Page 47 of Winter Wishlist
“Could you grab my phone for me, please? I left it charging in the spare bedroom.” I add. The place where my bag has resided, but I certainly have spent zero time.
Henri’s reply is entirely a mix of cooing at the dog in French and something that I can only assume is ayesto both our requests.
The two of us stay cuddled together in a comfortable silence. I like that about Reid; he’s easy to be around in a quiet way. There’s no pressure to do anything more than drink in the view beyond the windows and listen to the crackle of the fireplace.
All while doing my best to ignore the sound of my heart whispering with each subtle thump of my pulse…this could be your future.
Henri’s words ring in my ears from last night.Logic taking a back seat. Instinct taking over.
They would know all about that, I’m assuming. These men both had professional sporting lives… years when they’ve been at the top of their game, faced with those moments where everything happened in perfect timing. Scenarios that would be impossible to recreate again, no matter how hard they might try.
Maybe that’s why this Christmas feels as unique as the intricate patterns of an ice crystal—an entirely unique set of circumstances we’d never be able to recreate again.
I don’t want to think like that, but it’s the truth.
Why would they want more than these few days of no-strings-attached fun?
A voice in my head tells me I have to let it go. I have to enjoy this for what it is. They’re showing me a new future, a new possibility for finding someone who will appreciate me in a way I’ve never experienced before. Not beforethem.
I’ve struggled to find anyone, let alone someone who I couldexplorewith—late-night texts and feeling like I was surviving on scant crumbs of affection, just to feel appreciated. Guys I’ve methaven’t exactly wanted more than just a casual hook-up. Maybe I’m stupid for saying yes to the ones who seemed tolerable. It was easy to shove it all aside, to swallow my self-loathing, and pretend that any scrap of attention would do.
I love the idea of being taken care of, but I’ve also always had the hidden secret dream of wanting to know what it felt like to take care of someone else’s needs, too. To feel as if I’m not just getting them off physically, but giving them something deeper.
My minor detour to over-analyzing my bullshit is interrupted when Henri reappears.
As he strolls toward the couch, the world’s most wicked look glows in his eyes.
“Our girl has been hiding a very big secret.” Holding my phone in one hand, he keeps the other hidden behind his back.
My stomach flips. Did he see something on my phone? Was there some sort of message there, revealing the truth of what happened with Dale?
He clicks his tongue. “Are you hiding other secrets stashed in the trunk of your car?”
“I—I don’t—” Words evade me.
Confusion races through my limbs, before my entire body flushes as he reveals what has been concealed in his other hand.
“Well, aren’t you Little Miss Prepared for pegging?”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“How did you find that?” Mia’s pouty mouth does a poor job of hiding just how mortified she is. I feel it the moment her limbs go stiff, as if she’s readying herself to run.
“It leaped out at me. I’m surprised it doesn’t have fangs and a snapping jaw.” Henri pretends to clutch his pearls like a grandmother in church. “Monstrueuxindeed.”
Mia’s expression is incredulous. “I tookthatout of my handbag. I’m sure I didn’t forget and leave it in there.”
The way his lips quirk is a dead giveaway.
She gasps and extracts herself from my hold. With a lunge forward, she pokes him in the ribs. “Were you snooping in my luggage? You were, weren’t you?”
“Stella was curious.” His eyes glitter.
“Sure she was.” I drawl, followed by a click of my tongue. But the sight of what he’s holding leaves my blood running hot.
Henri is entirely unremorseful. Of course he is. “You didn’t tell us you were already armed for the occasion when we talked last night.”
Our girl looks as though she’d quite like the cushions, the ground, this very mountain itself to swallow her up. “I promise I didn’t plan on packing a mobile sex shop in my luggage… my friends… it’s their fault.” She tries to swipe the giant dildo from his grasp, but his reach is too long and outmatches her easily. “They thought—” She huffs and climbs on the couch. “They thought—come back here—stop—unffhhh—thought it would be funny to gift me a whole box full of toys this year—give methattt—because my sex life isumphffffnon-existent.” As she tries to wrestle him, Henri simply wraps her up in one arm, squashing her against his side.
