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“Ryder,” I warn with a half-smile, “the kids just fell asleep. You trying to start something?”

He shifts closer, his hand sliding up my bare leg, slow and sure. “Not starting. Continuing.”

My breath hitches.

He leans in, brushing a kiss against my neck, then my jaw, then just below my ear.

“You know I can’t go a full Christmas without unwrapping something.”

I tilt my head, already melting under his touch.

“Ryder Pierce,” I murmur with a teasing lilt, “are you trying to put another baby in me?”

His hand pauses, heat flaring in his eyes.

“I don’t know,” he says, voice dark. “Is that a request?”

I bite my lip, heart thudding, and tug him closer. "It's a maybe."

His mouth crashes into mine. Heat and hunger and five years of love wrapped into one kiss.

The fire is still the same as that first night.

The need.

The way he looks at me like I’m the only thing in the world that matters.

He pulls me onto his lap, the blanket bunching around our waists. I straddle him, knees sinking into the cushions as I grind against him.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” he growls, fisting the hem of my sweater.

“Then fix it,” I whisper.

He does.

He pulls it over my head, tossing it aside, then groans when he sees the red lace bra beneath.

“Seriously?” he mutters. “You wore this while we were building snowmen?”

“It’s Christmas,” I shrug. “I knew you’d want to unwrap something.”

He laughs, low and rough, then cups my breasts through the lace, brushing his thumbs over my already-hard nipples.

“You’re going to kill me.”

“But what a way to go,” I breathe, grinding harder.

He unsnaps my bra with a flick of his wrist, then dips his head, sucking one nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue over the peak.

I gasp, threading my fingers into his hair, holding him close.

“Ryder…”

“I know,” he murmurs against my skin. “I know.”

He moves to the other breast, giving it the same attention, hands gripping my hips as I rock against him in a rhythm that’s anything but innocent.

He’s still wearing too much.