Page 30 of An Unexpected Christmas
The knock comes again, louder this time, and I set the mug down before making my way across the floor.
When I pull it open, the last person I expect to see is standing there, cheeks flushed, Santa hat jauntily on her head, curls peeking out. Frankie beams at me, clears her throat dramatically, and launches straight into song.
“Weeeeeee wish you a merry Christmas, we wish you a merry Christmas, we wish you a merry Christmas and a happy new year…”Her voice wobbles like she’s doing karaoke after too much eggnog, but she powers through, eyes locked on mine, grinning like the fool she knows she sounds like. “We wish you a merry Christmaaas, and a happy new year!”
I blink, too stunned to do anything but stand there while she claps twice for emphasis… before launching straight into the next verse.
“Oh, bring us some figgy pudding, oh, bring us some figgy pudding—”
“Frankie—”
“Oh, bring us some figgy pudding, and bring it right here!” She throws her arm out like she’s conducting a choir of one.
By the time she stomps her boot for the big finish—“we won’t go until we get some, we won’t go until we get some”—my cheeks ache from laughing, my hand braced against the doorframe as I let her finish, enjoying watching her sing her little heart out… for me.
When she finishes on a dramatic note, she heaves a loud breath, white air pluming around her.
“You’re here,” I say, because my mind is awash with her, and it’s all I can manage.
“I’m here.” She tugs at the end of her hat, suddenly shy despite the fact she just serenaded our whole street. And me… she serenaded me. She’s here. My heart feels too big for my chest, my pulse rattling wildly in my neck at the idea that she’s stayed here for me. My brain struggling to wrap around that.
“But I thought—”
I don’t get to finish that sentence because she launches herself at me, arms locking around my neck. Her body presses flush to mine. The force of it knocks me back a step, but I don’t let go. I can’t.
“I couldn’t leave,” she breathes against my ear, voice shaking just enough to undo me. “Not when I wanted to be here. With you. Is… is that okay?”
Something splits open in my chest, something I didn’t even realize I’d been holding together with both hands. Becausethat’s what this is, isn’t it? This isn’t a chance thing. Frankie made a choice to stay here.
“Frankie. It’s more than okay.” Her name is a growl, a plea, a thank-you all in one as I kiss her harder, deeper.
My mouth finds hers over and over, desperate and reverent all at once. She tastes like cold air and something sweeter that’s all her, and when she moans into me, I eagerly swallow the noise and lose whatever control I was clinging to.
I guide her inside, then push the door shut with my foot, trapping her between it and me. She gasps, then laughs against my mouth, and I drink it in like oxygen. My hands slide beneath her coat, greedy for heat, for skin, for anything that proves she’s real, and she’s here.
She tugs me closer, like she’s afraid I’ll vanish if she doesn’t anchor me. “Sam,” she breathes, breaking just enough for the word to slip out, her lips brushing mine.
“You chose me,” I murmur against her mouth, the realization hitting me all over again, hotter than any touch. “You could’ve been anywhere tonight.”
Her eyes shine, certain. “I wanted to be here.”
That’s all it takes. My control unravels, thread by thread. I tilt her chin up and kiss her like I’ve been starving for it, because I have. It’s only been hours, and I’ve missed her. Her coat slips from her shoulders, pooling at our feet. My hands roam, greedy, mapping every inch, and I don’t think I’ll ever get enough.
I lift her easily, her legs wrapping tight around my hips, her laughter tumbling into my mouth.
I press her harder against the wood, my forehead dropping to hers for a beat, needing her to see it, to know it. “You undo me.”
Her fingers thread into my hair, tugging me back down. “Good,” she whispers. “Because you undo me too.”
Frankie
Best damn Christmas of my life
Somewhere between the door slamming shut and Sam’s mouth dragging down my neck, we moved. I don’t even remember how. One second, we were laughing, kissing, clawing at each other’s coats, and then suddenly, I’m hoisted onto the kitchen counter, my pants have gone, and his hands firmly rest on my thighs as he spreads me open for him.
His touch is hot, greedy, fingers dragging over me before moving up to cup my breast. I gasp into his mouth when his thumb circles my nipple through lace, and he absorbs the sound like it fuels him.
I fumble with his shirt, desperate to feel him bare, and he helps me, yanking it over his head before pulling my sweater off too. Clothes hit the floor in a trail that doesn’t matter. Nothing matters but the way his eyes darken as he looks at me, chest rising hard, like he can’t believe I’m really here.
