched with affection and a hint of exhaustion.
“Come on, malyshka,” I said, brushing her damp hair from her face and tugging the scarf around her neck. “You’re shivering, and I want to warm you up under a blanket.”
I gathered the bag of gifts in one hand, kept her tucked beneath my arm with the other, and we walked through the light rain—her fingers laced with mine, her head resting briefly on my shoulder.
Nikolai
By the time we stepped inside the cottage, we were both dripping. Her hair clung to her temples, her lashes damp, cheeks flushed from the cold. My girl was shivering enough to make me worried. She was too delicate. I should have planned better. I kicked off my boots and removed hers as well.
I wrapped my arms around her, drawing her close to my chest. She fit there as if she had been made for it. She sighed, a soft sound that melted straight into my sternum.
“Let’s get you warmed up proper, shall we?” I murmured against her hair, then scooped her up before she could protest.
