Page 22 of Wrapped Up with the Mountain Man
It's a story Dove made up last year about a mouse who helps Santa deliver presents to forest animals. Danny's heard it dozens of times, but it never gets old. As she tells it now, her voice soft and melodic, I watch our son's eyes grow heavy.
Mia and Bentley curl up on either side of us, and even the adults grow quiet, drawn into the magic of story time by the fire. This is what Christmas should be, I think. Not perfect or elaborate, just present. People who care about each other, sharing time and attention and love.
By the time Dove finishes the story, Danny is fast asleep in my arms, his small body warm and trusting against my chest. Mia and Bentley aren't far behind, exhaustion finally overtaking excitement.
"I think that's our cue," Catherine says softly, gathering their things. "We should get these two back to the hotel before they fall asleep in your living room."
The goodbyes are quiet and full of promises to see each other tomorrow for Christmas brunch. After they leave, I carry Danny to his bedroom while Dove tidies up.
"Out like a light," I whisper as I rejoin her, finding her standing by the fireplace.
"He had such a good day," she says, leaning back against my chest when I wrap my arms around her. "They all did."
"You created this whole tradition."
"We did it together."
My hands settle on her stomach, where our daughter is apparently doing somersaults. "She's restless tonight."
"She likes the sound of your voice. Always calms down when you talk to her."
"Smart girl. She knows her daddy already."
Dove turns in my arms, her hands sliding up my chest. "Speaking of smart girls, I believe someone promised me some time under the mistletoe."
I glance up at the green sprig hanging from the beam above us. "Did I?"
"Mmm." Her eyes are dark with want. "Something about making up for all the Christmas Eves we missed."
"That's a lot of making up," I murmur, lowering my head until our lips almost touch. "Might take all night."
"Good thing Danny sleeps through everything."
I capture her mouth with mine, and immediately the gentle evening transforms into hunger. Three years of marriage, and I still can't get enough of her.
"I love you," I groan against her lips, my hands in her hair.
"Show me," she whispers, and heat shoots straight to my cock.
I deepen the kiss, backing her against the wall, careful of her belly. Her hands work at my shirt buttons, and when she pushes the fabric off my shoulders, her intake of breath is satisfying.
"How are you even more gorgeous now?" she asks, her hands exploring my chest.
"Good genes and a wife who keeps me satisfied."
"Is that what we're calling it?"
"Multiple orgasms a week with the sexiest woman alive."
Her words make my cock pulse. Even pregnant, even tired from a long day, she can reduce me to desperate need.
"Flattery will get you naked, Mr. McKenzie."
"I'm counting on it."
I lift her carefully, carrying her to the thick rug by the fire. The Christmas tree lights cast everything in warm, flickering light.
"You sure?" I ask as I lay her down. "You're not too tired? The baby—"
